When God invented women (sorry Darwin, I doubt we women 'evolved' from anything. We just happened. To the world. With all our wholesome complexities.) he invented one crazy acid trippy wonderland of emotional whatchamacallits. PMS is one of them. Today I will 'gank' anyone Dean and Sam style if they tell me PMS is imaginary or just another excuse to behave badly. Sorry but you don't have proof. And I do have PMS. And I don't like your face. Or pretty much anything else. And in this phase of glorious grotesqueness I shall behave badly and as often as I like. You cant do anything about it. I am going to be whiny and gripe-y and grumpy and you shall put up with it. The world is one bleak shade of blue and the paint guys won't show up for another five days.
The good news is it doesn't last. Sorry that's a lie. The bad news is it lasts. For however long I let it. And this blog post sucks. But you are reading it. That means you get to live. 
Yaay! I lived! :)
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