aksiokersa

It's my journal (if you already read the intro about IC, check out today's thoughts underneath the row of pretty pretty stars)

I thought it would be cool to document teh life of a chick who's got the girlie-disease "interstitial cystitis."
A lotta people don't know what I.C. is so here goes: incurable tiny ulcers inside the wall of your bladder make it hard to walk, exercise, eat, drink, fuck, dance, breathe, smell flowers, blah blah blah.

The thing is? I have this disease and i'm still kickin' ass.
And other for-real chicks that have bullshit going on with their bodies can relate.

No matter what our mutherfucking misogynistic doctors, sadistic nurses, well-meaning family members, and uninformed aquaintances say, we are awesome, and we can do a good job of taking care of ourselves, thankyouverymuch.
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Aw, man.
My punk rock girl is in the hospital today.
She fucked herself up trying out for the roller derby team.
Wouldn't you know.

Le Sigh.

There is, however, another.
There's this cute girl that works at the women's shelter that has tried to molest me a few times now. Her friends are trying to set us up tonight. I'm not really into her though...and I'm pretty desperate, so that is saying something.

I think I will just head down to Everyday Music and add to my Bikini Kill collection. There's always a good chance you'll meet a cutie in the Grrrly Rock section.

Then I'll probably succumb to the best pancakes and cutest waitress in the world at The Roxy.

So it goes...