Cookin’ and countin’ down to 50 years old. Just a few more weeks now…

We are indeed officially in the month of the archer, which is my sign, which is always a pretty terrific time of year for one and all. Between the burning-a-hole-into-you intensity of Scorpio and the stick-in-the-mud seriousness of Capricorn lies the blunt and intrepid centaur, and that’s all I need to say about that. The next four weeks are going to be fabulous, darling. Now, do I actually believe in astrological signs? To an extent, I suppose I do, but really, it’s all in good fun. It’s all a silly, goofy game that doesn’t mean anything; I don’t take any of it to heart. I’m not going to spin on my heel because I’ve found out you were born under a certain sign, or sprint towards you because we’re apparently compatible. What foolishness! I would simply never let this sort of cotton-candy, whisps-in-the-wind, fantasy-literature zodiac fluff affect me one way or another!

…apart from staying the absolute fuck away from Gemini women and Taurus men. No, no, no, no, NO. Holy water and crucifixes and death by fire for those ghouls. I don’t care that Pete Townshend, Ace Frehley, and Joey Ramone were/are all Tauruses; perhaps they had something else in their natal chart that mercifully smoothed out their cursed sun sign enough to allow them to make glorious music in what were arguably the three most influential bands of my life.

But it’s all meaningless, really! Just sheer nonsense!

I have to keep this extremely brief, as I made a smashingly good green Thai tofu-vegetable curry (and watched a surprisingly decent comedy-horror flick called “Heart Eyes”) with a pal tonight, and I’m gassier than a Petro-Canada station right now. I also got a full panel of blood work done this week, and the results showed that I’m absolutely normal on all levels (kidneys, blood sugar, thyroid, liver, iron) except my vitamin B12. It’s very,very low. This was a shocker, but perhaps not: most of the foods that contain B12 are things I don’t eat (liver, beef, offal) or things I wouldn’t even consider eating to supplement it (fortified molasses and brewer’s yeast, as B12 is found in animal products, and those two things are pretty gross anyway). I consume plenty of delicious seafood, but apparently that’s not enough, so today I went and got a bag of insulin syringes and a bottle of B12 serum and gave myself my first intramuscular injection in my left quadricep. You can really only supplement B12 properly with sublingual tablets or injections, and I prefer the direct hit; I’m also not afraid of needles, though at the lab, I refuse to watch my own blood be drawn.

The B12 shot was quite nice. I felt like a junkie, sort of, standing there in my bathroom with my pants around my ankles and plunging a needle into my leg, but the overall sensation was very good. Maybe between this stuff and my strong coffee and my morning nature walks, I’ll actually sprout wings and fly.

But where would I go?

I’ll be back soon, I’ve got some things to blog about that don’t involve astrology or flatulence.

Love

Nadya