Apparently it was burn-your-esophagus-with-chai day at Starbucks. Not that I don't love a nice, slow herbal burn, I was just expecting something a little less, uh, fierce. You know, more of the soothing, calming attributes and less of the "my throat is bleeding" characteristics. Disappointed? You betcha. This was just another notch in my PMS Sucks belt.

I was never bothered much by my monthly "womanly duty." It would kind of quietly approach and quickly leave, never hanging around very long. To say it's ramped up some since I had the second kid would be a gross understatement. Now I find myself a sobbing mess trying unsuccessfully to pick out frozen pizza at the local WalMart. "... but I don't know if I like pepperoni... and I don't know what's cheaper... I can't do math... and I'm so fat! And my hair is stringy and gross and I want to move and how come I can't afford a new couch? My life sucks so bad!"

Add to that attempting to shop for yoga pants for a show I'm doing this weekend when I'm twenty pounds heavier than I've ever weighed in my life. Now that was a joyous occasion. Seeing that snug fitting fabric stretching over the wobbly weight in my trunk was enough to send me over the edge. Ever have the police arrive at your dressing room to conduct a welfare check? I was two seconds away from that...