Grumble, grumble! Whatever Blogger was doing the other day, they didn't put this post back when they took so many recent posts off of various user's sites. I finally found it in the drafts folder and it's the *unedited* version. I'm not sitting here editing it again, so my apologies for any bloopers you might find. Also all the wonderful and entertaining comments that were left are gone too. So, I'm posting it again so those of you who read it can re-read and laugh, and those of you who haven't can get a good chuckle in your day.
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Okay, time for some therapeutic bitching.
Writers are somewhat neurotic. A female writer suffering PMS is called A Neurotic Blubbering Bitch on A Caffeine Sugar Buzz. I don’t brandish a weapon when I’m PMS’ing, but I sure as hell throw a lot of books, slam doors, and kick every farm chicken that crosses my path. Watch me walk into a room and see six kids and a husband scatter like cockroaches when a light’s flipped on.
The thing that really pisses me off is that when I get like this, I can’t write. It only lasts a day, maybe two, but if I force myself to write when I get in one of these moods I only type crap.
Men are baffled by the PMS Syndrome. What’s to be baffled about, really? I’m curious. A woman’s hormones go berserk inside her body, she screams, cries, and threatens to push the little red button if you piss her off just one more time. It has been proven that a woman’s brain swells during this time of the month, which causes erratic behavior and mood swings. I ask again: What’s so freaking hard to understand about PMS???
But the writer gal who’s in a foul, hormone-induced mood, who can’t write because of the foul hormone-induced mood, is the one to truly be wary of. She lies in wait of the unwary chicken to step out of the coop for a few choice bugs in the grass. WHAM! Said chicken is punted to the moon—or the nearest garage roof—and she scores!
Do not ask the writer gal what’s for lunch ninety-nine times from the safety of the living room. A can of Campbell’s Soup can reach you. With the proper angle and a good ricochet off the stovetop, said can of soup will nail your ass where you sit in the easy chair with your feet up as you watch yet another Spongebob Squarepants re-run.
Beware of the PMS’ing writer mom who can’t find the chocolate because one of her six kids has found and eaten it where she had it hidden in the tin on the top shelf behind Grandma Maggie’s good dishes. She will choose the most perfect moment to pounce. She will lace the next chocolate bar with habanera pepper and carefully wrap that lovely flavor bomb chocolate bar just like it was before, placing it in the tin for next time. Hoowee baby! Can we say fart fire?
And never ever—not even if you’re wearing armor AND a bullet proof vest—bother me when I’m trying to write while PMS’ing. It’s like signing your death certificate. Just ask the chickens. (So far, 47 out of 50 have the imprint of my Sketchers Shape-Ups sneaker treads on their feathery asses.) I’m in a foul mood as it is, my hormones are raging, the words aren’t working like they normally do, so that red crazed glint in my eyes and the appearance of hormonal fangs should tell you something, right? Right???
Last time I looked, two kids were hiding under the sofa, one was in the living room closet, two had gone upstairs to their rooms, and the oldest was swinging by the seat of his pants from the ceiling fan in the family room... Hey, he pissed me off over the chocolate. What can I say? It’s the PMS.
Writers are somewhat neurotic. A female writer suffering PMS is called A Neurotic Blubbering Bitch on A Caffeine Sugar Buzz. I don’t brandish a weapon when I’m PMS’ing, but I sure as hell throw a lot of books, slam doors, and kick every farm chicken that crosses my path. Watch me walk into a room and see six kids and a husband scatter like cockroaches when a light’s flipped on.
The thing that really pisses me off is that when I get like this, I can’t write. It only lasts a day, maybe two, but if I force myself to write when I get in one of these moods I only type crap.
Men are baffled by the PMS Syndrome. What’s to be baffled about, really? I’m curious. A woman’s hormones go berserk inside her body, she screams, cries, and threatens to push the little red button if you piss her off just one more time. It has been proven that a woman’s brain swells during this time of the month, which causes erratic behavior and mood swings. I ask again: What’s so freaking hard to understand about PMS???
