I'm crouching on the roof with an AK47...

... Ok, I'm not really. But I'm pretty damn close....

I am however trying to figure out which would get me a longer jail sentence: beating my coworker to death with a stapler, or beating him to death with an innocuous (yet surprisingly heavy) calculator.

And what has he done wrong? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Except use his God-given right to express himself. I have been listening to him bollock on inanely about nothing to anyone who will listen for about an hour now, and if I hear one more syllable out of that man's mouth I am going to launch myself across my desk and strangle him with his elegant and probably very expensive tie, before utilizing the stapler or the calculator to bring him to a swift demise. I haven't decided which yet.

He is a really nice guy. He and I have always got on very, very well. Up until today, I probably could have listed him in my top five favorite people in the office. What changed? Me.

Heretofore, the blog has been about my disasters with the dating world. Today, we take a giant leap into other territory. Having not 'blogged' (gag) for about a week now, I have discovered that writing is essential for my mental health. It is inordinately cheaper than a therapist, and I can tell by the look in my friend's eyes after they have read it whether I need to up my Xanax, so it's a good mood indicator too. So, I have decided to expand the blog (heave) into general rants and raves. And all writers on all topics are welcome to join me!

So today, I am experiencing PMS for the first time in 7 years. SEVEN YEARS. And right now, I think I make Charlie Manson look pretty well-adjusted. Charlie Manson is a goddamned tea party comparatively. Apparently, it is really bad for your body to be on the depo shot for more than 5 years. I was on it for 7. And while I was on it, it took away all the monthly physical and emotional crap in addition to the compulsive banana-and-mayo sandwich-eating. And then I came off it. And now it's all  back. With a vengeance. And a chip on its shoulder.

I had no idea when it was going to happen, so I could not prepare myself. Nor could I arm people around me with a rope and a taser for their own safety. It does, however, explain why I have been stuffing down MacDonald's like a starving pelican (and I can't stand MacDonald's) for the last couple of days, and why Chocolate Digestive biscuits with Branston Pickle seemed like a good idea at 2 O'clock this morning. My emotions are riding their very own rollercoaster without the safety bar, and they change from minute to minute. My PMS is schizophrenic. One minute, the urge to giggle is so overwhelming that I have to stuff my fist in my mouth, and the next minute I want to decapitate a coworker. The funniest thing is when I Googled 'PMS', the following symptoms were listed...

•Anxiety or panic
•Confusion
•Difficulty concentrating
•Forgetfulness
•Poor judgment
•Irritability, hostility, or aggressive behavior
•Fatigue
•Decreased self-image
•Paranoia or increased fears
•Low self-esteem

Ummmm... Now I am totally confused. These aren't symptoms of PMS - this is me everyday. Crap. Do I suffer from permanent PMS and I just never noticed? Actually, I am not usually irritable, hostile, or aggressive... unless I am on the Basketball court, and even then I'm aggressive in a very British,  "I'm sorry old chap, did my elbow meet your solar plexus? Please forgive me" kind of way. But the rest of it... check, check, and check. Shit. Time to up the Xanax...

And apparently, I have been doing everything wrong to alleviate PMS symptoms...

Whoops a Daisies. So, the lovely lady in the white coat is saying that mainlining Starbucks, smoking like a spontaneous combustion victim and snarfing Big Macs doesn't help? Well dammit, I've been doing this all wrong. And to be honest, I am probably going to continue to, because they don't serve tomatoes through a fast food window, and me with PMS and nicotine withdrawal would probably be the end of the world as we know it.

Now I'm off to place a ridiculously large order with Quiznos. All for me.

And now a video for your entertainment. This made me laugh. Then cry. Then throw shit at the mailman.



Molly, out.