I am premenstrual severely, premenstrual. I was buzzing around Wegman's with the fabulous Ms. S, the cutest girl on two feet and this is usually a pleasant, even delightful experience for me. Do not get me wrong the aspect of basking in the company of Ms. S is withhout fail a delight. But my body chemistry has murderous intent and one simple twat adjacent to the avocados had days that were way past numbered.
A confession: I've been banned from a couple of supermarkets in my day, when I had the panties of evil (as I often refer to PMS) under far less control than I do today. And both of my bannings resulted in my behavior after I'd been hit with a shopping cart, in both cases, I was hit more than once and objected rather strenuously, loudly and as I am large, largely. This did not prevent me from being hit. In the one instance I simply turned around reached for the offending cart behind me in the checkout line and upended it. I was escorted from the store. the other time I was hit twice, but followed the offender to the parking lot and upended the cart on the hood of her car. 'Twas then, I said to myself "self, we may required professional help"...
Which we sought, from the shrink knowns as "that fucking woman in H-D". It's time to go work on my anger management exercises or tomorrow will not be an optimal work experience for anyone.
29 June 2008
And Now for Something Completely Different - Cynthia Heimel
The brilliance of Cynthia Heimel is in its complete glorious glory here:
12:26 | PMS and Outfits · Cynthia Heimel
Hello, I’m premenstrual. So I’ve chained myself to the radiator.
Why? Must you ask?
I’ve chained myself to the radiator because if I give myself an inch, I’ll go shopping. And if I go shopping I will buy something. And that thing I buy, that thing I find myself madly and irrevocably in love with, the thing that I think I’ve secretly wanted all my life and only finally had the courage to buy will probably be a brightly voluminous turquoise jumpsuit with epaulets. I’m not crazy about jumpsuits. I’ve shunned turquoise since I was seven. I hate epaulets.
But today I don’t. Today I think of epaulets as the bee’s knees. Today I think I might have been hasty in condemning jumpsuits and turquoise. Today I want to be wild and free as the wind. I have PMS. I am insane. Really bonkers. If you live in England and happen to have PMS when you commit a murder, you can be acquitted. England is a very enlightened country.
You wouldn’t believe the boots I got once. Putrid green. There was fringe involved, and I believe some silver studs. Maybe not, I can’t bear to open the box and look at them.
The buying of unfortunately colored boots is the biggest symptom of PMS. I was having a business lunch with a perfectly awful girl once, the kind of girl who steals boyfriends. She was wearing neon-blue, leather cowboy boots. Snakeskin and suede inserts. Scalloped tops. Tassels. Beige stacked heels. Excruciating. You could kill yourself just looking at them.
“What do you think of my boots?” she asked.
“When did you buy them?” I asked.
“Last week sometime,” she said.
“When was your last period?” I asked.
“It just started today,” she said. “Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “The boots are extremely pleasant.”
“You don’t think they’re a little busy or something? I’m having doubts.”
“On the contrary, I think your boots are very stylish and delightful,” I said, remembering how she tried to steal Rita’s boyfriend at a party once.
Once in the throes of PMS I had to go to a crucial meeting that would determine my entire future. I had to look great.
I surveyed the contents of my closet and burst into tears.
“I have nothing to wear!” I wailed. “Everying I own is too boring, boring, boring!”
Then I ransacked my drawers until I came upon this utterly charming, tomato-red sweater shoved behind some old bathing suits.
“Why, you cute thing,” I said to the sweater. “I wonder why I buried you.” Then, looking behind some boxes in a closet, I happened upon a magenta skirt.
“What a chic idea,” I decided.
I went through my tights and in a trice found a lovely burgundy-hued pair. A cerise jacket and scarlet shoes completed my ensemble.
“I am a symphony of reds,” I sang to myself as I left the house.
Luckily a security guard stopped me on my way to the meeting.
“You’re kidding about the outfit, right?” he asked.
“Out of my way, little man,” I commanded. “You just don’t understand innovations of style.”
