SKULL BASHING! DOOM! DESTRUCITON! ARGH!

For the most part, I like to think of myself as a pretty happy-go-lucky type of gal. On a fairly normal basis, this is probably how most of you see me...


But every once in a while, those sneaky little ovaries can start playing some terrific games with my head. It's quite possible for me to go from puppy dogs and kittens and sunshine and rainbows and unicorns and plump little midgets to complete nut ball in a matter of seconds.

This has been my day thus far...

Point A: Crying girl for no reason. Well, there was a reason, darn it. My Total cereal got way too soggy way too fast. It just didn't seem fair.


Point B: Anxiety sets in. I started thinking to myself 'Why do bad things always happen to me? Did I totally jack up my karma yesterday when I elbowed that little 13 year old girl out of the way to get my tickets to see 'Eclipse'? It wasn't my fault she fell down when I knocked into her and spilled her large popcorn. Why the hell does that fat little kid need a large popcorn anyway? Does she know how many calories are in that tub? Lard-ass- stupid- kid. Where are her parents? How could they let their kid eat like that? What's wrong with these people? What's wrong with this cereal? What's wrong with ME? What did I do? Why am I being punished???

Point C: Straight up nasty rage. There is no reasoning with me at this point. My cereal is soggy and it's probably someone's fault. Probably my boss' fault for not paying me more so I can buy better cereal. Or maybe my mom's fault because she suggested I buy light soy milk because it's healthier and what she probably meant was I look fat so I better start losing some weight otherwise I'm going to look like a freaking pig at my 10 year high school reunion next month and it's bad enough that I'm going without a date and I'll probably be single forever but it's really my parents who should be blamed for sticking me with the short end of the genetic stick. You know what? I'm going to call my mom RIGHT. NOW. and tell her exactly how much I appreciate my predisposition to eating fried food and weird looking little toes.

Point D: Rage magnifies exponentially. It's out of control at this point. My suggestion is you hide. Now. I'm probably plotting how I can murder you in your sleep and not get caught. Wait, fuck it. I don't care if I DO get caught.

Point E: RAGE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE! I'M GOING TO EAT YOUR FACE AND THEN POOP IT OUT ON YOUR MOM'S KITCHEN TABLE RAAAAAAAAAAAAGE! AND WHEN I'M DONE WITH THAT I'M GOING TO GO FIND A KITTEN AND KICK IT! AND THEN I'M GOING TO TRY ON SOME NEW JEANS AT THE MALL THAT WILL BE TO FUCKING TIGHT BECAUSE I'M FUUUUUCKING BLOATED AND I'M GOING TO TELL THAT SKINNY LITTLE BITCH OF A SALES ASSOCIATE EXACTLY WHERE SHE CAN STICK THAT STORE CREDIT CARD APPLICATION AND THEN GO EAST SOME CHOCOLATE IN A DARK ROOM BY MYSELF.

Point F: Just leave me alone with my fucking cereal already. Seriously. Just leave me alone.

I just popped 3 Midol and opened a bag of peanut butter m&m's. I'd still proceed with caution if I were you.