The Cortisol Connection

The Cortisol Connection.

Why is it so fucking difficult for Drs to understand the Endocrine System?

They seem to have a handle on the skeleto-muscualr system and the digestive system.

These people are Medical Professionals with at least 4 years of University education.  

The caring profession.  

Folk that signed up to take care of their fellow people.  

Members of an elite, who swore an oath to uphold certain standards of healing. 

It doesn't go unnoticed that college students studying a simple Anatomy & Physiology class learn Endocrinology on a daily basis and appear to have a firm grasp of the concept that, if one of your hormones is doing a funky dance, out of whack, or playing hooky, the rest will certainly follow suit.

Hell, the general public is well aware of roid rage.  Wrestlers and body builders the world over get it. Remember that skinny kid in your class at school that bulked up to look like a lumpy pillow and went off the rails?  You see, even you can tell when a persons endocrine system is freaking out.    

And we all have that one Auntie with a fat belly, skinny legs and a beard, right?

So why in the name of Chris Benoit can Drs not put insulin and cortisol together and make Cushings Disease?

What is so difficult about measuring some thyroid hormones, finding them too low and treating the patient with a similar animal hormone, instead of giving them some chemically produced synthetic pill from a pharmaceutical company, that only contains a part of what needs replacing?   They readily treat diabetes with pig Insulin.... 

Why, if a lady is exhibiting signs and symptoms of Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome, and has a five o’clock shadow more impressive than Sidney Crosbys Stanley Cup Final play off beard, and pustules the size of skittles, can we not then diagnose their PCOS and give this lady the care, attention and treatment they need, instead of telling her she is fat, lazy and needs to shave?

Why does the size of a persons dorsocervical fat pad (yes it has a real name, it's not just a hump) need to be out of range of sight and just how many 100's of lbs does one need to gain (without changing their routine or diet, while going inexplicably bald, and becoming emotionally unstable) before a Dr, who you are paying for out of your taxes, will allow you to piss in a plastic bottle to let someone else dip a testing strip in it, so as to test for Cushings disease? 

Is all of this happening because pharmaceutical companies don’t pay Drs to do test for these illnesses?

It sure as hell seems that way.

Or maybe it's because Fibromyalgia, which has no specific cause, and no scientific explanation, is so much easier to diagnose and can be treated with a cocktail of drugs, offered to Drs, with a nice little pay off, by the pharmaceutical companies?

Very likely.

Indeed, it takes an average of five years worth of wrong diagnosis, for the average person to get a correct diagnosis in regard to an endocrine illness, other than diabetes.  Test after test, after repeat test.  You'll likely get a bunch of false positives too.  For certain you will get prescriptions of this pain medication, that anti-depressant and the other sleeping pill along the way, doled out readily and steadily.  

And along the way you are certain to get at least one diagnosis of depression, but you will not need to visit to a mental health Dr. You will constantly be told you are fat and lazy, but won't need to see a dietitian.  And you'll get at least two fibromyalgia diagnosis requiring absolutely no physical, no urine testing and no blood work....   

I'm special.  I have fibromyalgia three times!

Maybe someone with a PHD can explain it better, and give me another prescription for some medication I don’t need while they do so, because from where I am sitting It just makes absolutely no fucking sense.

Or maybe I’m just depressed, with fibromyalgia and a side of brain fog......

Karen Graham HNC  June 4 2014

The school run

Since we moved house, I have been driving my daughter to school and back daily.  Every morning I use the word cunt at least five times on said run.

I really need to have her video the mornings fiascos, because honestly it boggles the mind.

Today was a PRIME example of how not to drive, and asking; "HOW THE FUCK, did you get a license?"

On one section of the road we use, (and what I'm describing here is a four minute drive total.  No more, no less) there is an access road leading from to some seniors apartments.  Access for them only, and they can only drive in one lane.   It's used by others as a shortcut, but they can just as easily go the other way.  It adds a whole 30 seconds to their journey.
Of course, this morning there were three builders trucks parked on this road, so I had a total of three half asleep, not ever awake seniors drive right towards me, in my lane.  You can bet your arse I'm cunting now,  loud and fast.

So I continue to drive and I get to the intersection of the roundabout (traffic circle) where I stop to  give way to teens crossing for school.  Then I have Mrs Fucking Stupid Cunt stop, on the circle, with three vehicles behind her, to let me out.  I wave her on seething, only to see her pull up right away to let her kid out in the middle of the road.  He gets out, dithers for a second an then scrambles back in.  They drive off and go into the school parking lot, where there is a DROP OFF zone.   While this is occurring another woman has pulled over at the side of the circle, to dump her teen off.
This is all taking place on a legal roadway, and it happens EVERY day.

