waste of tape

Warning: This entry contains references to Girl Problems.

Good Morning! I thought I would blog today after my long, self-imposed hiatus because my day is assy! (You like how I used “ass” as an adjective? That’s why they pay me the big bucks.) Pure, unadulterated ass!

This is the thing: I have been PMSing for 9 goddamn days. This is not normal. My irritation and emotional fragility levels have grown together, mutating into some hideous hormonal Gleeok . I watched that episode of Cold Case with the two gay police officers and cried for half an hour straight. Then, I thought, gay police officers, that’s nothing. Gay Cowboys ! And then my brain broke because Heath Ledger! Nooooooooooo! And then I cried more, like horrifying, Claire Danes-style dying giraffe sobs. And then I wanted chocolate. This is what my day is like, crying and craving and crying some more, but with intermittent blinding rages because the fucking copyboy did everything double-sided, but upside down. Upside down! Dude! You have one job and it is to copy things. FAIL!!!

I hate everyone and everything. I am consoling myself by looking up screencaps of the teaboy from Torchwood because he is all fine-boned and youthful and that’s apparently the type of man to which pre-menstrual women are attracted. Unless, of course, in the throes of that blinding rage during which I am attracted to men whose mouths are SEWN SHUT and are ON FIRE.