Amid my two barking dogs, who are barking so fiercely that it sounds like Michael Vick’s backyard, this is what’s happening:
I’m using my fancy-shmancy running shoes as a beer holder… it’s the only action they’ve seen lately.
I spent last night googling “severe PMS”, “intense PMS”, and “PMDD”. So far this week I have cried in class (twice), at a soccer game, multiple times during my statistics exam, and every time I’m in the car. Nothing is actually wrong. I swear. Apparently too much caffeine, a crappy diet and no exercise exacerbates PMS. Sorry all – but I want to punch everything in the face: my dogs, humans, this computer, and this couch. I’ll give you the all clear when I’m my normal crabby non-crying self.
Colby and I just ate hot dogs, white bread buns, canned green beans, and jalepeno poppers for supper. We both feel like total shit. Off the wagon much?
As I write, Bella is sitting half on me and is trying to bite my fingers as I type. It’s taken me about 4,000 hours to write this so far. Now I want to punch her in the face. Except violence is not the answer. I’m just going to finish my beer and go to bed.
Lot’s of good stuff is happening though, really. I’ll fill you in when I’m no longer entirely consumed by my own crabbiness.
I need some good vibes, people. Send ’em my way.
XOXO
from midnight oil 