Meltdown in 3...2...1

Every time I'm in a perfectly good mood, I come home and these people screw it up. Is a clean house too much to ask for? If I can see the pizza box on the floor, why can't you? I don't get. Am I missing something? Did everybody in this household go blind when I wasn't looking?

And if my cell phone doesn't stop freakin' ringing with some idiot on the other line who can't possibly wipe his ass without my help, I'm going to scream! Stop calling me! Stop calling me! STOP FUCKING CALLING ME!

Uh oh. There's that sharp pain in my head again.

What are those dark spots doing floating in the air like that?

Is It The First Day of School Yet?

Who's dumb ass idea was it for me to have four kids? Couldn't have been mine. Must have been the DH (dumb, not dear) who thought of it. And furthermore, why the hell are they out of school for two and a half months in the summertime? If one of these mfers don't get a job, I think I might kill someone. Eating up my food, dirtying all the goddamn dishes, using all the tp and soap... What the hell are they good for?

I'm not being harsh. My youngest child is nine. If that's not get-a-fucking-job age I don't know what is. They all know better and it is pissing me off that they don't act like it. What ever happened to ass-whuppings? You know, back when you could beat a child's ass and break his spirit and not have to worry about the state coming to lock you up? I got my ass whupped up one side and down the other and I am mad as hell that I can't treat my own kids like Hebrew slaves, too.

Ah, the good old days. How I miss them.

But...maybe if I had been treated better, I wouldn't have the urge to treat my children badly. Just a thought.

Who even cares? Do you? Probably not enough to make any changes, though.

Right?

Me either.

I love (my) children?

Don't you just hate children? Aw, come on. I'm not the only one. You bust your ass providing for them, you cook, clean, do hair, bake (!), discipline, give advice, schlep, shop, and (fill in your own thankless chore here) and what do they do for you? Say thanks? Be obedient? Keep your house clean? Um...no. Those little suckers latch on like a calf at the teat and hold on for dear life, totally and completely dependent on you. Somebody should repeal the child labor laws so I can put these freeloaders to work and finally get something out of this abyss called parenthood.

Whew! Glad I got that off my chest.

Hidden in the darkest crevices of my being is a thin, happy woman who marvels at the wonderment of childhood; its innocence, its naiveness (just found out that was a word), its unconditional love, blah, blah, blah. On the surface, though, is a fat, bitter bitch who wishes people were born at age 30, knowledgeable and not annoying in the least.

Then again I know a lot of annoying 30-year-olds...

WTH?

I had two posts on this blog that that zen bitch deleted. She sucks so frickin' hard! BTW the zen bitch is me...when I'm not PMSing.

I started this blog because I suffer from PMDD. I know, bfd because so do half the women in the U.S. I've tried medication, meditation, and running away from home. The only thing that even remotely helps is alcohol. So shut the hell up and pass the Cuervo because I don't give a fat rat's ass what you think of me right now. It calms me down for about...30 minutes which is just enough time for my husband to grab the kids and run.

I hope they don't come back. They always do. And they never, ever take the damn cat with them.

I'm a completely different person when I'm PMSing. I don't give a shit. About anything. I've composed a list of all the things about which I don't give a shit during this wonderful time of the month:

1. my children
2. your children
3. men
4. animals (I'm a vegetarian)
5. religion
6. oil spills
7. skinny bitches
8. rich bitches
9. skinny, rich bitches
10. you (but keep reading anyway. I'll be back to loving you in about a week).
11. Oprah (need I say more)

My husband and I are going away for our 18th anniversary this week. Pray for him please. Tell God I don't give a shit.

And pass the Cuervo.