i might bludgeon my husband. seriously.

he's doing that thing where he makes me feel like we live in an uber-lame-o sitcom like Everybody Loves Raymond or something. [I think you guys are more "Mork & Mindy"--said with much affection and a hazy memory]

he's in the living room watching a horror movie (i despise horror movies.) and i am trying my very best to enjoy non-killing (tv or real life) internet time alone because i already know that i have PMS symptoms and i need to be put on self-imposed lockdown in order to at least make a futile attempt at avoiding complete and utter bitchitude. FAIL. so i'm back here minding my own business reading other people's business and he keeps coming back here... to see what i'm doing... to tell me how is effing stomach hurts.... and then he's back again in five minutes to tell me he's decided the culprit is the cheese he put on his sandwich.... and then he's back again in five minutes to tell me that if he doesn't feel better before we go to a friend's house in a little while that he doesn't think he'll be drinking tonight.... and then he's back to tell me the dog peed on the rug! and i cannot. take. it. any. more. and i finally break into bitchitude and throw up my hands and ask if he came back here just to update me (cause i really don't need a fucking update!) or if he's informing me so that *i* will go and clean it up..... and then he gets all doe eyed and put-out at the same time and is like "why are you so snappy?!"

here's why i'm snappy folks:

PMS sucks. mine does fo' sho. and what sucks more than that is when you have baby-makin on the brain and your PMS symptoms are eerily similar to pregnancy symptoms:

• tender breasts
• fatigue
• IRRITABILITY
• food cravings
• skin breakouts
• bloating
• constipation
• ... etc - you get it

(mother nature: i love you most of the time, i really do. but right now you can just go suck a lemon. that is all.)

it's all too easy to say you are going to be logical and not convince yourself of the near impossible but daaay-um if that's not, well, nearly impossible. i know i'm not preggers. i know it's PMS. and yes, i'm snappy.

deal with it.

i have to.

EDIT: i am not even kidding you. he just came in here to tell me the movie is over and that it was dumb.... and that his stomach still hurts.

i didn't kill him. i deserve a medal.