Maybe this belongs in the Pit. I don’t know. I don’t know much of anything right now.
Our power went out very early this morning, like around 2:30 am. It came back on, but as a result, my alarm clock didn’t go off. I called in to work to tell them I’d be late.
Well, My Friend came to visit today.
I don’t normally call in to work due to PMS/menstrual problems. It’s not usually so bad I can’t cope. But I’ve got bad cramps and a queasy stomach, so I decided to stay home, instead of going in late.
I picked up the phone to call work, and I could not remember my work phone number. The number that I called just a few hours earlier.
My husband was not home at the time. The number I call to reach actual humans at work is not listed in the phone book. I had to wait until my husband got home to ask him what the phone number is. He told me. I dialed it wrong. I asked him again. He told me again. I dialed it wrong again. I asked him again. He told me again, then said “is it that bad, honey? Maybe you should lay down.”
I’ve never heard air-headedness being attributed to PMS before. Not that I don’t believe you of course, it’s just a new one on me. My special PMS syptom is bursting into tears for no reason. So if it was me telling that story, I would have got to the part where I decided to call in sick and realized I couldn’t remember the number, then burst into tears and went on an hour-long crying jag.
I swear this has been the crappiest week, for the same reason as your crappy morning, plus a few more. I really needed that laugh.
Monday I got no sleep all day (work nights) because of phone calls, insomnia, stomach pain, thunder and lightning and all kinds of other crap. So it finally gets quiet, I doze off and neighbor comes out to weed-eat his lawn. Now I LIKE this neighbor. And he has every right to weed-eat at 7pm. However, I was so strung-out, emotional, and crabby that I ranted and raved and told hubby that neighbor was going to end up with a weed-eater up his ASS if he didn’t go the HELL away…and so on and so forth. Hubby thought that was pretty funny. Damn him.
How DARE you mention sex to me at a time like this! I’m bloated, crampy, irritable & hungry! My clothes don’t fit right, and I can’t find my car keys. There’s nothing on TV, and the dishes need washing!
:::dissolving into uncontrollable sobbing:::
All this horrible stuff going on, and YOU bring up SEX. How could you? You insensitive weenie.
Hah! I don’t have PMS, no siree! ::Swiddles stops, considers the second bowl of frozen banana/chocolate frozen yogurt she just HAD to have because it was SO FREAKIN’ GOOD, and looks at the calendar::
SaintZero, we could always nuke Massachusetts. Except for Ted Kennedy not being able to appear on CNN every night it could be years before anyone noticed…
Apologies to you, Persephone. I wasn’t trying to take your PMS rant into a MPSIMS party. But you said it yourself – you started one of these things LAST month. It’s kind of like crying wolf, or listening to Clinton deny that he had sex with Monica – we get immune.
Besides, if the symptoms were THAT bad you’d have stated, “I’m bloated, crampy, irritable & hungry! My car does’t fit right, and I can’t find my clothes. There’s no dishes on the TV, and the damned thing needs washing!”
At which point I’m going to help Saintzero find the nukes!
::: rips SouthernStyle’s arms off and beats him viciously about the head and shoulders with them :::
Don’t mess with Sunshine on PMS. My first insticnt is to sob violently over tiny things. Example:
Mr. Sunshine: (sitting down to dinner) Oh, sweetie…you forgot to put out the butter.
Me: WAAAHH! Why do you criticize EVERYTHING I do? (runs from room)
My second instinct, if I can stop crying long enough, is to destroy/maim/hurt things or people. Usually I can supress this one (for the safety of Mr. Sunshine). Continuation of previous example:
Me: (coming back in to room) What’s the matter with you? Why can’t you be supportive?! (throwing salt shaker)
Mr. Sunshine: (eating silently, fends of salt shaker with left hand while hoisting fork with the right.)
Me: (looking around for more stuff to throw or break)
Definitely for a few days each month I am a completely different person.
SouthernStyle: It’s not really crying wolf. See, last month I didn’t forget my work phone number. This month, I did. This month, I also forgot that I had started a PMS thread last month. Last month’s symptoms were different! So there!
And you can turn this in to a party if you want to–the real beauty of PMS is that while it can sometimes be difficult to live with, it’s usually pretty easy to laugh with. If I didn’t want you to point & laugh, I’d have never shared my out-of-body-experience-intensity-forgetfulness.
Sunshine: Classic PMS! Especially since Mr. Sunshine so rudely demanded that you give him butter now, and you went to the kitchen for the butter, and returned with the salt shaker. You go, girl!
I guess I’m an anomally. I’m 39, and I don’t think I’ve ever had PMS. Even my periods are no big deal. 2, 2 1/2 days and it’s dome. Occasionally cramps, not usually.
Being a guy, (Unlike Duck Duck Goose I’ll fess up from the beginning ), I obviously have no first hand experience with PMS. Everything I know is second hand (or in Sunshine’s case, back hand).
A violent person doesn’t bother me, though a violent woman would scare me bunches more than a violent man. (I’m a big guy. Big guys don’t usually have tendencies toward violence. LITLLE men are an entirely different problem, but easily dispatched. And I’ve been on the receiving end of a couple of violent women. They don’t fight fair!)
I laugh at the PMS stuff because I don’t understand it. I’ve never even had a girlfriend that suffered severe PMS. Mrs. SS has only moderate PMS. It’s a good thing too, cause I’m one of those people that is disgustingly healthy and doesn’t have much patience with sick people.
How in the heck did I ever let this get SERIOUS???
Uh, Persephone, if a blowjob won’t help you out, perhaps you could help out some guy that has to endure your plight?
:: heading for North Dakota – noone will waste a Nuke there ::