I'm at a loss.  There are traffic cops (RCMP) around here every afternoon, but never a one in the am. Likely because they are all at Tim Hortons, chowing and gassing! (Eating and Drinking)

About a month ago, I followed one of the aforementioned seniors.  She actually stopped on a through road to let out a guy waiting at an intersection  (T junction).  I almost hit her up the ass, but I managed to avoid doing so, even though I was having a WHAT THE FUCK?? moment.  Then again at the roundabout, she stopped mid way around in the flow of traffic, to let a person waiting to go around, get into the flow.  He declined her kind offer, with his mouth wide open, shaking his head!

Now I know, they are a little confusing, but once you are in the circle, you have the right of way.
Similarly, if someone is waiting at an intersection to get out, and you are on a road with no markings, other than to separate either side, you need to keep fucking going.
Generally, this stops the vehicle behind you ramming up your tail end!

I swear my blood pressure is high every time I get home after the school run in the morning.

I need a beer!!

KG Headbangerwoman 2015 Jan 14

Tips for driving in icy conditions

How I am laughing right now.


I just went to www.theweathernetwork.com to see if we in the Great White North are getting a warm up.  It seems we are, but that is not why I am pissing in my large lady knickers.
Noo, the reason I'm deliriously dribbling, is a link for tips on driving in icy conditions.

Is it really necessary?  Really?  Come on, if you can't drive in icy conditions, especially in Canada or the Mid-West, you should get the fuck out of your car and walk.

Here is what you need to know about driving in icy conditions.

1: If it's dark, put your fucking lights on
2: Slow the fuck down
3: Stop fucking texting
3.5: Slow down more than you just did
4: Don't attempt to stop two feet away from a red light.  It's not going to fucking happen

In all honesty, I'd just advise you to sit the fuck down on the couch, eat pizza and drink a beer.

OK, you have a very, very small chance of choking to death, or suffering a nasty case of alcohol poisoning, but you are cutting out the possibility of getting T-boned by all the other cunts that don't know how to drive in icy conditions!

Stay Safe. Stay Home!

Headbangerwoman KG 2015 Jan 12

How Cleo almost killed the Christmas spirit!!

Another vaguely mentioned story in my 2014 Year of The Cunt post, was the one about the Senior lady with a hand full of items, who was behind me in my line at a checkout.

I'd been standing at the checkout for a while.  It was probably six days prior to Christmas Day, and the grocery store wasn't ridiculously busy, but it was steady.

Actually, this is a story of two women because I'd just started to unpack my fairly full cart, when a busy body looking woman, all short and glasses, almost knocked me sideways in her urgency to get through the line.  "I'm just waiting for someone" she informs me.  I look up as I continue to unpack... "and my friend will be a while, but that line is shorter", she indicated to the next line, where there were two people already lined up behind the person being served. "Why don't you go there and I'll just take your spot?"  Really fucktard? I know that I may not always be the sharpest tool in the box, but really?  "I'm good,"  I assured her, as she bumbled off muttering under her breath.

Not even a minuted had lapsed, and up came lady number two.  She stood quietly behind me, but as I glanced at her, I noticed she had only five or so things in her hands.  "You should go first," I said.

Obviously, she moved by me at the speed of light!

I felt all warm and tingly.... for a whole half a minute.  Then I look up again, and there it is;  a mini meltdown is being had by the lady I just let through.  The checkout lady, who serves me frequently, looked up apologetically, and then turned back to the wrath of the snarky senior.  "How could this be happening?," I asked myself, "I just let this lady go before me, and here she is holding me, and now the couple behind me up!"  I start polite banter with the couple behind.  We are all slightly disgruntled, but become more and more amused, as we realized that this woman is arguing the price of a bag of chipits!  Yes, she is disputing approximately two dollars, on one bag of chocolate chips.  Now I could understand this, if she appeared homeless, or less affluent.  But this particularly tight bitch is dripping in gold and fur, and iis wearing more make-up than the corpse of Cleopatra.
I heard the checkout lady ask her again and again, "what aisle were they in?"  as the reply came "they were over there," as Cleo waves her hand randomly in the direction of, well the entire store!
This continued for a good five minutes, back and forth, and eventually the poor employee headed off in the direction of the bakery aisle.
She came back quite quickly, and did actually reduce the price, but all in vain.  Now Cleo wanted the bag for free.  She was checked out, and in a flurry and a hurry, headed off to Customer Service where she was going "to demand I get them for free because of all the inconvenience."
What a shame that had to happen, because I will never let someone cut in again.  I don't care if they have one item with the price tag set in stone, in three feet high numbers!  I was here first, and you can wait in line, just like I did!

