Godammit, I’m Mad!

Those are the exact words I said aloud while laughing at my new blog a minute ago. It wasn’t an evil laugh, but a laugh of pure joy at my own cuntishness. An acquaintance once described me as “vulnerable, with an edge.” I was flattered at the time. Now it might be more accurate to say, “A cunt, with a heart.” How would that be on a gravestone?

Anyway, here is my Tribute Blog. It is dedicated to my very special fan, The Crazy Muffin Woman. I need to figure out how to remove my Sister Wolf photo without having to change my google profile thing. Who can help a Sister out?

The photo of Megan Fox as Mother Theresa is how I like to think of myself. It’s such a ravishing image, isn’t it? It’s the kindness that so reminds me of me.

However, when you’re feeling bad about yourself, and you need a lift, you can feel better just by looking at images like this:

Go ahead, click on them! If god didn’t want you to take comfort in Priscilla and Lisa Marie and Donatella and Woody and Soon Ji, He wouldn’t have created them for us!

There I was, minding my own business, and by that I mean I was trying to research a disorder called somatoparaphrenia, when I came across a blog called Transabled.org.

It’s like a mini-mother lode for anyone who’s ever been curious about Body Integrity Identity Disorder. You know, the one where people feel that they can’t be happy unless they have a limb amputated. You have to love it. I actually saw a documentary about it, featuring several British guys with BIID.  The Britishness was an excellent counterpoint to the disorder: It was like a surreal Monty Python sketch.

Anyway, over at this blog, there is a discussion about the disabled community’s ‘ableism’ in refusing to acknowledge the transabled as deserving of sympathy. Since ‘transabled’ is defined in the blog as ‘wanting to be disabled,’ you can see the problem.

I love disorders! Somatoparaphrenia is the delusion that one of your limbs belongs to someone else, like your doctor or even a stranger.  It could be useful, like if you punch someone in the face you could blame your doctor! Or in my case, I could tell my husband that my new tattoo (which he hates) is actually on the wrist of someone we don’t even know!

I’ll try this when he gets home.