Right now I sit atop an enormous ass zit, a bloated ball of swollen and hate. My face is full. My lips push outward from the puffiness and my chin is dangling in my lap. My skin feels like that of an overfilled water balloon and I can barely type around my boobs.

The cramps aren’t here yet. I am bracing for those through gritted teeth and quick-ready tears.

This morning I woke up to the prospect of dragging all my laundry to the laundromat and felt instantly suicidal. The VCB urged that we should go–hell, he’d even do all the laundry–if only because he’s down to his last pair of underwear.* The self-imposed, two-hour guilt trip that would come with his doing my laundry would eat me inside out, so I just whined and pouted and stared at the ceiling as he patiently tried to work something out for us. And for his soon-to-be unclothed bum.

I cried. I said things like, “I want to punch you in the face. A bunch of times.” I decided on screaming for as loud as I could for as long as I could, but decided getting arrested might not be the best way to overcome my irritability. But I was tempted. I was oh so close.

It’s CRAZY how crazy I get three days a month. Maaaan. I feel like I talk about it all the time here on the weblog, but fuck! Sometimes I just have to bitch and scream and if I have a couple hundred people to sound off to then I feel somehow justified in all my senseless ranting. Not that I care what any of you assholes think right now.**

Speaking of assholes. Certain people are using the comments atattched to each post to harrass and belittle me, offering up advice on how to better my writing when I don’t remember having asked what they thought. I think some posts on this weblog generate intelligent, funny and often engaging discussion, and for those posts comments will remain open. However on other shorter posts, or the ficiton posts, or on more personal essay-type stuff I think it’s wise to leave the comments closed. I welcome openly valid critcisms and ideas and the like, but perhaps if your criticism is solely negative then that (unsolicited) critique might be better suited for email. Or not at all. Posts like this one though where I’m basically letter writing to the reader will definitely have comments open and I encourage them wholeheartedly. Just tightening things up before they get out of hand and I have to start issuing some fucking beatings. The VCB saw my fists of fury this morning (see below) and he can attest they are quick, precise and mighty.

Tonight I will be taking my cans of food to MTSU to see my buddies Jay and Mike (of Apollo Up) and Jeremy (of Mercator) play a fancy-pants gig with Matt Sharp. I’m going to bring my camera along if the big rockin’ stars allow it and maybe kick another photo gallery over there on the left.

The VCB will be back soon from buying new underwear and some lunch. And if he’s smart some head gear.

*Sorry to talk about your panties, sweetie, on the blog. It was write honestly or resume punching that pillow, and since I jumped the gun last time and nearly socked your pretty nose, perhaps it’s best I hash out my emotions in this manner. I thought you’d understand.

**I kid, I kid. Though, honestly, I’d like you more if you were in front of me with a Valium and some chocolate.