Thursday, May 01, 2008


I'm wound a little tight just now. Here's a brief overview of everything that's bugging me:

• I really do not trust -- and am not comfortable with -- one of the women I work with and I've been exposed to her too much lately. Leaves me feeling like Karen Silkwood. Give me the wire brush! I need a shower!

• I hate my fattitudinal fattiness.

• People are annoying and, as my oldest friend likes to say at times like this, "no damn good."

• The Cubs lost.

• It's still not Friday.

• I LIKED BROOKE! Why couldn't it have been Jason who went home?

• My best friend is at Jazz Fest in New Orleans, having fun, when he should be available to listen to me whine.

• I have never liked Madonna. Why is she staring out at me from all those magazine covers? Make her go away!

Yes, I'm PMS-ing. Draw your children closer. Lock your doors. No one is safe.

Come to think of it, even the fact that I still suffer PMS is bugging me!
Dammit! I'm 50! Fif-tee. Five-oh. Shouldn't this be behind by now? Instead of moodiness and edginess and a craving for peanut butter, shouldn't I be weepy and complaining about my hot flashes?