But the writer gal who’s in a foul, hormone-induced mood, who can’t write because of the foul hormone-induced mood, is the one to truly be wary of. She lies in wait of the unwary chicken to step out of the coop for a few choice bugs in the grass. WHAM! Said chicken is punted to the moon—or the nearest garage roof—and she scores!
Do not ask the writer gal what’s for lunch ninety-nine times from the safety of the living room. A can of Campbell’s Soup can reach you. With the proper angle and a good ricochet off the stovetop, said can of soup will nail your ass where you sit in the easy chair with your feet up as you watch yet another Spongebob Squarepants re-run.
Beware of the PMS’ing writer mom who can’t find the chocolate because one of her six kids has found and eaten it where she had it hidden in the tin on the top shelf behind Grandma Maggie’s good dishes. She will choose the most perfect moment to pounce. She will lace the next chocolate bar with habanera pepper and carefully wrap that lovely flavor bomb chocolate bar just like it was before, placing it in the tin for next time. Hoowee baby! Can we say fart fire?
And never ever—not even if you’re wearing armor AND a bullet proof vest—bother me when I’m trying to write while PMS’ing. It’s like signing your death certificate. Just ask the chickens. (So far, 47 out of 50 have the imprint of my Sketchers Shape-Ups sneaker treads on their feathery asses.) I’m in a foul mood as it is, my hormones are raging, the words aren’t working like they normally do, so that red crazed glint in my eyes and the appearance of hormonal fangs should tell you something, right? Right???
Last time I looked, two kids were hiding under the sofa, one was in the living room closet, two had gone upstairs to their rooms, and the oldest was swinging by the seat of his pants from the ceiling fan in the family room... Hey, he pissed me off over the chocolate. What can I say? It’s the PMS.
Now for some publishing news. I'm running a Hot Summer Contest, so I hope you'll check it out at my site. Just click the contest tab. www.FaithBicknell.com
19 comments:
I absolutely love reading your blog. I am rolling right now. And you have always nailed it to the point. Thanks for sharing..Have a great day!!!
LOL! Glad I made you laugh today, Sharon!
Sounds like you're in a bad mood, Faith. LMAO
Hey, years ago my mom had hidden HER chocolate. Well, Daddy got into it. She never said a word. But the next time he did it? Oh yeah...but it wasn't pepper that got him.
Mama had subbed EXLAX for the Hershey's bar. Just put in four or five loose ones. Daddy was in the bathroom for two damn days.
She just shrugged and told him not to eff with her chocolate.
My kids say I permanently PMS and they are NOT afraid of me. The only thing that gets their attention and help are tears. When I cry they take notice. Go figure.
LMAO @ the Exlax! That sounds like something my mother would do!
Oh, I get you on the tears thing, I really do. That's the way my older three kids are too.
I feel you Faith, my kids did the same thing last time I was pmsing...but it was worse, I was eating the darn chocolate bar at my computer, go up to go to the bathroom came back and the whole freakin bar was gone. I got one square out of my Hershey's bar! Then when I asked them who took it, my daughters both outright lied to me and said their old brother did when the evidence was smeared all over their faces. If I had a ceiling fan in the living room both of then would've been hanging from it.
Great post. Thanks for the chuckles.
OMG, Dakota, if that had been me there would've been casualties of war lying all over the house!
*Leaves a chocolate bar and backs out quietly*
LMAO!!! All I can say is, I'm not alone! Woot!!!
You made my morning Faith, thank you!!!!
Ashley
HAHAHAHAHA, Faith! I was PMS'ing last week. It was, um, frightening. I snarled at Charlie and DD a few times. But, you know, if I tell you to stop doing something and you do it even though you know I've been a bit "tetchy," don't be surprised if I bite your head off. (g)
Ashley, all ladies can hang out here and know they're not alone, lol.
