"are you cold?"

"cold, jess?"

"what's the matter? ya cold?"

"ya cold? this isn't cold!"

"are you cold?"

yes.

yes i am cold.

if i walk outside and it's in the forties? i'm cold.

if my nose starts running while i travel the short distance from parking lot to office building, i'm cold.

if my nipples go hard enough to cut glass and most synthetic materials once i am out in the elements, i'm cold.

so maybe you'll pardon me my scarf and my hat, bastard iowan. perhaps, you'll take your "sheesh! it's still tshirt weather!" and stay still while i bend you over and insert it gently into your anti-freeze coated kitty hole. perhaps, you'll not try to scare me with tales of being frozen inside for days at a time, only to laugh while i cross myself and start praying to mother mary that i am out of the god forsaken midwest by the time a real snow falls.

perhaps you give me a fucking break and admit that i am cute in my beanie and scarf, because i am.

hi, hello, how are you? i'm super, thanks for asking. last night/this morning i didn't fall asleep until somewhere between 5 and 6 am.

how do i feel?

FUCKING AWESOME!!!

first of all, let me just tell you that i talked to anna for like 2 hours last night, and if it weren't for her damned phone assing out, we probably would have talked until one of us had to start getting ready for work. i sincerely heart that girl.

second of all? i think i somehow slept in such a weird position that i wigged out a muscle attached to my STERNUM. my sternum! like, what the hell?

what the hell?

i did all sorts of weird exercises this morning, trying to smooth it out, and i took all these deep breaths to see if maybe my lungs were collapsing, but i determined that, no, rather than being a heart attack or complete respiratory failure, it was a musculo-skeletal issue.

things improved when i put on my bra, so this leads me to ask the question: will my breasts eventually kill me? will these luscious melons of bounce bounce boing boing, which have brought delight to millions (and considerable pleasure to myself), be the arbiters of the death blow? will i wake up some morning, push myself up onto my knees from sleeping on my stomach, only to find my breasts, evil-doers, actually separate from my body, tearing my chest open, pulling my sternum apart, and then, finally, causing my heart to fall out, hot red and beating, onto my bedsheets where stuart can bat at it like his catnip toy?

will this happen?

please advise.

i am looking outside and i see the swirling arctic wind pulling the trees this way and that.

it's supposed to snow shower on thursday.