I for some reason had it in my brain that I was still at least a week or two away from my next cycle of woman fertility goodness (
but not really). However, I looked at my Google calendar today and realized that I am actually ensconced (
?) in full-blown PMS mode. Which would explain my sitting on the couch for the entirety of last night cocooned in my trusted purple comforter-of-childhood watching television and almost literally
growling at Schmoobs' every single attempt to speak, joke, or even make eye contact with me. Yikes. Sorry, Schmoobliedoobliedoos. Also, I am slowly feeling the onset of the Monthly Backache of Doom. Which is never fun. But at least I don't get cramps, right? Also, I am having an intense craving for a bowl of frosted flakes in ice cold soy milk mixed with sliced strawberries and bananas. Hey, that's a new one. Usually I crave only anything and everything that can be obtained by going through a fast food drive-thru window. Well, I guess I did eat some leftover Panda Express (
ick) and two Jack in the Crack eggrolls (
double ick) for lunch today. Criminy. According to all rules of basic human physiology, I should literally be a giant walking curly fry by now. *
pause for fantasy sequence involving giant curly fry Ysabel* Mmm.....if only.
In other news, Schmoobs brought dinner home from the grocery store, along with a 24-can box of diet
Crack Coke. He called to ask me what I wanted to eat and I replied, "I don't care. I'll eat anything...as long as it comes with a diet Coke." (
Oh, PMS. You're so charming.) I had laid the box in the fridge and was attempting to tear along the perforated line that would allow for easy access through one lip of the box, when the bottom of the box suddenly gave out. This, obviously, caused the first can to slip out and drop to the floor. "Damni--" I muttered. But before I could finish, a second can fell. Then a third. The next one fell, smacking my right ring finger against the floor, as I was trying to pick up these shaken-up cans of carbonated death and I yelled "AAUGH!" Two seconds later, Schmoobs ran into the kitchen to find me sitting in a pathetic heap on the kitchen floor surrounded by 24 bruised and dented precious cans of soda. My pathetic PMS-ing self just sat there, finger red and throbbig, fuming at all the potential exploding aluminum grenades all around me. Schmoobs just kind of giggled to himself. I said defeatedly, "Oh man! Now they're all going to explode..." So he picked up two cans, said, "Not these two!" and bravely opened them up gingerly over the kitchen sink. And this, my friends, after giving him the cold shoulder for hours and hours last night, is why I love my Schmoobliedoos.
Also: he loves diet Coke even more than I do.
***
ps. It occurred to me as I sat on the pisser in my apartment at 6pm this evening that that was the first time I had peed all day. After I had had 3 shots of espresso and a bottle of water in the morning. Is that weird? I mean, it is, isn't it? Usually, after more than two cups of coffee, I'm peeing every twenty minutes. Hm. Just thought I'd put that out there.
pps. Confession: I have a wickedly horrible memory for words and literally had to Google the terms "soda fizz" and "soda bubbles" in order to think of the word "carbonated." Yeesh. Time to go back to grad school, methinks.
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