Why is it, Marci, that kids think when we're in PMS mode that it means to bug us even more? Luckily, tho, my hubby has enough sense to give me space during those times.
Great post, Faith!
I understand your pain-been there
However, is it fair to “burden” our loved ones, especially children, with our “PMSing?” Not that we have to always put a smiling face on when there is everything inside of us is screaming and kicking, but should we find a way to deal with it differently? If you think about it, PMSing behavior becomes like a pattern, and “legit” excuse for us to abuse, yes, abuse our significant ones. The same way, PMSing excuses expand, and now “stressful” job, “bad” mood, “awful” boss, “crazy” co-worker and so on become legal causes for our abusive behavior. For some reason, we believe that when we are “PMSing” – we do “suffer,” but everybody else in the world (who do not PMSing at the time) feel great, including our significant others, and therefore, should understand and take care of poor us. Guess what? This is not the case. Our husbands and children could have bad day at work or at school, “awful” boss, stressful job, pimple on the face (that, of course, is much more devastating than PMSing), and so on. From their point of view, they do suffer at the same moment you do, and as they do care about you (or they have to ), then they have to hide their emotion as they cannot share their “bad” day with you. The result? Broken trust for once. The rest, you can feel in the blank.
I am far from not taking PMSing seriously. Of course, any hormonal imbalance (which is PMS) are serious. But, there are ways to make it easier for ourselves and our loved ones. Some of those, are taking vitamins, watching your diet, plenty of water, exercise, walking, taking some time alone-try and see what works for you. Also, mindset – instead of concentrating on our “poor” selves, lets engage in the lives of our loved ones.
Hey, hope this doesn’t sound as preaching, as my intention was not to lecture or anything of that sort. Just wanted to share.
Nah, no worries, Erin. The post merely goes with the theme of rants and humor for 4SW. It's all in fun and not to be taken seriously. The chickens mentioned are all for slapstick laughs too.
HUH? @ EAslin
I have never abused anyone. Especially when PMSing. I've oftentimes been so ill I've had to drink tequila and go to bed, but not once have I ever abused anyone. Yes, I've been short tempered but that comes with the territory. No different than someone having a bad day at the office being stressed out. Except! I have an honest-to-god physical reason for being off-kilter. Stress from the office can be taken care of with some down time in front of the TV or a long, hot shower.
Vitamins don't fix PMS--neither does walking while bent over double. And the best time for a woman to take time for herself is definitely when she is PMSing--but then that would mean she is concentrating on herself, wouldn't it? And we can't concentrate on ourselves now can we? No, we must be considerate of the wants and needs of everyone around us.
Faith, your comedic take on PMS was most certainly not lost on me. Cracked me up if I failed to mention that earlier. And btw, I'm PMSing.
Aw, thanks, Tess. The post was a way for me to relieve stress and it helped. I've received mail from readers, too, stating that it's nice to know other women feel the same way and how much a good laugh helped them today.
As for vitamins, the only ones that have ever worked for me period wise are the Bs. They're good for getting a gal started if she's late due to mother nature just being contrary. Other than that, vitamins don't do much but make me sick or rev me up, lol.
Hell, we all need prozac two weeks out of the damn month!
HAHAHA Cute. I can't write when I have PMA because I end killing off important characters. Then next week they don't seem so bad. LOL
HAHAHAHAHA, Anonymous. Some characters need killing. (g)
LOL, I've done that to a coupla my characters! I ended up going back and putting them in the story like they were.
However, I have put an ex-husband or two in my books and made them the villains who got their comeuppances.
Well, that just sucks, Faith. I was trying to upload photos today, and Blogger kept kicking them out. I had to upload them twice.
I didn't mention this last time, but I once had a young guy tell me that cramps were all in a woman's head. I asked him if he'd mind if I stuck my hand in his guts and twisted. You know, that would be all in his head, right? So, it couldn't possibly hurt. (g)
I once had an OBGYN who said labor and child birth wasn't painful. The nurses seemed to really hate him too, lol.
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