“I understand that you look just like my wife does right before she gets her period,” he said. “‘Joe,’ my wife says, ‘you ever catch me trying to leave the house like this, lock me in a closet.’”
“You think a bright green dress instead?” I asked him.
”Do yourself a favor, go home and put on a navy suit,” he said.
So I did and so here are the PMS rules. Neglect them at your own peril:
Mark of on your calendar the day you will become insane. When that day arrives, you are officially on PMS-Watch. Call a nonpremenstrual friend to make decisions for you, even what to have for breakfast, because if she doesn’t, you’ll have Ring Dings and Valium.
When you’re not premenstrual, assemble a tasteful outfit for meetings-that-could-change-your-life. Make sure this ensemble hangs in the designated PMS area of your closet. Make sure you wear it.
One week before your period, give all your credit cards to a close friend. Tell her to lock them up until your third day of menstruation. By then the desire for hideous boots has flown.
Keep away from guns, knives, and epaulets.
12:26 | PMS and Outfits · Cynthia Heimel
Hello, I’m premenstrual. So I’ve chained myself to the radiator.
Why? Must you ask?
I’ve chained myself to the radiator because if I give myself an inch, I’ll go shopping. And if I go shopping I will buy something. And that thing I buy, that thing I find myself madly and irrevocably in love with, the thing that I think I’ve secretly wanted all my life and only finally had the courage to buy will probably be a brightly voluminous turquoise jumpsuit with epaulets. I’m not crazy about jumpsuits. I’ve shunned turquoise since I was seven. I hate epaulets.
But today I don’t. Today I think of epaulets as the bee’s knees. Today I think I might have been hasty in condemning jumpsuits and turquoise. Today I want to be wild and free as the wind. I have PMS. I am insane. Really bonkers. If you live in England and happen to have PMS when you commit a murder, you can be acquitted. England is a very enlightened country.
You wouldn’t believe the boots I got once. Putrid green. There was fringe involved, and I believe some silver studs. Maybe not, I can’t bear to open the box and look at them.
The buying of unfortunately colored boots is the biggest symptom of PMS. I was having a business lunch with a perfectly awful girl once, the kind of girl who steals boyfriends. She was wearing neon-blue, leather cowboy boots. Snakeskin and suede inserts. Scalloped tops. Tassels. Beige stacked heels. Excruciating. You could kill yourself just looking at them.
“What do you think of my boots?” she asked.
“When did you buy them?” I asked.
“Last week sometime,” she said.
“When was your last period?” I asked.
“It just started today,” she said. “Why?”
“No reason,” I said. “The boots are extremely pleasant.”
“You don’t think they’re a little busy or something? I’m having doubts.”
“On the contrary, I think your boots are very stylish and delightful,” I said, remembering how she tried to steal Rita’s boyfriend at a party once.
Once in the throes of PMS I had to go to a crucial meeting that would determine my entire future. I had to look great.
I surveyed the contents of my closet and burst into tears.
“I have nothing to wear!” I wailed. “Everying I own is too boring, boring, boring!”
Then I ransacked my drawers until I came upon this utterly charming, tomato-red sweater shoved behind some old bathing suits.
“Why, you cute thing,” I said to the sweater. “I wonder why I buried you.” Then, looking behind some boxes in a closet, I happened upon a magenta skirt.
“What a chic idea,” I decided.
I went through my tights and in a trice found a lovely burgundy-hued pair. A cerise jacket and scarlet shoes completed my ensemble.
“I am a symphony of reds,” I sang to myself as I left the house.
Luckily a security guard stopped me on my way to the meeting.
“You’re kidding about the outfit, right?” he asked.
“Out of my way, little man,” I commanded. “You just don’t understand innovations of style.”
“I understand that you look just like my wife does right before she gets her period,” he said. “‘Joe,’ my wife says, ‘you ever catch me trying to leave the house like this, lock me in a closet.’”
“You think a bright green dress instead?” I asked him.
”Do yourself a favor, go home and put on a navy suit,” he said.
