My Chassis is Chapped

The title really has nothing to do with this post but I actually uttered this exact phrase earlier and couldn't leave it there.

So here we go again...I clued in to the upcoming festivities after I nearly wrestled a burger from my son yesterday.  It was quite a strong hint because never ever have I coveted a burger before.  I couldn't stop looking at it.  The smell was intoxicating.  And I generally can take or leave a burger.  Yesterday though, I would've traded my first born for that delicious Burger King sandwich.

Then today I experienced mood swings like no other.  I've always been a little prone to the odd mood swing.  Those of you who know me will not believe this, but yes, yes, it's true.  I can be a little up and down.  On top of that I'm not sleeping well this week and I am so bloated that even if I didn't love an elastic-waisted pant I would have no choice but to wear one anyway.

Point is: I'm hot.

I left my husband a special incoherent message on his cell phone today.  I couldn't reach him due to some charging issue with his phone.  This was driving me beyond any point of rational thought and to top it off I hit my head on my vehicle while I was getting out and I had my sunglasses on my head because for some reason I think I'm fucking Malibu Barbie, and friends, if you didn't know, it really hurts when you hit your head on something and your sunglasses cut into your head.

This prompted me to shout "Fuck!", throw my sunglasses and then yell at my two teen aged children who were with me to "Just go".  We were in the mall parking lot.  What did they do to incur some of my pre-menopausal wrath?   They were smirking.  They were smirking in unison.  Most of their lives is spent strongly disliking one another but at that very point in time, they were unified in their amusement at my crazy ass antics.  And whilst hormonal?  This does not please Mama.

And all of this took place without me realizing I had failed to hang up the phone after trying to call Ryan for the sixth time today to see if he could pick up the little boys from daycare. 

Psychotic.

So I caught up to the kids in the mall, basically refused to talk to them and we went our separate ways.  After a brief bit of shopping we decided to get some cookies.  We went to Cookies By George and bought 8 cookies, a bottle of water and two 500 ml cartons of milk, one white and one chocolate.  The nice Asian man was very polite while serving us.  As we walked away to our table I couldn't help but wonder what he thought of this woman and her children.  Eight cookies in a take out bag but did we take them out? No.  We found a table and ate six of the cookies right then and there.  The other two were for the little boys.  We ate our cookies and drank our milk and carried on.

And guess what?  Apparently cookies and milk is some sort of happiness elixir for a premenopausal Mama and her at times, difficult and annoying, teenagers.  We left the mall parking lot about twenty minutes later full of giggles wholeheartedly singing along to "Forget You" by Cee-Lo.

More shopping ensued, as well as a trip to Wendy's.  None of these choices are helping with the bloat and I currently feel like and resemble a woman with child.  Just early on, you know maybe three to four months. 

Dead sexy.

And now it's time for bed.  Where I will no doubt have zero difficulty falling asleep but will dream absurd dreams the entire night and toss and turn and wake up all the bitchier tomorrow morning. 

Who am I kidding?  Before bed there will be chocolate and more milk.  Apparently this month's poison is burgers, chocolate and milk.  Times like these I'd give anything to be a man.  If you have an itch, you scratch it.  If it needs adjusting, you adjust it.  Never ever does having a penis mean at some point in your life you will be miserable just because you have one.  It will not cause bloating.  Or mood swings.  In fact, from what I can tell, and remember I have a husband (my second one at that) and three boys; what I know is from firsthand observation and penises seems to be a pretty consistent source of amusement, pride and good feelings.

Fuck it.

Got Milk?

Losing My Edge

So as much as I purport to have quite a 'mean streak', if you will, lately I have been losing my edge.  Hormones are to blame.  For example, the other day I was running somewhat late on my way to work and so I inadvertently cut off a woman on my commute.  I honestly thought I had time and the room to pass her.  I did not.  She expressed her displeasure a number of times.  When I caught her face in the side mirror I apologized to which she responded with a raised middle finger.  I again said I was sorry but her finger remained raised.  I then responded in kind. I continued on my way to work and watched as this car followed me.  As my husband had been followed by a road raging lunatic the previous Monday I hoped the same wasn't happening to me.  The exception being she was justified in her anger.  Which only made it worse if she was following me.

Guess what?  She is actually one of my new co-workers.  Isn't that super?!

I parked a few cars away from her and high-tailed it into the building.  Trying to look un-bothered as I sped walked.

Then she accosted me once inside. She advised it would be wiser and safer for me to have more patience on the road.  She was pissed.  I apologized.  She wasn't having any of it.  We went our separate ways.

However I could not shake it.  This is a new job.  This is not the first impression I was hoping to make.  I had visions of her spreading the word about the new dumb ass bad driver stupid bitch at work.

So I waited until my co-worker was busy and phoned said woman to attempt damage control.  I was more than worried. So I called and made a more sincere apology and offered to buy said woman a cup of coffee.  She assured me we were "good" now and the coffee would not be necessary.  So I hung up, feeling marginally better, and here it is, practically bawling.

Gah!

I watched as my co-worker returned and 101 explanations and excuses raced through my mind as how I would justify my big watery eyes and red nose. 

I know, loser.

Luckily I gained composure quickly and she was otherwise occupied so I did not have to explain anything.

Were the oh-so-special-est time of the month of all not approaching?  I likely would have had the same concerns but a) would have kept the tears at bay and b) likely would've been more angry with her initial rejection of my apology.

Instead I was a a giant pussy.

No pun intended.

And tonight I teared up watching America's Funniest Home Videos. Again.  These people surprised their little boy with a trip to Disneyland.  Too much for my hormonal ass to cope with, apparently.

Sigh. This sucks.

I much prefer angry me.  Sad me is pathetic.  Pathetic, bloated and full of chips.

Did I mention attractive?