wonder woman (I aint)

with my newly (refound) sense of ability and worth (I was lazy. real lazy.) I've come to (re)realize a few things.

one.

the more I put on my plate....the more capable I become. it seems my only limitation in terms of the sheer sprawl of committment is the number of hours in the day.

and I'm good on six hours sleep.

b.

starting...is the most difficult aspect of any project. just getting my ass in gear. committing. deciding its worth doing...

all the hardest part. I adapt (prepare for assimilation) quickly and work new tasks into my routine pretty easily.

I only stress over them when I'm hormonal.

so all in all...I'm normal 25/30 days.


number eleventy.

my capabilities end JUST shy of making homemade guacamole. I killed two avocados last night. murdered.

it was as if the aperature of hell opened wide and spewed forth a vile green slime into my kitchen...

and I ate it....or at least tried to.

the memory of that taste haunts me. it was like death...in a food processor. it was two bunnies killed at the moment of bunny love climax, then stir fried in horse liver, garnished with pig spleen and topped off with olives (I hate olives something fierce).

to make matters worse: my kitchen exploded in the process. the blender. the food processor. two cutting boards. every knife I own (that's 3, btw). the counters. defleshed pulp everywhere. slices of skin.

horrid.

it gets worse still. I sent oqui on a grocery store run for tortillas to eat my guacamole with....

two bags of chips+no guacamole=rubbing it in my face.

fuck this vegetable shit.

tonight...

I'm making cookies.