Hello, kind heart
“Misery is a communicable disease.” ~Martha Graham
For years, I’ve been in denial. Deep denial; for it couldn’t possibly be true. It was a myth perpetuated by other women to make themselves feel better for acting like heinous bitches. That was all. Nothing real, just a figment of the imagination and lo, I sound like a guy again, but I digress. Even if it was true and actually was a possibility, I had never been affected and I could never succumb to it. I’m always mean and bitchy, so there really could be no way for me to become meaner and bitchier. Really though, look at me:
See? Angry and scary and I could kick your ass (also one of the worst pictures ever, so be kind. Really). Ok, no, no I can’t really kick ass and I would never do so. But yes! I am indeed rather surly like most of the time so why would two weeks of the month be any different. Oh but they are. I’ve succumbed to every cranky PMSing bone in my body and have been feeding it copious amounts of Au Bon Pain half priced (after that is) pastries and mac and cheese. And last night I ate Chinese food in a way that I haven’t had Chinese food since
So, I’m going crazy and stuffing myself with MSG and of course, being the equal opportunity hater that I am, I have spread my loveliness throughout the land (READ: greater Metro DC area and through the internet). Which means that no matter how nice and kind and sweet you’ve been to me, even if you play Johnny Cash for me on command, I will most likely call you a little shit and tell you that I hate you.
I am one very pleasant person as of late. An invariable ray of sunshine for all those that surround me. Though I must admit that today is better. Today I got dressed in something other than cords and clogs and I didn’t stare at my carrots with a look of disgust and demand why (WHY?!?!) they weren’t deep fried and dipped in butter.
All of this is topped with a great big cherry that is my sudden, umm…aversion…to grapes in their liquefied and fermented form. No, really. And apparently I have developed the same aversion to both wheat and barely in that same form as well.
Anyway, I’d say that there’s optimism, but alas there is none. Save for, Stacypalooza v. 2.0 with new java script plug-ins. Well, la-di-freaking-da. And I mean that in the nicest most loving way that I can possibly muster up right now.