This has to be one reason why the youth of today do not respect their elders.  Because the elders are disrespectful assholes.
How do you teach something that is long forgotten, and never practised?
That woman glanced at me once during the whole fiasco, and gave me a pained smirk.  But she knew precisely what she was going to do, and whether in front or behind me, would have been every bit as frightful, annoying, rude and goddamn disrespectful.

2014 sure was The year of The Cunt!

Happy New Year!

Headbangerwoman  KG Jan 10 2015
  

Overflow. Oversight?

In August 2014, we bought a new/old house.  New to us, older than our last house.
We love it.  The size, the layout, and the location.  The beautiful yard, and the abundance of birds.

But it seems we were duped by the seller somewhat, as I mentioned in my last post.  We expected to do a few upgrades, we could see what they were, and we had the budget.  However, some things were not as visible!  Which is not what the seller attested to at the sale! NO latent defects, he stated!

My neighbour filled me in on details of the people we purchased from a few months after we took posession, but we felt the full force of their sheer cuntness on the last day of November, 2014!  

After a fab day shopping and doing the family thing, we returned home, exhausted.  No sooner than she had retreated to her basement, did my daughter come running up the stairs, yelling and screaming "there's water pouring in through the fucking light fitting!"

Yes she was swearing, as was I when I saw the fucking mess.  Literally, there was water pissing in throught the light fitting in the ceiling, and it wasn't long before it was pissing in through another light fitting, all over the ceiling, down the wall, under the drywall, and under, and over the carpet.
This was first discovered at 8.45pm.  By 11pm the entire 1200 square feet of the basement was affected somehow..
After a few frantic calls, and what seemed like a decade, a clean up crew arrived at midnight.. and didn't leave until 5am!  The same crew, plus a few more were back at 8.30am!  They ripped the whole place apart, sucked up the massive puddle that was the floor, boxed up our belongings, and cleaned up as best they could.

My plumber popped by and fixed the burst pipe the next day, so we were waterless overnight.
But he put her to bed for $500, and in just under two hours.

The follow up included industrial fans a-blaring for an entire week, 24/7, and dehumidifyers sucking the water from my fish bowls, as they did their best to suck the water from my walls and floor!
Carpet was ripped up, drywall was cut out and tossed.  Belongings that were only unpacked weeks before due to our move, were packed back up and shipped out.

My childs bedroom was unusable, so she had to sleep on a lumpy sofa bed upstairs for two weeks. While she was re homed, the weight of the boxes that had been stored in her closet, caused the shelf and hanging rail to rip out of the wall and break her closet doors.
Now she is back in her room, but still surrounded by boxes, until that hiccup is fixed!

A total fucking fiasco of complete strangers in and out daily, checking this and measuring that.
Of course, we had just booked a little Christmas break a few days before shit hit and fans fanned, and we had also booked a kitchen installation, which now won't happen until February, because I don't have a place to store the cabinetry until the contractor is available!

And you know why all this happened?  This all happened because Mr Jim'll Fix It (his name really is Jim),  the incompetent fat cunt who sold us the house, couldn't be bothered to insulate the outside tap, and put a grill in the ceiling for winter shut off access.  He just couldn't spare the extra pennies (literally less than $50), and 15 minutes of his time, to make sure the house was protected from frost.
He managed his cigarette habit with ease, mind you.

What adds oomph is that while the rebuild has been going on, we have discovered that Mr Fat Incompetent Cunt had left live electrical wires hanging in the ceiling space, right near water pipes, he had exhausted a bathroom fan into a closet, he didn't cut a hole in the siding when he re did it, for the central vac to get air, and he failed to hook up the furnace to the outside.  Preferring the ceiling cavity!!

I could have paid for 20 inspectors prior to my home purchase and not a thing would have shown up.

Of course, this is the same cock that installed an electrical socket, and then put a toilet (at an noticable angle) directly in front of it, so it's totally unusable.  So none of this should surprise me really.  But what it does, is make me doubt humanity just that little bit more.  It makes me realize that you go out of your way for others, and often they will fuck you sideways in the ass, wiggle a little, and then smile about it!!

