Raging Bull....crap

I have it bad. It's official. Raging PMS has reared it's ugly head, and good god damn it's a doozy. Things that normally don't bother me today, are eating at me. I'm taking everything anybody says the wrong way, I'm getting all pissy with my kids over the smallest things, and I really want to watch Terms of Endearment, but I think people would laugh at me and that would just make me even more emotional than I already am.

I don't feel like anything I'm doing is good enough, I can't get through the laundry fast enough, the dishes are piling up and my bedroom looks like a Frathouse had it's way with it. All the designs I make are ugly and this god damn computer can eat a big bowl of dick.

SEE?!

Why can't PMS bring you good feelings? Why is it all about the bad. Dude, we already give birth because of it...can't we at least feel a little better once we've put in our episiotomy dues? Being on the rag should make your skin have that beach-y glow, and your hair supermodel shiny, or at least make you loose a few pounds. Ugh.

I'm done today. Before somebody get's hurt.

Now that my husbands home and can watch the kids for a bit, I'm going to go lock myself in the bedroom and watch Terms of Endearment my brand spankin new Sleepaway Camp trilogy that came from Amazon today.



And I'm doing it in my fat pants.

Led Zepplin - Goin To California