Tag: PMS

Once again the hormones did what ever they wanted to do and caused a ruckus. Most of the month I am your average semi functioning passive aggressive. But 2 or 3 hours before the (euphemism) I become just plain aggressive. Even hostile. Lending weight to that old saw that a woman can’t become president because she’ll get her period and nuke some innocent country. Like thats so much worse than destroying a nation so we can have more cheap oil. And how well that has worked with gas costing over 3 bucks a gallon. Oh right, that’s because a hurricane destroyed some oil rigs. And it’s definitely not because Haliburton is going to make money hand over fist whatever way the cookie crumbles.

Mens, thank your stars Hilary is menopausal.
I am joking in case you didn’t know.
So my little hegemony was rattled because no one bought toilet paper for one whole day.
One.Whole.Day.
I am 36 years old. I have not had to live like a college student with milk crates for furniture and paper towels,napkins or tissue paper for toilet paper since I was 21. Part of being a grown up is buying the T.P. before it runs out.
If you can’t manage to do that- then as the person to use the last sheet of toilet paper you are responsible for going out and buying some more. If you fail at this small task either because you plain don’t give a crap or you just don’t notice or you are too much of a sensitive artist to be bothered with such petty details, then you are an asshole.
I live with 3 guys (not what you think) all of them are rather challenged when it comes to domestic affairs. I’ve long since given up on hoping they will clean. But I will fight them to the death on the toilet paper buying and replacing issue.
Normally I grumble under my breath and stomp about. That’s my passive aggressive mode and where I live for 3 weeks each month. But today I bitched about it until my boyfriend threw dishes.
I admit that shut me up.
Speaking of passive aggressiveness there is a site called passiveaggressivenotes.com. I am going to submit my note that I taped to the bathroom door.

All last week I was in a snit because I had to try to find a decent outfit to wear to my Oma’s country club in Sandspoint,L.I.
A and I were making the trip out on Sunday for Mother’s day.
Normally if I am going out and want to look nice I wear a nice shirty-blousy thing and some dark jeans.But I can’t wear jeans to the country club because my Oma has a fit at the sight of them. And since she already thinks everything I wear looks like underwear, I didn’t want to upset her this time around. Also, the club has a rule of no blue jeans in the club house. Needless to say you are all aware that times have changed and that jeans are no longer all blue or only fit for fieldhands,roughnecks,or hobos. But the times have not changed at this club and so I must obey or get Oma in a snit.
My Oma was born in 1919 and her parents were members of this club so you can guess it’s pretty damn old. With ideals to match.Women may not become members only their husbands can. And etc.
I hadn’t seen my Oma in awhile because she was down in Florida for half the year to avoid winter in NY. I wanted to see how she was doing but I was also stressed that she would criticize my appearence when she saw me. I’ve let my hair grow out to a long and messy glory that she would call a scribblepater and I am not that thin.I remain a healthy size 12 and she is a bird boned 6.She has always been a birdboned 6 whereas I have not always been a size 12…which brings me to the shopping nightmare I went through last week. Being a size 12 is ok, I can find a lot to wear in a 12 that doesn’t look too much like a muu muu. But being a puffy size 12 with body dismorphia brought on by premenstrual battshitness is different. I spent about 100 dollars on clothes and will return all of it tomorrow. Since I can’t pick out anything decent when I am totally insane, it all has to go back because it looks quite bad on me.In the end I wore a very nice satin tunic with a mandarin collar over black pants. Both of which I already owned.