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Damnit, I have PMS.

This was an incredibly productive week, and I should be feeling pretty good all around, but instead I spent the morning grumpy and brooding. This should have been a warning sign that it was probably a bad time for me to, oh, start reading about uncontacted tribes (which is ALWAYS depressing reading) but I'm not very quick on the uptake.

Then I followed random links and wound up at this guy and promptly burst into tears (not that it's not a bloody tragic story, but I'm generally not quite so hair triggered.)

I should go paint phalloi or something happy.

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Happy phalloi in their finest at a formal dance!

Phalloi on a Saturday afternoon at the park, flying kites and throwing frisbees and walking dogs (or dog-phalloi...) with one phallus lying on its back looking up at the clouds, dreaming!

Happy phalloi in their finest at a formal dance!

In tuxes and ballroom gowns?


(Hrm. I like the idea of a picture of a phallus in a ballroom gown...)

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