
Wherein I have entered some kind of a writing fugue state and therefore have not left my house barely at all in a solid week. Send assistance.
Natalie Zed Promiscuous Wordsmith
Wherein I have entered some kind of a writing fugue state and therefore have not left my house barely at all in a solid week. Send assistance.
Holy hell, a week went by and I posted nothing. I’ve been keeping my head down and writing my ass off and being generally overwhelmed, which means I’m putting up a hell of a lot of links here in one fell swoop.
Wherein it has come to my attention that promoters dislike it when you mention their events were poorly run and badly organized, and venues dislike it when you point out that their toilets were overflowing with poop.
My partner has a long and storied relationship with professional wrestling; I have a long and storied relationship with finding professional wrestling stupid. It’s been a long time since he watched it religiously (he used to write about it fairly frequently too), but he drifted away once MMA cast the spell of being an actual… Read more »
So last night, my boyfriend affectionately referred to me as a “fireplug.” Another term for fire hydrant, it’s used to refer to a particular athletic body often found in wrestlers: short, stocky, stubby-limbed, but strong as hell and with a wicked low centre of gravity. I’m rather fond of the term.
Who knew that Abitibi- Témiscamingue has such a vibrant and varied emerging music scene?
When I experience stress, it manifests directly in my physical body. As someone with an anxiety disorder, I get the usual panic attacks and spiralling thoughts and sudden inexplicable aversions, but much more so than in my mind my stress appears on my body. Specifically, it shows up on my skin.
The weather is so terrible that it’s looked like the dead of night outside my windows since this morning and the thunder is stressing Harley out so bad she’s hiding in her crate chewing on her dog bed.
This update is, somewhat unusually, going to begin with a gastrointestinal update.
Blinking blearily at my computer screen, like a caver who hasn’t see natural light in two weeks, I start vaguely groping towards being a person on the internet again. Ever just not check your inbox for a week? Yeah.