Barring getting your eyes gouged out by a rabid dingo, there’s really nothing quite like PMS. Most of us that suffer from it are delighted to tell you how we would rather die a thousand deaths than have to live through it. Some of us turn into royal bitches, some of us weep during cat food commercials, and then there are those of us that will eat the world.
You’ll all be shocked to read that I am one of those poor bitches that not only weeps when cats jump over rainbows, but that has a bottomless pit right around the time that I’m getting my period. Poor Depeche Mode and Boom Boom were witnesses to such events on Friday night. That night, I ate dinner for four. Seriously, for four grown adults. I ate:
- 1 plain quesadilla
- 4 chicken fajita quesadillas
- 2 Kosher hotdogs (complete with the rolls and condiments)
- an entire bottle of wine.
All by myself. I was about to start eating a third hotdog when Depeche Mode was kind enough to tear it out of my hands. Frankly, he’s lucky that he managed to rip his hands away from his mouth with all of his fingers intact. Meanwhile, Boom Boom, who had enjoyed her own bottle of wine and insisted (more like slurred) that she wasn’t drunk, yelled at Depeche Mode for taking away my food. He said he was trying to save my hips.
Now there’s a true friend right there. Someone willing to risk their own limbs to save my fat ass hips.