forty one minutes to gin
If you’re going to PMS, you might as well really DO it. You might as well accidentally come across yet another recent letter to your boyfriend from his ex, which doesn’t sound accidental except that they are so numerous they literally fall on you when you pull a book off the shelf or clear the table for dinner in his apartment. It’s not the sort of thing that used to get under your skin because there’s no shortage of nonsketchy letter-writing exes in your life, but since you’re PMSing you might as well take the opportunity to realize that you’ve apparently contracted a new case of jealousy, herpes-like, from the last boy you spent time with. You might as well have a long uncomfortable teary conversation with said boyfriend in which this letter shit does not even come up because you realize it is just you, being crazy in a way you don’t want to be, and besides the time gets filled up talking about priorities and misunderstandings and being at a loss for what to do.You might as well wake up groggy at six the next morning and get stuck in two and a half hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic, listening to a cd audiobook of the most uncomical thing Steve Martin ever wrote, the middle of Shopgirl, in which the eponymous shopgirl falls into a prolonged depression and gets treated poorly by two different men in two different ways. When I found it at the library I was really hoping for something a little more Jerk-like, Man With Two Brains, that sort of thing, but no dice. You might as well be late for work.
If you’re going to have PMS it only makes sense to drag yourself through the morning by thinking about hot soup for lunch. That way when the sandwich place, by only twelve thirty, is entirely sold out of soup, you can throw your hands in the air and order a sandwich as Portland’s first hard rain starts pouring down out of nowhere. You can sit in the window with your no-meat sandwich and read the book you picked up because of its title, Lucky, which is actually about, I kid you not, rape.
And then you can come back to your office, and Surrender. You can say, This is one day, and it’s humpday, after all. And – as Joshua pointed out – we are already on the downhill side of the hump.
posted by tortaluga @ 4:19 PM
2 Comments:
yeah for the downhill side of the hump!!!
poopy.
yippee!
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