Hungry Ghost's Daily Diet (TM)

Not my temple.

It's sad. It's really quite sad, and I'm having so trouble containing my grief. It's one of those cruel to be kind situations. All very harrowing on the emotions. An act that requires great sacrifice from one for the greater good. A time when one must simply put one's feelings aside, do the deed and think of how much better off humanity would be were the sharp object and temple to meet.

Sad, and I shall cry the most, I'm sure, but Miss Diva must die. And in the most painful manner possible. After all, how are cells suppose to remain attached when you shake slides too vigorously. Apparently, it doesn't matter to Miss Diva who's using what equipment as long as she needs it, so she just commandeers it without even bothering to ask, or check.

She's best described as the past-tense of a twit. No, really. She is.

Wait, a more accurate description would be an actively copulating past-tense of a twit.


update: Just back from a quick run before heading out to a glittering end of festival gala or some such thing - free tickets - how exclusive can this be. And I'll rescind what I said about Miss Diva. She's misguided, but still needs a blow to the temple, only I'll use a blunt rather than sharp object and the intent will be to stun and/or maim, rather than kill.


Really, I'm much, much, much too forgiving. Much too New Testament for my own good.