Well cunt, not this time.  Your ass fucking days are over.
Karma drives a Toyota Tacoma, watches Botched, and listens to Slayer!

I have a great insurance company, that have supplied me with fabulous contractors, and we will shortly be back to normal below grade.
 But it has been one hell of a disrupted winter, and with some -40c temperatures, a tad chilly here and there!

Karen G, Headbangerwoman Jan 9 2015

2014. Year of the Cunt.

Technically, the Case Manager at my insurance company was a cunt in 2013, because that was when she told me that my insurance would stop.  But it didn't cease until 2014, so I carried her bitch ass over.

Celtic Management were cunts from 2010-2014, so that counts.  They were consistent cunts too, which is always a plus.

There was the older lady in the grocery store, just before Christmas.  She only had a few items, compared to my cart full, so I let her go in front of me.  Unfortunately, she was a cunt.  She spent ten minutes arguing the price of a bag of chipits, followed by more time trying to explain to the exasperated checkout assistant where they were in the store.  Then she spent more time trying to get a price reduction.  She headed off to customer service to attempt to get them free after all that.
This woman was dripping in jewelry, make-up and fur!

TD Mortgages were cunts for offering me a mortgage at 3% higher than the company I eventually went with.  Also, the mortgage advisor at TD is a cunt in her own right, because she opened a file for me, and was then MIA for two months, leaving no access to my file!

Yet another one of my family almost topped the list for cunt of the year in 2014. You never really know someone, seemingly.  Oh well, you live and learn!
However this person was topped by a big fat cunt, we'll get to him!

A person that I thought was family, not just a friend, got her ass on my cunt list in August.  Narcissism and addiction caused her to blow her entire life out of proportion.  She blocked me on Facebook.  Yes, you know it's bad if Facebook blocks you!!  There has been no other contact since that.
I haven't missed her either, so it just goes to show!  Cunt.

Riteway Movers, Edmonton.  CUNTS, the lot of them.  Not only did they grossly misquote me.  They then wanted me to move a bunch of my own items, that they couldn't fit in the truck.
Then they threw the entire contents of my china cabinet into a box, without wrapping a single item!
They packed paint spray in boxes clearly marked NO SPRAY paint, which then exploded all over my freshly decorated basement, and my designer sandals from Spain.  They moved boxes which I had marked garbage, and brought them along for the ride!
They also gouged holes in the walls of the house we were selling, with furniture that they couldn't be bothered to dis-assemble, and continued that trend into my new house.  Coming to me later and telling me that "those marks were already there."

Of course you get the daily driving cunts, cunts in grocery stores, customer service cunts, and the like.  But there has ultimately got to be a winner!


CUNT (or cunts) of the year goes jointly to one Jim Klein and his wife Angela.  They sold me a house that seemingly had more holes than a tea strainer.  Holes in gas lines, flooring, siding, sinks, and did I mention the fucking hole in the water pipe that burst on 30 November, causing my entire basement to flood?  All hidden or concealed.
Of course Jimmy boy had also failed to put an access hatch, insulation, or a stop tap anywhere close to the pipe when he reno'ed, so he did us a real favour.
I have to mention the electrical outlet that he put behind a toilet cistern in the family bathroom, just because it really is a WTF moment every time I shit!

No sooner had we unpacked after our move in August, than we were packing shit up again!
If anyone who knows this cunt sees him, they should tell him to redirect his fucking mail too.
 He hasn't done that yet, and he moved out in July 2014!  What a cunt!

Headbangerwoman Jan 7 2015

Table for Ten?

So, it had been a long day, in fact a long few days.

My Husband had taken us off to Las Vegas for our Christmas gift 2014, and for the last evening he thought he would like to visit the Wolfgang Puck restaurant, at The Venetian/Palazzo.
Of course his hearing is a little off, so I get to make the call, cough and all!

I call reception and ask "Could I book a table for two at the Wolfgang Puck restaurant please?"
The answer came politely, "Which one Mrs Graham?"

Hmm, is she joshing me?  "The one by the shops," I say.  I'm presuming she knows where I mean.  She does work here after all!
"Well, there is more than one Wolfgang Puck establishment," she informs me.
"Oh, ok, I didn't realize," I answer, feeling like a tiny bit of a tit by now.

"Is it Table 10?" she requests! I pause, "No, like I said, it's a table for two!"
I can almost hear the stifled guffaw, as she tells me, "No, Table 10 is the name of the establishment."

