Ungapatch

The title of this post describes things I see today; an onomatopeia for clutter, overkill, too much...thoughts, paper, books, junk, crap, tchotkes I have to keep forever and dust, too expensive to "lose", too ugly to use.

I am on CD3 and have gone through a wilder than normal hormonal rollercoaster the last 4-5 days. I am now soothing myself with a bottle of wine, a large jar of nutella, and a spoon. Hopefully I can find more chocolate in this house somewhere soon or I'll be dipping into the vodka.

I tried to be restrained and be all "lovely mummy" to my kids on Sunday, but I think I let loose with at least one or two highly irritated freaks. Me minus hormones is NOT a pretty sight. If they ever ban HRT, I'll be scoring it on the black market and shooting up in an alley.

(I've told you all about my friends and friends Moms who went off their HRT and out-of-nowhere decided to get divorced and then got fired and had fights with other friends, right? I must've....)

Sigh....

Plus I am getting slightly frustrated. I am finding it very difficult to tell the political behind the scenes stories I want without googlers discovering me, and ending up like this poor bugger.

Perfect example would be this story. If it were true. Which it is NOT.

Say there was a hypothetical woman you knew, and she got sent to a small but very important meeting with a bunch of judddges and police and lawyers and people from shelters and cryme victims by her good friend. Her good friend was in charge of the whole system in her prawvince and trusted that she would help him fix the system by telling him great ideas, things he could use during an upcoming elucktion. Except that at the conference everyone spontaneously self-divided into two groups; the ones who "got it" (GI) and had no power to fix anything, and the ones who were fuckin' clueless (FC) and were in charge.

And the FCs refused to listen to the GIs but instead spent the entire time defensively explaining why the system is "great" and "super awesome" and "you all should just call us day or night and we'll help you." And it really really went over badly with all the people who had called for help many times and been told that no one would help them. EVER. Even when they were in the hospital. Like one woman who called 126 times and was still in daneger that very day, who figured she was actually better off than the woman who only got to call 4 times because the 5th time she had a brokun jaw & finggers and couldn't speak or dial.

The hypothetical woman's important friend even showed up at the place to speak and all the FCs in the front row applauded as he announced awards for the GIs who were the most compliant, the "best" at cooperating with the FCs. All the GIs meanwhile were in the back row and they rolled their eyes because of course, what good does an award do for someone with a brokun jaw? Zip--- Which was awful for the woman who had spent hours of volunteer time thinking up helpful ideas for her very very kind friend with the great big heart and really really unhelpful paid staff.

Then the hypothetical woman was upset about the juddge who admitted over drinks that out of 20,000 acquattals that she knew only ONE was not guilllty, they rest were guilllty but the judddge had to let them off because of minor things like paperwork, not even biggies like constitootional rights. And when they got out, they hurt more people, and came right back to the judddge, who had no solution for the problem, and no interest in the ideas the GIs had.

Wasn't that an interesting story? Too bad for search engines my spelling is atrocious!

If you ever feel like hearing more hypothetical badly spelled stories, let me know, and use my techniques if you like. Or suggest some other solution before I eat ALL the chocolate.