i am beginning to think there is something seriously wrong with me. besides all the obvious. i have more on my plate right now than a bulemic cheerleader at a chinese buffet. it feels almost surreal that im not in the fetal position in some dark corner, shivering and cursing at my own shadow. the kids, the surgeries, the money (or lack thereof), the ex-husband, the boyfriend. the sheer volume of it all has my brain so fried that i could be a spokesman for DARE. but... theres always a but. somehow theres always room for the relentless, drilling thoughts of SEX. kinda like how theres always room for jello. egads... bill cosby and sex is NOT the mental picture i was hoping for. moving on. so as i was saying, i have this huge horseshit pile of mess that my life has been consumed with, and all i can think of is getting my rocks off. cute eh. and not just like oh-i-miss-the-soft-touch-of-a-gentleman bullshit either. i mean fur-flying, children-scaring, trapeze-swinging, offensively-dirty, good-old-fashioned fucking. usually i wouldnt complain, cause lets face it... who doesnt like to think about getting a piece. but literally i cant function. eating breakfast, excited. folding laundry, excited. history channel, excited. its terrible, my brain has been replaced by a raging hard-on. granted, i have a laundry list of narcotics in me and for all i know they perscribed me some viagra as well. whatever it is though, holy hell... virgins beware.

so this must be what it feels like to be a man, but without all the stoopid.