Reloj...

No marques las horas!!!!!! *damnyoubastard!(shot)*

Ahem, I'm still alive. No, I'm not talking about the move, I believe everyone has a general idea of how much of a pain in the ass it is to move, I refuse to dwell in that, I'm sick enough as is. I'll just say, we're almost done I'm sore in places I didn't think I could be sore at and I have bruises/cuts that I dunno how I got. I'm clumsy, meh.

Since I'm sitting on the floor, don't expect a long-winded bitchfest. I know, a relief for y'all, and yes, it's bee a trend these last few entries. Bite me will ya?

*cough* No, I'm not talking to the readers, but to that voice in my head I often talk to. You guys are cool. *If mostly inexistent*

Anyway, on to what I'm here for.

I believe I can now say I understand what some women mean by their clock "ticking". Now, let me tell you what, I thought it was all bullshit, and a load of socially-imposed shit that we were given, but after spending a good five minutes looking at baby stuff while shopping for groceries, sighing like an idiot and secretly, *FUCKING SECRETLY DAMMIT!!!* fantasizing about having a child, I can safely say, that BS, it's REAL.

I have bought stuff for my boss' baby, secretly wishing It were for my own baby. Hell, the gods know, I'm usually the kind of person that would simply get the woman a giftcard and her best regards, but NOOOOOOOOOoooo, I go and LOOK at this stuff, and I BUY it, for this child I will probbly see just once in my life, all because in the deepest, most ridiculously pink corners of my mind, I wish I was the one having a child. Go ahead, laugh all you want, I'll go beat myself senseless with some common sense *because I love irony THAT much*

SO yeah, curse the clock, hate it 'till you can hate no more.

Irony topper, Chances are, I'll hit the jackpot before I can have a kid.

Don't you just LOVE it?