#31 ~ 365 Reasons Being Single Rocks

Mood Swings

#31

Mood swings…they suck

You never see it coming, then suddenly “BAAM” you get your head bit off.

Or your significant other is in the kitchen banging stuff around pissed off (do people do that when when are happy? NO!).

You ask, “What’s wrong?”

Them:  “NOTHING”

Yeah whatever dorfwad.

Being single means only dealing with your own moodiness.

(and believe me MEN do have mood swings!)

Advertisements

Friday Confessional

Photobucket

Confession – It’s Good For The Soul

I Confess….

I DID watch pieces of the royal wedding this morning.

I really couldn’t have cared less as  I think fairy tales are just that and when the rubber meets the road,  royalty or not, it can make for a rough day/week/lifetime.

I Confess….

I am still in my jammies at 2:25pm.

I have showered, put on my face and done my hair.

I spent about an hour on the phone with a friend.

But I just haven’t bothered to get dressed…yet.

I Confess….

This past week has been PMS central for me.

I was really on an edge one day, homicidal in fact.

I was totally depressed and fighting crying the next day.

Damn glad this only happens once a month and only to the extremes about every 3rd month.

I Confess….

While I’ve lost 5 pounds in the past few weeks, I feel fat today.

Not chunky, or pleasantly plump.

Flat out fat.

Guessing it is the PMS?

I Confess….

Despite the PMS.

Despite the fact that everything in my life is not perfect.

Despite everything not being completely ‘right’ in my world…

I am pretty damn happy, and if I count up my blessings, I think I am the most blessed and luckiest  woman on the planet.

BEWARE: U.M.S. – Approach With Caution

For those unfamiliar with the acronym, UMS = Ugly Mood Syndrome.  It is like PMS, only worse.  UMS can make PMS look like a camp fire compared to an atomic bomb going off.  This is the sort of thing for which hubby claims was his reason for bailing out, the occasional, explosive side of me, the ugly monster within.  I never did believe that, my sister-in-law has no intention of ever ditching my brother, and his temper makes mine look very tame.  Ex-hubby has quite the temper himself, though lives in denial, every member of my family has seen it at one time or another.  But this isn’t about him, it is about me, the star of my own reality show.  We stripped him of his award for best supporting actor, the has been. He will never star in my show again.

Back in January I went to the doctor after Lord Voldemort yanked my foundation out from under me.  Didn’t know if I really felt I had issues, but knew that I was not steady emotionally thanks to the great vibes (heavy on the sarcasm) he was dishing my way.  Doc put me on Lexapro to help with the ensuing depression and it also helps with my anger.  Not that I don’t get angry, I still experience a full range of emotions, but the difference is I have time to process before reacting.  My sibling put it best, it is like typing on the computer and there is a slight delay, you type a few letters, and it takes a second or two for whatever reason, for the PC to catch up at times and the letters to appear on the screen.  That is life on Lexapro, being just a key stroke or two behind.  In those nano seconds common sense is able to over ride my desires to choke the living hell out of some jackass that truly has it coming.  It enables me to stop typing or close my mouth when what I really want to do is tell someone that they are nothing short of an ugly, skank whore with a perpetual bitter beer face and have the attractiveness in personality of stagnant water.

UMS doesn’t happen often, usually I’m pretty happy over all.  Just once in a while this demon within wakes and tries to over ride my sweet, adorable disposition.  99% of the time I am able to control this apparition from hell and get her back in her crypt behind bars, even without the help of the medication.  Today would be the grand exception, the single, 1% of the time when she slips past the locks, out of her cell, past the guards and emerges, taking over my mind, heart and soul.  To make it worse, she unlocked the crypt of PMS and they’ve joined forces.  There has been a major hull breach, can you say epic fail?

There may be some contributing factors, some for  which I accept full responsibility, others beyond the realm of my control.  I believe the security began to fail yesterday, when I THINK I forgot to take my meds.   I do not recall taking them at all, but it is usually such habit that I just ‘do it’ every morning (if I could just do IT every morning I’d not need meds!).  Yesterday afternoon I had this annoying little headache, and a few times had chest pains, sure signs of stress for me on a very easy going day.  It never crossed my mind I might have forgotten something, my mood stayed even.

The first real sign of failure to sedate Cruella was last evening.  I had purchased more spray-in pink hair dye while out shopping with my daughter.  She had come to dine with the Divas and brought along her little Yorkie, Penny.  I miss that sweet little pooch.  Voldemort refers to her as numb nuts, which is just stupid as she is female, hasn’t owned a set of nads and never will, so nothing to be numb.   DUH LOSER!  (so sorry, inner voice grabbed control)  I know deep down he loves the dog and HATES the pink hair.  Waahaaahaaa….Penny went home with neon pink hair on top of her little doggie head.  The fact that I had TRIED to find a way to irritate him and say “hi asshole brains” was a sure indicator that I missed my happy pill yesterday.

Act II – I know for certain I did NOT take the medication this morning.  I had not taken my water bottle to my room so I had nothing to wash the pill down with today.  This is NOT a good thing. Today, I first noticed the evil presence growing in my mind on the way to work.  Traffic just sucked ass today, and normally being stopped on the highway doesn’t phase me in the least, I just read tweets or emails on my phone.  Not today, no this morning I felt irritated, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, not being a sweet heart and letting people merge in that knew their lane was closed because the lane has been shut down for road work for 2 weeks now.  Nope, didn’t let them in and referred to them in less than kind terms as I pretended not to see them with their little orange turn signal blinking to get over.  Fuck ’em, I thought, they have known that lane was ending for weeks now, they can sit and wait for a break in traffic.  SO not like me, usually I let them all over.  Because traffic was so horrendous today (there was a broken down vehicle in the left lane on the highway, idiot!), I was 15 minutes late for work.  I am NEVER late, always 15-30 minutes early as my personal work ethic dictates.  30 extra minutes on the flipping interstate, oh that did wonders for my mood.  Now lunch is 15 minutes shorter, so that I can make up the time because I am too honest to lie on my time sheets.

