There are both profoundly good and profoundly bad things you can find forming across your body at any given time. While a good thing would be anyone daft enough to sleep with me, the opposite, a large body wide rash decided it was a jolly good idea to appear instead.

Of course I am not cruel enough to post pictures and send the general female populace into a mating frenzy like the last time (although you will need to read the word “mating” as “vomiting”) I dared share photographic evidence of my existence, but do allow me the mercy of discussing this event textually. If need be you may send me any video clips of feverish masturbation that occurred as a result (or vomiting as we already mentioned, as that would probably appeal to one of my fetishes I’m yet to discover) and I’ll make sure to give myself a right and dandy thrashing about while watching them to help calm things down.

No one ever sends videos.

Well………….no one without a penis at least.

SO MY RASH, I named him Peter. Peter’s a nice name for a rash, not really a nice name for a person but a pretty good name for a rash. Most Peters are assholes………or rashes, which is probably why it’s not a good name for a person.

For those of you still clinging on to hope for a single sembling piece of logical progression in this entry: Peter’s existence came into being when I turned hypersensitive to my anti-convulsant medication and entered a state of dangerous perpetual delirium already proven by the contents of this entry several times over.

Without mulling over many of the details about how I looked death in the eye, squinted a wee bit and showed it I meant business via my ever vigilant incontinence, I will say that I’m now on new slightlylesslikelytomurdermeinmysleep-medication while I wait to see how that plays out and we consider if I need to take things any further (that is, me having a lumbar puncture and even more delightfully unpleasant tests to determine my supreme level of neurological dysfunction).

On the positive side though the Neurologist is pretty sure that my form of Epilepsy is the Temporal Lobe kind (which granted IS one of the worst kinds but wait for the good news) which means I need not fear games or anime as it isn’t a reflexive epilepsy whatsoever but rather a “justfarkyouupwheneveritwants” sort. This does however mean my recent desperate delve into the land of eroge gaming as an emergency alternative is slightly less………..excusable.

(Although really when you consider how the games train real life decision making skills and full motion kiss control I’m sure you’ll all be overwhelmed by a sense of envy. No no it just FEELS like pity, but I assure you……..you’re feeling envy)

P.S.

The sad thing is I took those screenshots myself.

P.P.S.

The even sadder thing is I only got a PICNIC at the end of that game. A GOD DAMN PICNIC AND AN ACCIDENTAL HAND HOLD.

EVEN IN EROGE I DIE A VIRGIN.