Damn it all.

WARNING: IF YOU ARE MALE, YOU MIGHT JUST WANT TO SKIP OVER THIS ENTRY. YOU KNOW...FOR YOUR OWN SAFETY.

Okay, so I was PMS-ing. Is that really a very good excuse? And, in all actuality, it isn't even a legit excuse, since I was technically past the all mighty tyranny of PMS. Yep, definitely crossed THAT bridge. I was full on MS-ing... Uh, not like the disease, but like the "PMS" without the "P." Okay, that sounds too gross. Let's just call it PPMS. NO, SKIP THAT. That doesn't even make any sense. But I think you catch the gist of what I'm trying to get across here, people.

It was fine. I was fine. I was actually having a pretty good day. We (Grammy and Myself, minus the Mother of Diplomacy, who is currently on vacation without me:(:(:( ) , went out to lunch at a little dinner. We were getting along considerably well, considering the Mother of Diplomacy (who is aptly named) was not present. There wasn't much talking, but it wasn't hostile of awkward of anything.

Now, let's get to the real reason we were there: the food.

And I could have been naughtier than I actually was. I could have ordered a "cheese Frenchie," which is basically nature's version of an atomic bomb, only instead of nuclear waste eating the environment, it's the fat count sticking to your arteries and slowly inclining your cholesterol that do the damage to the metaphorical Hiroshima.

Anyway, what I ordered instead--cheese nachos with sour cream, salsa, and jalapenos--didn't add up to nearly the amount of destruction it could have.

It wasn't until it came that I realized I had made a mistake. Because the plate was bigger than my head. And I generally try not to eat more food than the circumference of my noggin. It also looked really greasy.

And after the first bite, I lost my whole appetite. Because--at that exact moment, when I was about gorge myself on unhealthy food because I have my period and that's always a good excuse to eat crap--that's when my body decides that it wants to remind me of the burden of being a woman.

It figures that God would do something like this to teach me to make a better choice the next time I went out to eat.

I got these massive cramps. No, not just cramps, but the Holy-Mother-of-all-that-is-HOLY kind of cramps. And I sat there (what else could I do?) and made pained conversation, and ate my food like a good little girl (trust me, no little girl would be in that much pain for that particular reason, ever in a million years), smiling and not talking between bites. Mind you, I wasn't even hungry anymore at that point. I was on automatic, trying to act like a normal person instead of an enraged lunatic, screaming about the monster eating everybody once it ate through my pelvis. Which is what I really wanted to do.

NO, what I really wanted to do was go home, and put on my most comfortable sweats (even if they weren't exactly spring fresh) and go lie in a corner moaning until the cramps subsided a little.

But there was no way in hell THAT was going to happen.

It took forever to get home. Why did the city have to pick now--NOW, when I'm about dying from womanhood--to tear up all of the main roads, and instead replace them with crappy detours that put you at least twenty minutes out of your way, just in order to get home?

The mysteries of the world.

And all the way home, all I could think was, "I hate my life. I hate myself." Now, you've got to understand that I'm not normally like this. And this wasn't even really hormone related either. But I'll give you the reasons, in a nut-shell, to why my thoughts were hostilely turned inward:

1) The ride was taking forever
2) If I wasn't a woman, this wouldn't be happening in the first place
3) My mom should be hear, listening to me bitch about this situation, considering this was all HER FAULT! for having me in the first place
4) I couldn't exactly "bitch" with my grandmother in the car
5) I was writing this blog entry, in my head, while driving in a car going 20 miles an hour, clutching my stomach, and in the background of my thoughts, clearly audible through all of the writhing and pain and blogging and personality, a sickeningly happy song by Ingrid Michaelson had the nerve to be blasting in the virtual speakers of my brain. If there had to be waiting music, then I at least expected something that fit the situation, like death metal, or Johnny Cash.
6) OH, yeah, and did I mention MY UTERUS WAS FALLING OUT!!!!!!!!!!, or in the very least doing the jitter-bug inside of my body, making sure to kick all organs in its reach.

So, yeah, I think I maybe had a right to keep thinking my life sucked, and that I sucked as well.

And as alarming as this testament might be, I should just tell you, I wasn't actually dying. This is pretty normal for me, ever month or so.

But is sure as hell sucks squid.

Naturally, after writing all of this, I would happen to come to the conclusion that I needed to talk about a very important issue in our society today....

Implants.

Yeah, that really just happened.

No, I'm just changing the subject, because I still have cramps, and I need to try to distract myself, and talking about how painful they are isn't really helping. (And don't think that I'm a wimp, because I actually have a very high threshold for pain, but they are extremely torturous this time around.)

So, on that note, you know how some people get boob implants? Well, I was thinking, what about people who get butt implants? And don't try to pretend that I'm the only weirdo out there who has ever thought about this. Because I know you're out there!

Anyway, butt implants. I know people get them. But, even in comparison to boob implants, they seem a little.... Well, stupid.

What happens when you have to sit? And what if you accidentally sit on something sharp?

Ouch! Oh nooooo!!! There goes ten grand down the toilet.....

And speaking of toilets. Would butt implants make it super weird to go to the bathroom? It would be like sitting on a cushion all the time...

And you wouldn't really be able to live in a cold place, because what if you accidentally left the window open, and the implants froze. Burrr! That would be CHILLY.

Same goes for hot weather; they would start to boil.

I guess it just goes to show that, whether it's cheese nachos or butt implants, there are a lot of bad ideas out there.

Thanks for reading!

P.S. THIS is a video of the totally kick-ass Ingrid Michaelson concert I went to on Sunday. She was hilarious!!! There was this little girl in the audience, who kept saying, "I love you Angle Michaelson!" and she interacted with her the whole night. In this video (I was standing right behind the person who took it), you can kind of hear the little girl. Anyway, this is a cover of "Toxic." Yes, the one by Brittany Spears. It's reallly funny, but not until the end. Just watch it to see what I mean.