I can feel it seeping through my veins more and more as this day progresses.  I  usually can talk an irate customer back to happy land, today I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling them to go straight to hell.  I take pride in my customer service skills, today I’d like to begin piling up the bodies against the wall, screw being the nice production manager.

The #$@%^&! printer is also out of toner, and no replacement in sight.  Bossman has to come in today so he is grabbing one, thankfully.  I’m out of diet coke in the fridge, NOT good because all that is in here is Diet Mt. Dew, which I really do not care for at all.

I decided that this called for a trip to Chipotle for comfort food.  All was good until I was in the car, ready to back out of my parking spot.  Some shit-for-brains that had obviously borrowed someone’s license to drive there herself, couldn’t pick a parking spot, it was just too big of a decision for her pea size brain  to handle.  Never mind that there were only 2 to chose from, one on the right side of me and one on the left.   She seriously sat there, finger to her mouth, looking back and forth between them like she was watching a tennis match.  ARGH!!!!!!  REALLY LADY??  Morons like her are the reason I usually back into a parking place, so that when I punch it and squeal tires heading toward them to ram the shit out of them I can see the look of terror in their eyes I should take my medication daily.

Diva Mom, I know you will read this, please hide all the alcohol before I get home.  The heinous spirit within is all the more ugly when it consumes adult beverages.  It will result in a much higher body count and we’re rapidly running out of places to dispose of the cadavers.

If the rest of the world that plays supporting roles in my reality show would just read their damned scripts this could all be avoided!

WARNING TO ALL SWINE (MEN):  This would NOT be a good day to piss me off.

PMS, Pixel Dust & Fantasy Dialog

7 years ago I had a hysterectomy and while it released me from monthly visits from the menstrual fairy, it did not relieve the PMS symptoms that invade my otherwise pleasant self and morph me into some kind of a demon possessed freak.  If anything, I would say that the older I am the more vicious and scary that demonic aberration can be.  I have 2 distinct days when it hits, and about every 3rd month the symptoms are to the extreme.  One day being the depression day, when I have the blues and will cry at the drop of a hat over ridiculous things, the other is anger day.  I feel it push the rock from in front of its cave, oozing out to course through my veins, taking over any rational thought or irritation and turning into a nuclear melt down.  Yesterday was odd, both hit at once and I flipped back and forth between them as if someone was randomly flipping a switch.  Thankfully the Lexapro does keep things in check so rather than a full blown radioactive disaster we just had a bonfire of anger at times.   I took it out on the soon-to-be ex-husband, who better?

The dung hit the fan blades when I began thinking about the 26 year old bimbo that began sending him her photos on his cell phone within a week of him telling me he wanted a divorce.  She turned up on his Facebook friends a few months prior.  He bragged to some coworkers about this 26 year old being interested in him when the pictures started coming, a big hairy deal for a 45 year old man.  I’m supposed to believe him that she was not in the picture prior to his sudden shift in attitude toward me in those months before telling me he wanted out but that is a little tough to accept.  No man I have consulted for a guy’s opinion is buying it either, in fact all of them kept telling me this divorce likely had more to do with another woman than me.  I got upset on my way home from work thinking about how I had to give up MY husband, house, hot tub and pool and this little tart is now using all of those AND sleeping in my bed.  The embers smoldered into flames and I decided that I was not in the mood to be cooperative with him.   It was an evening of signing paper work that he had not brought the first time and providing copies of my drivers license.  I was NOT in a good place to say the least but happy to report that my prince turned loser in tin foil and I will be officially divorced on August 2nd.  A Monday because the courts don’t do divorces on Fridays.  I wanted it on our anniversary, thought it would be funny to end it on the same day it began but this year August 13th is a Friday, which would be even MORE fitting!

Fantasy dialog – those things you WANT to say or do but don’t, except to someone close to you that knows you’d never really flatten all 4 tires on the car that is parked entirely too close to yours when you come out of the store.  It is a form of venting.  Like last night after king of the swine (hey HE is the one that told me all men are pigs) stopped by.  I told the other Divas that, since the royal oinker is even more allergic to cats than I am, I’d love to take Pixel kitty over there and rub his pillow cases all over her the next time he is on duty at the fire house.  Cat dander would have his baby blues swollen shut and watering by the time he woke up sneezing all over himself.  My mom chimed in and referred to the dander as Pixel Dust.  Not to be confused with Pixie Dust, Pixel Dust isn’t going to help anyone fly no matter how many happy thoughts they can think.  Though if it was Pixie dust, it was one deliciously gleeful thought for me that would have had me soaring above the clouds!  Hmm..maybe rub his bath towel all over her too.

Today is a new day, the sun is shining, the weather is beautiful, and the evil monster is back in her cave.  Marvi me is back in her glory, wishing nothing but prosperity and happiness for the ex-hubby to be, right after a piano falls on his salt and pepper haired head. *wicked evil grin*

UPDATED 7:45PM

Seems the little ho-se bunny is MARRIED! Found her on my  son’s Facebook, along with her husband’s page, and they have a child,  looks to be about 2yo.  How precious  is that! Wonder if the hubby (who is a co-worker of one of my offspring) is aware  his  wife is spending a lot  of time in my former bed with the soon to be former hubby? Wondering is that the sudden rush to empty out the spare bedroom? Moving her and the little bundle of joy into  the house? How  delicious is that!  *wondering* will the little  girl call Pete step-daddy…or GRANDPA since he is old enough to be her momma’s daddy…..