Ego Hangs By a Thread and Dwindle

No Sex and No Social Contact Make Rachel a Dull Girl.

If I could get hold of the television set, I would withstand a beating from the moniter of the computer for leaving it's side.

It's.

Excuse me, its.

Anyway.

If I could take charge of the mattress, it would develop a crush on my body and remember it's shape.

Ever so.

If I had to remain calm for twelve hours, I would develop too many crushes on too many celebrities and there would be no more facebook and my television would be boulder-struck.

When is it happening, Subbie? You told me I was enlightened, and then you told me no.

Too many years of sitting by camp fires hearing naught but naughty tales of elves, said Subbie.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG????


Anyway, this little rambunctious tale ends with naught but a several year promise of glorious fun if we trash the hospital joint later on for rabblerousing entertainment purposes.

Naught but several conscious thought processes enteretained Subbie while she was humming a tune of horrid birth control nightmares from a youth of never having kids.

"I have never had an abortion," said Subbie. "One time, the egg didn't implant due to the birth control you were using, Conscie. It wasn't Plan B."

Would it matter? The answer is no. But it wasn't Plan B.