So I did and so here are the PMS rules. Neglect them at your own peril:
Mark of on your calendar the day you will become insane. When that day arrives, you are officially on PMS-Watch. Call a nonpremenstrual friend to make decisions for you, even what to have for breakfast, because if she doesn’t, you’ll have Ring Dings and Valium.
When you’re not premenstrual, assemble a tasteful outfit for meetings-that-could-change-your-life. Make sure this ensemble hangs in the designated PMS area of your closet. Make sure you wear it.
One week before your period, give all your credit cards to a close friend. Tell her to lock them up until your third day of menstruation. By then the desire for hideous boots has flown.
Keep away from guns, knives, and epaulets.
28 June 2008
21 June 2008
Vermin In The Workplace Day 2
We had another mouse appearance at work yesterday and as Evil Queen I was summoned! Am still mystified as to what was expected of me. My sprinting and catching wild animals days have pretty much passed me by. So this mouse was a bold fellow, just stood there calmly eyeballing me as I eyeballed him and I quickly slid a box lid under him and marched us over to the elevators. He, I and my friend G who was descending to the fresh hell of the 3rd floor rode down and I proceeded to take him to the first floor, intending to release him into the wilds of Trenton. As I departed the elevator, I was met by C of the maintenance staff who escorted the young mouse to the back yard. I am now known as both Evil Queen and mouse whisperer. This photo is more than somewhat blurry but is the mouse in question in the boxlid mentioned.
19 June 2008
Vermin in the Workplace
No I'm not referring to coworkers. One of my folks spotted a mouse making a break for it across her foot. She provided earsplitting shrieks as did the mouse, but I wasn't telling her that was the mouse shrieking. And at heart I am the Evil Queen so I'm bring some of my catlets toy mice to work to see what kind of hell I can raise.
17 June 2008
OH FRESH HELL!
I returned to work from a week off for good behavior and it just gets deeper in fucked up moronic nonsense. One of the minions makes it more and more obvious on a daily basis that she requires both hands, a road map and GPS to find her ass. Years ago I promised myself that I no longer literally or figuratively beat my head against the wall. Today, I came very close to breaking that promise to myself.
14 June 2008
Hmmm
So I'm off to a wedding later today, I'm not much for weddings and not simply because my kind are discouraged from having them and so forth. It's mainly because the sentiment expressed is not based in the reality of history. Love, forever, blah, blah, blah. Back in the day, it was a way to maintain a woman as property. People seem to forget that. And then you have the religical nuts who maintain that God has a hand in all this, ummm, hi, in that case it's just sanctified fucking and let's us knock off with this pretense of trying to holy it up, shall we? Then there is this whole business of people putting more time, energy and attention in to the wedding than they do into the marriage. Why? Is it because it's a couple of multi-billion dollar a year businesses, weddings and divorces? And marriage is work, sometimes brutally hard work? It is hard to know.
08 June 2008
Meme A Roo
I stole this one from Shazza at Random :
Technology
Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Sharkbutt's baby picture
Q: How many televisions do you have in your house?
2
BIOLOGY
Q: Are you right handed or left handed?
Mainly right handed.
Q:Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
glass, teeth.
Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
My freezer
Q: Have you ever been knocked out?
Oddly, no I don't think so, even thought I fought for 20 odd years. So down yes, out no.
Bullshitology
Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No
Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
Hepzibah, no, not really
Q: What color do you think looks best on you?
Light blue, steel grey, cool colors.
Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
Are bugs considered non-food items? And I suppose teeth are non food items, and back when I enjoyed tequila the wormage.
Dareology
Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for 100 dollars?
Duh...I'd do it for free!
Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for 200,000$?
Oh hell no!
Q: Would you never blog again for 50,000$?
There will come a point when I tire of reading my nonsense and will not blog again for nothing. So sure.
Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for 1,000$?
Um, no, not ever.
Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for a million dollars?
there was a time when I thought my life would be incomplete without taking a couple of particular human lives for free, fortuitously that time has passed so unless it was a bizarre juncture of events where the taking of the life would alleviate that persons suffering, I'd have to decline.
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
Wallet, keys
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
I would not know
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Carpet
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
What is the point of showering if one is going to sit.
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
I don't think I own any, my feet are too effed up for flip flops.
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person who texted you?
My sister M.
Q: Last person who called you?
Stacy
Q: Last person you hugged?
My consigliere
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
23, 11, I like 'em odd.
Q: Season?
Fall
Q: Color?
Indigo
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
Stacy
Q: Mood?
Tired, Hungry, Blasphemous.
Q: Listening to?
Ceiling fan
Q: Worrying about?
Will these effing cats learn how to use the toilet.
Q: Wearing?
shorts, shirt, shades, dainties.
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
the truck
Q: What can you not wait to do?
if I don't have to wait I don't, If I have to wait, I wait. there's no can't.
Q: Do you smile often?
oh fuck no.
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Um, no, not even remotely, I'm a NJ native, who outposted for 4 years in Scranton so my friendliest mood is surly, my unfriendliest rabid. there's not much middle ground here.
Technology
Q: What is your wallpaper on your computer?
Sharkbutt's baby picture
Q: How many televisions do you have in your house?
2
BIOLOGY
Q: Are you right handed or left handed?
Mainly right handed.
Q:Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
glass, teeth.
Q: What is the last heavy item you lifted?
My freezer
Q: Have you ever been knocked out?
Oddly, no I don't think so, even thought I fought for 20 odd years. So down yes, out no.
Bullshitology
Q: If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No
Q: If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
Hepzibah, no, not really
Q: What color do you think looks best on you?
Light blue, steel grey, cool colors.
Q: Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
Are bugs considered non-food items? And I suppose teeth are non food items, and back when I enjoyed tequila the wormage.
Dareology
Q: Would you kiss a member of the same sex for 100 dollars?
Duh...I'd do it for free!
Q: Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for 200,000$?
Oh hell no!
Q: Would you never blog again for 50,000$?
There will come a point when I tire of reading my nonsense and will not blog again for nothing. So sure.
Q: Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for 1,000$?
Um, no, not ever.
Q: Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for a million dollars?
there was a time when I thought my life would be incomplete without taking a couple of particular human lives for free, fortuitously that time has passed so unless it was a bizarre juncture of events where the taking of the life would alleviate that persons suffering, I'd have to decline.
DUMBOLOGY
Q: What is in your left pocket?
Wallet, keys
Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
I would not know
Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Carpet
Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower?
What is the point of showering if one is going to sit.
Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
I don't think I own any, my feet are too effed up for flip flops.
LASTOLOGY
Q: Last person who texted you?
My sister M.
Q: Last person who called you?
Stacy
Q: Last person you hugged?
My consigliere
FAVORITOLOGY
Q: Number?
23, 11, I like 'em odd.
Q: Season?
Fall
Q: Color?
Indigo
CURRENTOLOGY
Q: Missing someone?
Stacy
Q: Mood?
Tired, Hungry, Blasphemous.
Q: Listening to?
Ceiling fan
Q: Worrying about?
Will these effing cats learn how to use the toilet.
Q: Wearing?
shorts, shirt, shades, dainties.
RANDOMOLOGY
Q: First place you went this morning?
the truck
Q: What can you not wait to do?
if I don't have to wait I don't, If I have to wait, I wait. there's no can't.
Q: Do you smile often?
oh fuck no.
Q: Are you a friendly person?
Um, no, not even remotely, I'm a NJ native, who outposted for 4 years in Scranton so my friendliest mood is surly, my unfriendliest rabid. there's not much middle ground here.
01 June 2008
More With the Doom!
Condi Rice meets Kiss
Yes, that KISS - 70's glam band extraordinaire. Perhaps it's time to start bending over and practice kissing our asses goodbye.
Yes, that KISS - 70's glam band extraordinaire. Perhaps it's time to start bending over and practice kissing our asses goodbye.
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