Die PMS, die!!!

Watch out.  I'm going to go off.  I'd bust a cap in someone's ass if I had a cap for busting or even an ass handy. (I'm home alone, fortunately, you are welcome, world).  I can feel it bubbling up to the surface like an overboiling pot of water or even more accurately, like a dam that is about to burst at the seams and send an entire lake full of water rushing down towards a small unsuspecting town.  Run for your lives, people.  Run for your lives.

It's that time of month.

I am on edge.  I am pissed off.  I even know why I am pissed off, yet I am helpless to change it.  Damn PMS just needs to run it's damn course so I can feel human again.  It's bad enough that my uterus feels like it is twisting into balloon animals.  I can deal with that. They even make pills for that. Cramps are minor compared to this frickin MONSTER I have become. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to do anything, if you are in my way, get OUT of it, because I am not moving, even if I technically wasn't I will be operating on the following principles for the next 3-7 days:

1.  I was here first.
2.  I am always right

I love Mexican food and I bought a tamale.  It tasted like ass.  I am pissed.  It is a one day sale at Macy's so I went.  They didn't have any good shoes.  I am pissed.  I went to DSW to salvage the shoe situation.  Still no good shoes.  I am pissed.  I went to Costco so my daughter could snack on samples (a favorite pastime of hers) and we waited for 10 minutes at the ham station, and it could have been done faster, but the sample lady was gabbing instead of doing her job, so we had to wait.  I am pissed.  The weekend is almost over, I have nothing to show for it, I have to go back to work tomorrow.  I AM PISSED.

Consider yourself warned...

~J