By now, my husband is rolling around on the couch reciting Monty Python sketches, and suggesting I just wrote another one!

"...you know' I think I'll leave it for now," I say politely, as I hang up the phone, flustered and perspiring like a Grand national Filly.

Thank God for Gordon Ramsays Steak, and his Lobster Wellington!

Next time, Wolfgang. Next time!

KG Headbangerwoman Jan 7 2015

Fucking Facebook Whingers

Join a Fucking Forum, Facebook Whingers

I am hoping that this is the last time I write about this.  

Yes;  I know all about freedom of speech.  I know we are all entitled to our opinion.  I know that you sometimes feel sick.

But really?  You need to take to Facebook and repetitively reveal that you are sneezing.  You have a cold.  Your stomach hates you, or that you have a fucking paper cut?  

 In the past two years, two very good friends of mine, both of whom had Facebook accounts, died. They had cancer, and very rarely, if ever, did they whine, whinge, moan and complain about it on social media.

They knew what it meant to live.  To enjoy life.  To have fun.

 Recently I deleted a bunch of people from my Facebook friends list.  I didn't care to see how much weight they had lost.  I don't give a shit that they are supporting Kleenex single handedly, and I really don't care if you have got a fucking itchy rash on your arse crack.

 I live away from my family.  My choice.  But Facebook is my main means of keeping in touch.  If you are my friend on Facebook then I like you.  We are friends.  However, if you are constantly moaning griping and being a self effacing cunt, and it shows up on my Facebook feed you will be deleted.  

 I will call you out on it first though.  YUP. Name and shame.

 Here's why;

 I am chronically ill.  For the past three years I have been in chronic pain.  I am chronically fatigued, I have gained weight, my hair has fallen out and my skin and nails are flaky.  I can't breath and I have a lot of infections.

I have developed chronic allergic asthma and was diagnosed hypothyroid from Hashimotos, also with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Lupus.  My social life has been awful and I spend a lot of time resting and sleeping.  I take a bucket load of medications and I visit many Drs.  

However, I don't require constant attention, negative or positive from people.  Therefore I don't discuss my personal health issues on Facebook.  Neither do my friends with similar ailments and conditions.  OK, we all have an outburst now and again, but I have had one (ex) friend complain about a different ailment every day for four consecutive days.  Even though she was away on a trip with her husband, at the time.  

Another moaned relentlessly about her health, family and work.  I mean relentlessly.  Day in day out. Woe is me.  

Well I've had e fucking nough.  I'm done, I won't tolerate it any more.  The day has come.  Each time I see a whinger, and to be honest I think I've fucked most of them off, they will be deleted.  

Not unfollowed.  NOPE SIREE, just plain old deleted.  I don't need the negativity.  I try to stay positive, it makes me feel better.  

So, bear that in mind you griping pieces of shit.  I've come to the end of my rope.  

Feel better.  You pathetic twats.

KG Headbangerwoman 2014

Faking It

Do fake accents bother you?  

This was the question posed by Lochlin Cross, drive-time announcer on 100.3 The Bear yesterday, for his locker room discussion.  
As Cross and I had been discussing this back and forth on Twitter and Facebook prior to the FB posed question, in good humour I might add, because the fake Irish and Scottish accents had been driving me crazy, advertising on the radio all day.  I was mildly amused when another Bear listener posted that she liked to do a "British or Cockney accent." 

I then posted

"LMAO. 

Britain is a collection of Countries. Wales, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, and England. 

Britain as a whole has no accent. 

Cockney is a regional dialect from a part of London, specifically. 

Like Cornish, Geordie or Glaswegian. (Google them)

Each County has several dialects. A county is a region in England. There are many. 

Also, it's Paddy. Not Patty. Patty is a slab of beef on a bun. Or a bap, depending on 

your region!

Paddy is an Irish fella."

My cell phone was on the fritz and the Northern part of Northern Ireland disappeared!  But to the poster who chose to point out that Ireland (The Republic of and Northern, were in fact a seperate island than the rest of Britain and Southern Ireland is not a part of it) thanks, my Dad was from Ireland and I did well in Geography class at school...in England! 

I personally don't think that there is anything particularly offensive about my post.  OK, I laughed at the beginning, but as I already explained, I was having an amusing back and forth with the host prior. Also, I had to make it fairly simple as I'm quite sure no-one gets it unless they actually live there! 

Just how simple is up for discussion.  I'm not sure the hurlers of muck, shit and compost were quite ready for their lesson! 

