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Tuesday, January 29, 2008

PMS

I've got a mean case of the PMS'ers today.

It's only 9am, and I've already threatened two people's lives. Under my breath, of course.

For example, a woman was (and I hate when people do this) just staring at me as I walked into the building this morning.

"Yes?!" I wanted to say. "Can I help you?"

But instead I gave her the raised eyebrow. This quickly prompted her to avert her attention elsewhere.

Yesterday, I bit my husband's head off when he told me he didn't want to go grocery shopping. My mind went into overdrive, quickly putting questions and responses together of an angry conversation that would surely ensue when he got home from work.

And because of the imagined dialogue I had with myself, I heard him saying, "I'm not going grocery shopping; that's a woman's job and it's beneath me."

He, of course, would never say this because he knows he'd have to sleep with one eye open. But nevertheless, he was doomed the minute he walked through the door. We had a spat, for which I eventually apologized for, but personally, I don't like telling him when I'm PMSing because I assume he'll use it against me.

Just like if I tell him I've had a bad day at work. If we argue about something, he'll wind up saying, "Don't take it out on me because you had a bad day!" So I don't dare tell him about PMS until I've already attacked him. Then it's my get out of jail free card.

And I haven't even gotten to the bloating and unrelenting cramps.

But first, I must address the insatiable appetite I have while under the influence of PMS.

I turn into a woman who hasn't eaten in months and must now make up for time lost. Anything will do: chips, cookies, candy, fast food, AND carbs carbs carbs, which I believe aid in the relief of headaches.

Getting headaches, and not my regular migraines, is my brain's way of telling me that it's almost that time of the month, and like clock work, I get them every day before I start my period.

Pamprin and Midol are bullshit methods of manufacturers trying to make money off desperate women who are trying to stifle these nasty side-effects, and I'm definitely one of those desperate women. But they don't work for me. I'd prefer a stiff drink.

In fact, this brings me to cramps: I had cramps so badly one time, before a friend and I were going to go out, that I had slumped over onto the floor of my bedroom, crying in pain, in what I imagine is similar to giving birth. I was not about to miss out on a night of clubbing, so I asked my friend to get me a shot of tequila, which turned into three.

And God bless tequila, because it worked.

However, in times where tequila would be inappropriate, I use heat wraps. I love those things. They're so handy. But, I imagine I look strange at work, fiddling with my lower region if the wrap moves.

And the bloating, oh God, the bloating!

I like to think that the bloating and my appetite will subside once this God awful week is over, but I know it's just an excuse.

I just wish I had another excuse for all those other times of bloating, cramps, headaches and extreme eating habits.

The bitchiness?

Well, that just comes with the territory so there's nothing I can do about it, although the PMS excuse does come in handy in those moments of insanity.

What's my justification the rest of the time?

No-Smoking!


I hear/see this alot.

And yep, I'm a smoker. Not exactly proud of that but it's the truth.

Somehow, this makes me a deviant; subject to scrutiny and dirty looks.

It's not like I intentionally seek out people that are offended by smoking, and exhale in their faces.

Pretty soon, society is not going to even allow me to smoke in front of my own house!

I have an addiction! And like all other addictions, I need my fix.

How many of my fellow smokers have heard this:

"It's bad for you."

Well no shit! Why do you think I do it?

Now me and my smoking posse at work can't smoke within 20 feet of doors, which is totally understandable. But why is it that when we abide by these rules, we STILL get the evil eye?

Smoking doesn't make me a bad person. In fact, I figure I'm doing society a favor by smoking, because I'd be a REAL bitch without it.

So, please save the lectures because we've heard them all before. Short of a bolt of lightening striking a cigarette from our fingers, it's not going to do any good.

And like any good addict, we have to quit when we're ready to quit.

I told one of my girlfriends that I'd quit smoking after my wedding. So, after the wedding, she said "I thought you were going to quit smoking after the wedding?!"

I continue to tell her that anytime (whether it be tomorrow or ten years from now) after the wedding qualifies as 'after the wedding'.

She calls me a brat.

I'm just not ready to quit yet. Cigarettes are a total crutch for me and although I know I don't need them... I do.
Now, I can agree that smoking is a foul habit; not only is it 'bad for you', I personally can't stand to be around other people that are smoking, if I'm not.

One day, my friend and I were on a smoke break at work, sitting in the 'smoking section' which I consider to be by the ashtray when a woman was sitting at a nearby table, bitching and moaning about how smoking was so sick; disgusting; rude; smelly; and we shouldn't be smoking by her.

"Well, don't sit by the ashtray!" we wanted to yell.

When I go to the doctor and they take my blood pressure, temperature and weight, I'm always asked if I smoke.

"Yes," I reply, sheepishly.

And when I see the nurse going for her "Smoking is bad for you and you should quit immediately or you're going to die" literature, I tell her I've already got it and politely add that I don't want her to kill a tree because I smoke.

I've been smoking professionally since I was 17. You know when you're young and experimental, you take up smoking to look cool and only when with your friends, talking shit and trying to act all adult.

I knew I had a problem when I began smoking by myself.

And drinking goes hand in hand with smoking. They should be served together.

Fortunately for me, I married an ex-smoker. He sympathizes because he knows how hard it is to quit, so he doesn't give me the business.

Except, he likes to tease me occasionally after a kiss by saying "Lieutenant Dan, she tasted like cigarettes," a la Forrest Gump.

Now, I do have to admit that I've obtained a nasty hack and my skin is dehydrated, but that's STILL not going to make me quit.

Maybe someday.

However, all this talk of smoking has made me want a cigarette.

But, I know I shouldn't.

Oh, what the fuck.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Definition: Bitch

Bitch: is a term for the female of a canine species in general. It is also frequently used as an offensive term for a woman, taken to mean that she is malicious, spiteful, domineering, intrusive, or unpleasant.

I'm not offended.