Feeling: besmirched
Listening to: the music of weaklings
Reading/Watching: How to Be a Weakling, and Weakness for Dummies

Bleh. Moving sucks, as we all readily know. If Mr. Katie and I have to load the moving van with huge furniture all by ourselves on Sunday (after waiting tables on Mother's Day, in a girly brunch place decorated with flowers and guaranteed to be wall-to-wall with moms who finally got to pick the restaurant), it will kill me daid.

Especially since he seems to think that my lack of a penis makes me more puny somehow. He keeps lamenting that we don't have guys helping out, and I keep chirping irritatedly, "Hey! You still have me!"

Because seriously: having a uterus does not automatically strip me of all ability to lift things over ten pounds. I can pick up my old college roommate, fer-cryin'-out-loud (granted, she weighs like 120, but still). I cannot heft our 32" TV over my head, but I ask you to find a guy among our acquaintance who can.

I could totally arm-wrestle a guy and win; I really could. Never ever doubt my macho-ness. Grr. Rawr. I'll cuss and scratch my balls if I have to.

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