Because Sometimes What a Girl Needs is a Trampoline and a Well Heated Room so She can Bounce and Shriek Orgy-Porgy! Orgy-Porgy! Orgy Ever Lovin Porgy!!!

Perhaps nekkid while she's at it.

Now that my molehill of irration has morphed into a belching, oozing volcano, perhaps I ought to give an explanation and perhaps that will help assuage it.

I need a change, have needed a change. The change presented itself at a Christmas party form of a charming homo who wanted to recruit me for a job. I consented, I was excited, have been through rounds of interviews, have resisted letting hopes get too high for fear of getting dashed, while remaining optimistic. This is evidently a toxic combination of emotions. For when I arrive here at the Massive Bank my skin starts to crawl and I become Emma, wearer of cranky-pants and complete bitch on wheels. And it doesn't go away, and I fight it, try to keep it at bay, but if I were my boss, I would fire my ass for my wretched attitude, and I feel guilty about it.

It's the waiting, of course it's the waiting that is unbearable.

So I am going to toddle down to the Ferry Building with two of my favorite fairies for a good stiff drink, or two, no more than three.

If I have any more than that I will probably end up making a drunken post, and I know how much I regret that in the morning.