However ready, poster Roxy FluffyBomb and her posse of abusive girlfriends seemed to think it was OK, to come at me.  So, now I'm an asshat and three people agree.  What the fuck is an asshat anyway? When have you ever seen a person with a hat actually on their ass?  Do you know what an actually prick you sound, when you try to insult someone with a non expletive? 
Then I'm a bitch.  On top of which, I'm a whiny crybaby.  Well I've never been called a bitch before.  Really, that is the best you can muster?  The University of Alberta must be so proud of you Jo Ziggy! By the way, less people agree that I'm a bitch. You might want to call them out on it!

Now as a person who writes as a hobby, I decided to look into the people that were hurling abuse.  You cannot imagine what I found?

A beautiful native lady, with a great talent for art, and a student (or employee) at the University of Alberta.  Someone with a fairly high degree of education!

WOW. I was taken aback.  Make your own judgements there.  I have no words.

However, I am going to say is this;  Firstly, I have never seen people, trolls or otherwise, jump on a person so quickly for merely pointing out some facts that they were unaware of.  By the way, giving them an option to correct the fact that they they can speak British or Cockney and therefore  making themselves look less like a total twat. 

Was it Forrest Gump that said "A twat is as a twat does"?  No, my bad, that was me, just now.

Secondly where is the respect people?  Just where?  Surely live debate in it's purest form is a way to learn and indeed educate those around you. If the first thing you say to someone is "You are an asshat", it bodes not well for the rest of your day, or life.

I named you in this article because you are two of the most disrespectful and ignorant people I ever had the displeasure of coming across.  There have been a few more.  
As I pointed out at the time of the discussion, my daughter is a friend of mine on Facebook.  How am I supposed to teach her respect when disrespecting dick heads like you two are on the internet being abusive to people you don't know, have never met, and would likely learn a lot from if you were to ever meet?  I'm guessing that both of you think online bullying is OK and I should give free reign to my daughter, to just randomly be abusive to people online, because they said something she didn't like, or agree with?

I'm not playing victim here.  I'm older and wiser than that.  I take the high road, while you two pathetic excuses for human beings wallow in the shit you dug up for yourselves.  I only hope that you are savvy enough, (yet I highly doubt that) to realize that your disgusting behaviour is out there for all to see and it comes back and bites you hard on the arse.
 That's a British word.  

If, like some posters to the discussion thread later on, you had pointed out that you felt I was wrong, or even arrogant, I would have probably apologized.  I'm decent like that.  

But that train has left the station and is on the return journey. 

Shut your North and South, you don't have to have a Bull and Cow about trivial shit, so stick it up your Khyber Pass!



This angry blog was written especially for my friend Rudi, who has a South African accent, but not an African accent on the whole.  He may have a touch of an Australian accent in there too!

I wrote this in a mix of a Lincolnshire accent, which is a region/County of England and has many dialects and Albertan, Canadian, EH!

KG 11 March 2014

  

Facebook, moaning fuck!

If you are indeed my friend on Facebook, I probably like you.  Or at least I used to like you.  But I like you less with every passing day.  You make me squirm, you cause me to clench my knuckles, my teeth, jesus I'm even butt clenching.  I wanted to pass the time, have a chit chat, do some small talking.  What do I get instead?  A moaning, whiny fucker.  Someone who just sneezed, had to blow their nose.  A person who requires that they report every sodding banal, inane lb. of their latest attempt at weight loss.  A person who apparently has never seen rain, wind or fucking snow before.  You are a person who is so ridiculously co-dependent on your boy/girl friend you need to post bitstrip after bitstrip about it.
Are you really such an attention whore that you must report every single snot laced second of your recent cold?  Must I really look at your carbohydrate starved, calorie controlled plate of tomatoes.  If you insist upon producing another "couples in love" picture, can you first give a thought to the people who are alone, have lost a loved one, or are just plain sick of your grinning faces.
You live for the comments that follow your latest post about your pain, suffering and inconvenienced life.
These people don't see the real you. Just a persona.
I'm here to correspond, communicate, laugh and learn. Not to carry the burden of your failed whimsicle dietry habits and failure to retain a lasting relationship with another person.
I really don't give a flying fuck about your seasonal ailment, or the fact that you have stomach pain and indigestion.
The weather changes daily, here there and everywhere and if I need to see a forecast; there's an app for that.
Please, pause before you post. You are invading my space, messing with my mood.
If you fuck with my day again I'm deleting your gripy ass.
This blog was brought to you by chronic pain and nasal congestion.

KG 2014