I’ve really been a shitty blogger friend, so preoccupied, distant, and unreliable. Like congress.
I know, I’m an asshole like that sometimes, just ask my real friends. I do apologize.
Ever get in a funk, and you don’t even know why but you can’t seem to get yourself out of it? Where everything is annoying-I’m too tired-I’m too restless-I’m too hot-I’m too cold-I’m too hungry-I’m too full-I’m too fucking annoyed of myself being annoyed?
Hello, my name is Tracy.
You don’t have to be an owl in a graduation cap to figure out that it’s almost time for my monthly cyclical visit from Aunt Flo. I hate it when she visits, it’s all about her, and her happy-one-minute-crying-the-next attitude. She eats me out of house and home, complains about everything, and swallows up all of my Motrin. To add insult to injury, she stresses me out so much that my face breaks out like I’m a teenager, makes my pants too tight, causes my armpits to sweat more than a glass of iced lemonade on a hot summers day, and occasionally ruins my sheets.
Needless to say she wreaks havoc on my life for the week she’s here, and I hate her.
So perhaps I’ll blame her for the fact that I become psychotic when I step on a fucking teeny tiny lego piece in my bare feet before I’ve had my morning coffee. Or for feeling like I may have an aneurism if my boyfriend wears the wrong shirt.
And by the way, never, ever, ever buy a yellow lab. Why you ask? Because you will be cleaning up dog hair with homicidal contempt for the rest of your life. It will wind up in places you never knew existed, and you’d have an easier time getting rid of HPV.
I’m a real joy to be around, If I could bring myself to punch myself in the neck I would.
My room mates, and by room mates I mean children, can make high-pitched squeals and babble and scream so loud in the car, that it renders anyone within 1/8th of a mile radius temporarily deaf. They did this in the car today and I nearly ran off the road into a tree. Tears just started running down my face, as my ears bled.
The week before my period, I should be sequestered/quarantined from everyone. I become a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, in irritation, tears, anger or frustration. It is fucking horrible, and ladies, if you get this too then you know what havoc it wreaks on your life. Everyone thinks you’ve gone crazy, and even though you know it’s happening, you have no way of stopping it…the estrogen train has left the station and you are fucked.
And here I am. Hooray for you lucky readers!
You know what I really love? When someone offers unsolicited advice, such as, “you know what I find really helps with my period? Exercise!”
That’s funny, because you know what I find really helps with my period? Laying in the fetal position with a pizza in a puddle of my own tears.