Backtracking my way across the Arirang again

Yesterday I realized after posting my excitement about Obama-rama that I have a ton of unfinished, unedited, unposted posts just sitting in my post log archive. And once going through some of them, I can't even imagine why I didn't post them in the first place.

I guess the answer to that question leads to the blog post that I am undeniably stalling to write to you: what in the hell I have been up to for the past 5 months of my life. Don't worry, like any other over-analytical person I know, in due time, my friends, my super power of over-analyzing every intricate detail of my life will rear its ugly head and when it does, rest assure this blog will be the first to endure what it has to offer.

However, in the meantime, I kinda want to share these posts with you. They are intimate, of course - and I think that this absence has allowed me to step back and regroup my thoughts about why I started blogging in the first place. Why did I hide these originally? What is so ghastly un-PC about them or embarrassing that I haven't already exposed about myself? So here ya go...starting with this post I had entitled:

So maybe it's TMI but I'm utilizing this blog as my emotional pillow...

Not that I share this kind of info with my friends or rather, the blogger world (I usually tend to just pick random passer-bys and gush out all my inner most personal details about my life instead. Joking, of course. Or not.) but I haven't had a (.)(<--this will signify what I am talking about since for some reason the word "menstruation" sounds ugly, and makes it sound like I have had some disease) in five months. I figure that you have all seen me through my trying times of hair-loss, so why all the symantics? Anyway, I haven't had it in five months. Until Sunday. It was as if my uterus finally got the memo sent from my white blood cells months ago because the memo had been sent by USPS(and we all know how ridiculously slow they can be) and somehow got lost and tossed on Nerve-Ending #2879's desk before he realized that oh shit, this had to be sent to the Uterus months ago now...better late than never, and he promptly placed the memo back on its way. The memo said:

Dear Uter-i: (that's White Blood Cells' nickname for my Uterus.
Because they are tight pals and have been ever since that one time they hung out at the club and went home smashed together.)

We are sorry we over-reacted, and kicked Hair Follicles' ass in.
We just didn't like how they were getting all the attention...all those appointments to the colorists and stylists. When was that no good bitch of a body-owner going to start taking care of us? She really thought just drinking orange juice and taking vitamins was going to appease her WBCs? Dumb bitch. She had another thing comin', obviously.

So please don't take this personally. The attack really wasn't against you or Hair Follicles. We just didn't know what else to do but get radical on her ass in order to start taking better action towards her health. And we're not talkin' just physical. I don't have to tell you how kooky she is. We see how you like to pull those quirky crazy strings come your time of the month to shine. Kudos to you.

Hope no hard feelings, Uterii.

Yo homies,

The WBCs