Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers
cydniey

If I follow my genes and ever have to have my left breast removed . . . . .

I now own both complete seasons of "Black Sails". It's a Starz Original, I think. It's about pirates. Almost reluctant pirates. About them that were pirates, that want to just be left alone to live their lives, free of British intervention. It isn't hard to relate. There's a girl on it. A gurl/boi/gurl. She wears the customary skirts, but still seems boyish, mannish. And I love her hat. I have to find out her character's name. She's one of the few of the female cast members who isn't a whore. Not that that is a bad thing. The whores are varied and entertaining and one in particular is brilliant. But there's a lot of them. Oh, I can't wait to watch it.

My internet is out, which is always nice. We're giving in and getting a new modem. Taking this one out and shooting it. Maybe I will take a hammer to it while Doc films it. If I can get Doc to film it. He's still . . . Ood. Quiet, brooding, cryptic. He's just not holding his brain in his hand like a proper Ood.

Why does SNL consistently force their actors of color to play such negatively stereotypical roles, and why do the actors do it? All the time, I am embarrassed for these people. We get the middle class white trope every so often, but for every "woke" skit we get about People of Color, it seems we get three weeks of stereo types of the worst sort playing out by comedians clinging to their one big chance. It's fucking sick.

*Steps down off soap box*

A group of trick or treaters brought me a dog tonight. I handed it off to Ritchie. He can get it scanned for a microchip tomorrow morning first thing, and house the dog until the owner is found. Cool. Because Chewy and the cats were REALLY pissed off having a small white fluff ball in the back yard.

I got my boots today! So I got dressed. Tights, Big tshirt, arm-warmers, boots, boxer briefs, all black. Doc thought I was dressed up for Halloween and some vague member of some random superhero group. Nope, I told him, I was just dressed. He stopped talking to me after that.

I'm not quite why my clothing choices are distressing him so much. He's never really cared. Well, he's spoken up about the trashy t-shirts, and did tell me I looked too goth when I got dressed to go to my dead sister's memorial tree. But those have really been the only times. Now it seems to be a symptom of something bigger. What does he care? No one sees me, anyway. Blech.

I'm going to be thinking seriously about giving up all but two cups of coffee a day. I got my pirate shirt today and it looks like a maternity shirt on me. This has got to stop. My 36's are too tight. Nope. Not going back to 38. And it's the coffee and all of the sugar I put in it. I have to stop. It's pretty simple. I take a medication that speeds up my metabolism and squishes my appetite, so I know that this whole belly/muffin top thing is the coffee/sugar/milk all day shit. Time to let it go. I don't need this particular addiction. I will give up regular coffee and get a french press and switch to home ground espresso. Two shots a day. Period. Then water water water. Some electrolyte juice, but it has sugar in it, so not too much. I should have this weight off by January, februrary at the latest. I can have doc get me one of those step up thingies and do that while I listen to music and pretend I'm dancing.

And if Doc is right, over the spring, I will get my front teeth replaced before any other work is done on my mouth. So by summer, I will be thin and have a decent smile and be ready for my public debut. When, where, why, how, or what, I have no idea, but I will be ready.

I want to get a tattoo of "Starry Night" somewhere on my body. My back (epic), my shoulder (subtle), as a sleeve (coverage), etc.

If I follow my genes and ever have to have my left breast removed, I'm having VanGough's Self-Portrait tattooed where my breast was, over my heart.
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