Woke up this morning with a sever case of
Nothing really out of the ordinary when it comes to me and PMS. It gives me something I can put my finger on when people look at me like I have two heads. I mean come on it's not a secret that
It's just that PMS amps it up a notch or 10. Surely by now everyone around me knows that
I'm pretty good at it. I've had years of practice.
Some months are worse than others. I should have felt this particular case of PMS coming on since I've devoured everything loaded with carbs or covered in chocolate and/or sugar in this house for the past three days and truly believe right now that
Not to mention the copious amounts of Reese's peanut butter cups I hid from my family from Halloween all for myself.
Too bad
I'm going to be writing a nasty little letter to the people at Safety 1st for not having properly working locks and latches in their stupid "childproofing" set. Sure they keep them from getting out but not from getting IN.
Obviously a concept flaw.
Don't get me wrong
I've single handedly turned them into the little monsters they are today.
On most days I wouldn't trade them for a dime...maybe a shot of tequila, but not a dime.
The husband was out of town all day yesterday and spent the night away from home. He called this morning to let me know he would be home tonight for dinner.
I guess this means I have to get up off my lazy ass and do something today. No more lounging around watching hours and hours of Gilmore girls in my pajamas.
Sure
I bust my ass most of the time cooking and cleaning and nobody ever seems to notice the difference around here when I do make special efforts to do something nice, so my new philosophy is
I'm thinking that as long as nothing is morphing into it's own entity out of the laundry pile and we can actually find the remote control then all is good.
Yes, I'm aware that there are those who will visit me with their white kid gloves on and look down on my new way of thinking but to them I gently say
I'll wait over here out of the way.
to all the mundane little things floating around out there.
The other thing about PMS is that most people have learned that it isn't wise to challenge someone in the throws of an extremely nasty case.
We could bury your body deep in the woods without so much as breaking a nail or even a good sweat......and get away with it.
I haven't exactly figured out the best cure for days like this.
I've tried the buckets and buckets of Haagen Das but that just doesn't seem to do it for me. It just makes me feel that much worse about not being able to button the crumpled up pair of jeans laying in the middle of my bedroom floor that I had on just eight damn days ago.
It's been said that money can't buy happiness but I'm thinking whoever the hell said that was some broke asshole that never tried it.
I say never underestimate the power of retail therapy. I should make buttons and pass them out. I'll take retail therapy over a good romp any day.
Oh, my husband has one with a little bit of green in it but it's mostly in the form of $1 and $5 and he rather enjoys sitting on them. That high pitch squeaking noise you hear is probably my husband walking around with his "bank."
Lucky for me I have my credit cards that he hasn't managed to wrestle from me yet.
Ah, I feel a little better already just getting that all off my chest. Freud couldn't hold a candle to my Old Navy card.
I'll feel even better when I'm back from the land of 50% off fleece pullovers in a little while. I just need to make a quick stop over at MooOMooO'sRUs for something to wear.
And just so you know
Thank you very much.
Not to mention the copious amounts of Reese's peanut butter cups I hid from my family from Halloween all for myself.
Everytime I get one they all flock to me like vultures wanting to know how they can get their hands on one.
The husband knows better to push the issue and openly beg but those pesky children are a different story.
The husband knows better to push the issue and openly beg but those pesky children are a different story.
Too bad
I'm going to be writing a nasty little letter to the people at Safety 1st for not having properly working locks and latches in their stupid "childproofing" set. Sure they keep them from getting out but not from getting IN.
Obviously a concept flaw.
Don't get me wrong
I've single handedly turned them into the little monsters they are today.
On most days I wouldn't trade them for a dime...maybe a shot of tequila, but not a dime.
The husband was out of town all day yesterday and spent the night away from home. He called this morning to let me know he would be home tonight for dinner.
I guess this means I have to get up off my lazy ass and do something today. No more lounging around watching hours and hours of Gilmore girls in my pajamas.
Sure
I bust my ass most of the time cooking and cleaning and nobody ever seems to notice the difference around here when I do make special efforts to do something nice, so my new philosophy is
I'm thinking that as long as nothing is morphing into it's own entity out of the laundry pile and we can actually find the remote control then all is good.
Yes, I'm aware that there are those who will visit me with their white kid gloves on and look down on my new way of thinking but to them I gently say
I'll wait over here out of the way.
It's funny what a good case of PMS will do to the attitude. It can take a sweet, ok sometimes sweet, natured girl like myself and give her the gumption to say
to all the mundane little things floating around out there. The other thing about PMS is that most people have learned that it isn't wise to challenge someone in the throws of an extremely nasty case.
I mean come on
We could bury your body deep in the woods without so much as breaking a nail or even a good sweat......and get away with it.
I haven't exactly figured out the best cure for days like this.
I've tried the buckets and buckets of Haagen Das but that just doesn't seem to do it for me. It just makes me feel that much worse about not being able to button the crumpled up pair of jeans laying in the middle of my bedroom floor that I had on just eight damn days ago.
It's been said that money can't buy happiness but I'm thinking whoever the hell said that was some broke asshole that never tried it.
I say never underestimate the power of retail therapy. I should make buttons and pass them out. I'll take retail therapy over a good romp any day.
Too bad when I got married I was never informed about the importance of
Oh, my husband has one with a little bit of green in it but it's mostly in the form of $1 and $5 and he rather enjoys sitting on them. That high pitch squeaking noise you hear is probably my husband walking around with his "bank."
Lucky for me I have my credit cards that he hasn't managed to wrestle from me yet.
He should notice by now the monthly surge that occurs around the same time every month. If he hasn't then let's just keep that little tidbit between me and you.
The way I look at it, it's a win win because hell who can argue with the logic of
Ah, I feel a little better already just getting that all off my chest. Freud couldn't hold a candle to my Old Navy card.
I'll feel even better when I'm back from the land of 50% off fleece pullovers in a little while. I just need to make a quick stop over at MooOMooO'sRUs for something to wear.
Bloat sucks balls!
And just so you know
Thank you very much.
3 Comments:
LOL Very funny, DeeDee! =)
You should try evening primrose oil, it's supposed to do wonders for pms symptoms.
THat was hilarious and yet so reflective of my own life lately.
I second the Evening Primrose Oil
I love all those pictures! I gave one to a friend last year that said something like "Yoga, meditation and drugs and I still want to kill someone." I think the picture had the women gardening and smiling. Great use of visuals.
And yes, primose oil. Pill form. Can't hurt, although don't tell Old Navy, they might try to take them away from you.
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