I have PMS and a gun. Any questions???

Sorry I dropped off the map for the past few day's. I was busy trying REALLY hard to control my inner bitch since I have been suffering from PMS!!! Its pretty draining when you are trying to curb your desire to destroy everything in your path all the while a sick little boy is clinging on to you tugging at your heart strings, then you have your other children practically begging you to teach them why it is animals eat their young, and then there's the husband... Then one who got you in this fucking mess in the first place with the kids and the house and the constant teasing asking you if you want any Midol... The make believe CURE IT ALL when it comes to PMS!!!!! The stupid pill that goes in one end and and gets pissed out never having "cured" or let alone eased ANY of my fucking symptoms during its brief stay in my body. TAUNTING ME every time with it's stupid label that it will "help" with the bloating and the back aches and the fatigue and the cramps- FUCK YOU, YOU STUPID LYING LITTLE PILL!!!

I swear Midol was made by a man because if it was made by a woman you would have to scan your drivers license, show proof of age, sign a waiver and pick it up at the pharmacy counter because it would contain some sort of mixture of ibuprofen, percoset, morphine, and valium!!! Take two and wash it down with a shot of tequila and call it a week!!! EVERYBODY WINS!!! The drug company wins because they will be selling that shit like candy, the husbands win because they're not in danger of getting their wangs whacked off because their wife is on the rampage, kids win because they won't have their mothers breathing down their necks because they forgot how much their mom HATES it when they pop the fucking collar to their school uniform and most importantly THE WOMEN win because they don't have do deal with mood swings, back aches, cramps and annoying people you are not allowed to beat the shit out of because if you did, you would get 20 to life for aggravated assult, attempted murder, failure to co-operate with law enforcement, oh, and for threatening the judge for offering you a fucking Midol when he gets wind that you are suffering for PMS!!! Instead, it's La-La Land for 5-7 day's!!! Just slap a Depends on my ass, check on me every 6-12 hours, roll me over every once in a while so I don't get bed sores and LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALOOOOOOOOOONE!!!!

It's so damn irritating. For YEARS every damn month you look down and think
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? GREAT. MY CROTCH IS BLEEDING "AGAAAAAAAAAIN"!!!!!"

Then you go to the bathroom and it's like a murder scene!!! I feel like I need to call HBO's Dexter in and ask him to tell me what he can about the blood splatter pattern in the shower. Then there's the constant changing of the pads or the tampons. Yeah, as if constantly unfolding and peeling off a stupid sticker off a miniature diaper that fits in the "contour" of your panties is going to make it all better. As if shoving a giant Qtip up your crotch every 8 hours or less because your affraid of getting Toxic Shock Syndrome is going to make it all go away. You want me to be in a good fucking mood while ragging??? Someone invent a freaking tampon that vibrates- THEN we'll talk!!!!!

Then comes the clean up. We ALL have woken up and realized HOLY SHIT, I HAVE TO CHANGE THE SHEETS BEFORE ____ FINDS OUT!!! Then you change the sheets, bleach them, Clorox 2 them and even OXY CLEAN the shit outta them but, OH, WAIT, I got some on the fucking mattress!!! REALLY!!!??? I already feel like i'm in some remote farm in Mexico cleaning all my underthings in the fucking sink so it doesn't "GET MIXED IN" with the "normal" clothes...

Fuck. me. in. the. eye...

WHY AM I GETTING INTO SO MUCH DETAIL??? So you can show this to your beloved husband/boyfriend/man in your life. Fuck it, show your dad if you are still living at home!!! They always give us shit about our "time of the month" and most people are too damn shy to talk about it with them. Uh... just leave this page open on the computer, leave a barf bag on the chair and walk away... So the next time they ask you if you want some fucking Midol or say "WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL? YOU SHOULD BE USED TO IT BY NOW SHOULDN'T YOU!?" ....

FUCK. YOU.... the end.