girl-talk

Ok, guys, time for a little girl-talk, so you just take a little stroll down this aisle, or this one, whichever tickles your fancy. Come back in five minutes.

Are they gone?

I think there are the basic four undesirable PMS symptoms: Fat, Acne, Crabby, and Just Gross Feeling. Actually, some people get headaches too, but I never do. Anyway, usually I just go with one or two of these. This time - all FOUR! I'm thinkin' I've put on about five pounds, my face looks like I'm about fourteen, I'm "just a tad" snippy, and I seem to have a thin coating of slime on my skin that no one can see but that I can feel. It's about once a year that an onslaught like this happens, plus I'm coughing up a lung from what looks like bronchitis, so me not so happy. Oh, and I'm late too; so the joy can prolong itself.

I know, TMI, TMI. Shuddup already. But I do feel better just telling someone. Not, you understand, better enough to not sob, bite PHF's head off, and then run screaming to my room and slam the door the next time he makes one of his kind "suggestions"; but better enough to keep from screaming at my children. Of course, PHF won't be able to unintentionally offend me until late this afternoon, since he went SKIING on all the 24-HOUR-OLD POWDER with his buddies today. But that's ok, my irritation will keep.

And if any of you guys stayed around for this discussion instead of heading off to one of the more appropriate venues provided by your hostess here at SS@S and got subsequently turned off/grossed out; well that's too fuckin' bad, buddy. I got one image for ya (kindly provided by so many of yourselves): you all jackin' off in the shower. Yeah, that's right. You guys love to talk about masturbation like it's the sexiest damn thing, but, if ya didn't know, it's NOT the turn-on you think it is.

Oooh, now see, that would be the crabbiness rearing its ugly head. So solly.

Plus it's fucking cloudy! It'll probably snoooow over the mountains again. I'm so happy for all the skiers out there.

I'd go back to bed, but then I start coughing again, and I already woke up at four am to have a good worry over my kid doing drugs when she's sixteen. (She's three - plenty of time for procrastination in that department.) Besides, I want to chat with someone, and I'm hoarse, so I can't talk to anyone here. They all raise a hand and their upper lips and go, "No, no, you don't have to talk. It's ok."

I stayed up late (in hopes of sleeping late - but I got a goodbye kiss from PHF at 7 am and I rarely go back to sleep once I wake up) watching Gladiator. I liked it. Now it was on TNT, so I'm sure I missed some of the gratuitous violence, and there wasn't nearly enough skin in it to satisfy me (I'm going to set aside some time for Troy in the next few days). But then, Russel Crowe always looks a bit like a guy who had been working out steadily for a year but quit two months ago to drink beer instead. He's just not cut, not shapely, like your friend and mine, Brad. And his face is so... eh. But his lack of expression (is it too much Botox or is he just kinda dumb? I dunno) served him well for this role. Hare-lip, who played the Caesar's son, was excellent. What a great whinging psycho. I'd say he should be typecast as one from now on. I also liked the scar-face guy who tried to help Maximus. Does he really look like that or was that incredible make-up? The only truly stupid part was all the dream/dying sequences where he's floating around and sees his family. Now that was d-u-m, dumb. They could have just skipped it you know. Wasn't it enough when the princess said, "Go and see your family now." ??

Oops, did I just ruin it for anyone? I'd apologize if I weren't too crabby to care, but I am.

I can't really recall my history in this - did it happen anything remotely like this? Probably not. I seem to remember that the guy who followed Marcus Aurelius was a bumbler, but I'm going to poke around online and find out. Sounds about right for a sick, PMS-y Sunday afternoon.