This really toasts my tits

I mean it this time. My brain really did pop. My head is completely empty now. Total obstreperal lobe meltdown. I stopped by I Blame the Patriarchy earlier and was appalled and utterly disheartened to learn that Twisty's tits may in fact and literally get toasted any day now. Or worse. Yeah, I know that breast cancer isn't nearly as lethal as it used to be, what with all the new treatments & so on, but it's gotta be unpleasant as hell -- the treatment, I mean.

I've never met Twisty in person, but she is after all a fellow spinster aunt and she's certainly, as I believe I've mentioned about a million times, a writer and patriarchy-blamer I admire deeply. And a hell of a cook, apparently.

I almost sort of wish I could stand outside her room & listen when some unsuspecting representative of the survivor's support group brings her a basket of fuzzy, be-ribboned pink crap. I'd want to be well out of the way, though, when she started hurling fluffy projectiles out the door.

I totally blame the goddamn fucking patriarchy. The fuckers.