Total Ickmeister

For the past few days I have been unwell with an infection, but some antibiotics and rest have got me on that hackneyed and cliched path known as the Road to Recovery. I was thinking of the text as I'm typing, and thought don't type that overused phrase, and if you MUST type that overused phrase, at least acknowledge it is as old and boring as shit.

Life can be stressful at times, like when you open your emails and find a letter from your electricity provider warning you about disconnection if you don't pay a certain amount at a certain time. I respect the importance of paying for a service, but is it really necessary to send an email when the bill's not actually late yet? They remind me of black-suited, sunglass-wearing goons hired by unscrupulous loan sharks.

Being a parent also brings its aggravation. Just once, it would be nice to hear, 'Good morning, Mum. God, you're great!', instead of, 'What's to have for breakfast?' This morning, whilst Mr 18 faffed about with the bread and toaster, I asked Master 15 what he was going to have for breakfast. He didn't even look up from his phone as he replied, 'The souls of the innocent.' I am yet to find that in the cereal aisle, and I am very fussy about what commercial cereal I purchase. I will have a look for this next time I'm shopping, and these souls of the innocent turn out to be one of those gruesome confections falsely promoted as food, he will not be breakfasting upon them.

I decided to give myself a bit of a digital detox today. It went okay. Then I checked my social media timelines and read the most grotesque thing I've heard about in a long time (and this is saying something; I'm the mother of a kid who wants to dine on the souls of the innocent). There's some rapper who goes by the name T.I. I do not know what the initials stand for, but I'm thinking it might be Talentless Imbecile or Twatwaffly Imperiousness, but most likely Total Ickmeister. Anyway, he said he takes his daughter to the gynaecologist every year to check if she's still a virgin. Ick. Just ick to the nth power. T.I., some pointers:

1. Hymens can break in various ways, not just penile/vaginal intercourse.

2. Sex takes many forms, not just penile/vaginal intercourse.

3. Surely what you're doing entails some kind of child abuse.

4. What the fuck type of doctor would go along with this type of foulness?

5. Your fetishization of virginity is creepy as fuck, and to extend your fetish to your daughter makes me want to vomit like a demonically possessed adolescent girl.

6. You're one of the reasons I hate rap music.

I had been recovering nicely from my minor illness, but reading about this loser almost had me spiralling into a relapse.  I had to go on You Tube and play Down by the Lazy River by the Osmonds - it's something of a cheerer-upper, and despite the naffness and cheesiness, by crikey those boys could sing and move!