Bottle of white wine, cheese that shouldn't be eaten and several hours later
So I should retitle my blog "Mildy bitter, usually happy, saddly in need of a boyfriend to do heavy lifting around the house 34 year old"
First to all my lady friends out there - Ladies, do not allow PMS to drive your grocery shopping agenda or you will end up with cheese you know full well your body will NOT digest in a dignified manner, a $20 bottle of fabulous pinot grisio the name of whose maker you will not be able to pronounce but now that you've drunk the bottle of wine you feel as though not only CAN you but you can also speak the language of its home country AND a yen for all things French bread and homemade orange marmalade.
NOT TO Mention the last DVD in the Gilmore Girls Season Two set has arrived from netflix.
So here I am, a proud woman who owns her own home, is attempting to get in to grad school (whole nother story there), I look cute save the few (ok many) extra pounds, personality of a gem however the most introverted extrovert I know.
I'm cranky b/c I'm PMSing (stupid estrogen)
I'm cranky b/c some of my dearest friends have all moved away and begun amazing lives
I'm cranky b/c people I thought were my dearest friends have made every invitation I've extended a futile attempt at breathing life resusitating a corpse of a friendship.
I'm cranky b/c it's Friday, I've become such an introvert I'm drinking a bottle wine with cheese and chicken sausages (also not digestible in an Emily Post fashion) in my home watching the Gilmore Girls by myself
I'm cranky b/c as many times as I review Chapter Two in Marketing for the Masses, I can't seem to retain ANYTHING.
I'm cranky b/c I have to wake up for class tomorrow in the AM - 9:30 AM to be exact, on a Saturday no less, with an instructor I feel may have a more deep seeded PMS issues than I do and he's a man (yet a whole nother story that I've not yet crafted into something readable)
But...
I am happy
I have my own house
I have dear friends to visit in new places
I have space in my life for new friends who RSVP "A movie? Great! I'll meet you there"
I have until Monday to complete my review of Chapter Two
I get to sit in class tomorrow with another cranky Latina who will laugh at my whitfull and acerbic commentary of our instructors' "FREE FORM" style of teaching and then I'll invite her for coffee at Panera.
I'm home on a Friday night and I have full control of the remote and the ENTIRE bottle of super yummy Chateau du le Chat Avec le Pom de Terre Rouge chilled to perfection all to myself with melty Brie, butchy Manchego (Via ESPANA) and goatty garlicy cheese with a fresh baggette that was hot at the store (seriously, in the winter I would have put it under my pillow so I could sleep warm with dreams of buns (take that as you will) in my head) and fabu spinach and feta chicken sausage - ALL of which will leave me in a horrible position in another hour or so but I have plenty of magazines and a new Suduko book in the powder -SO all is well
I am hopeful to some day run my hand down the arm of a fella who's got that look in his eye and pull him close for a soft, sweet, drawn out kiss that feels endless and doesn't neccesarily lead to clothing strune across the floor, that at it's end, the longing for another is so great the moon is pulled off it's axis. (I used to be that good of a kisser, only time will tell)
AND after watching the Gilmore Girls, I am reminded that I am good at being funny and quick and acerbic - it's entertaining on so many levels and I love and miss 75 MPH whit and speech.
Ah the good life
I'm fine -I'm a PMSy woman of 34 years. Whose only mildly cranky now b/c of... well, have you seen "French Kiss" with Meg Ryan and Kevin Klein... the scene on the train... while 45 kinds of government approved cheese is delightful.... ugh... UUUUUUUUGHHHHH stop the rocking, stop the rocking!!!
I don't want to look at the cows...
I just ate that cow....
First to all my lady friends out there - Ladies, do not allow PMS to drive your grocery shopping agenda or you will end up with cheese you know full well your body will NOT digest in a dignified manner, a $20 bottle of fabulous pinot grisio the name of whose maker you will not be able to pronounce but now that you've drunk the bottle of wine you feel as though not only CAN you but you can also speak the language of its home country AND a yen for all things French bread and homemade orange marmalade.
NOT TO Mention the last DVD in the Gilmore Girls Season Two set has arrived from netflix.
So here I am, a proud woman who owns her own home, is attempting to get in to grad school (whole nother story there), I look cute save the few (ok many) extra pounds, personality of a gem however the most introverted extrovert I know.
I'm cranky b/c I'm PMSing (stupid estrogen)
I'm cranky b/c some of my dearest friends have all moved away and begun amazing lives
I'm cranky b/c people I thought were my dearest friends have made every invitation I've extended a futile attempt at breathing life resusitating a corpse of a friendship.
I'm cranky b/c it's Friday, I've become such an introvert I'm drinking a bottle wine with cheese and chicken sausages (also not digestible in an Emily Post fashion) in my home watching the Gilmore Girls by myself
I'm cranky b/c as many times as I review Chapter Two in Marketing for the Masses, I can't seem to retain ANYTHING.
I'm cranky b/c I have to wake up for class tomorrow in the AM - 9:30 AM to be exact, on a Saturday no less, with an instructor I feel may have a more deep seeded PMS issues than I do and he's a man (yet a whole nother story that I've not yet crafted into something readable)
But...
I am happy
I have my own house
I have dear friends to visit in new places
I have space in my life for new friends who RSVP "A movie? Great! I'll meet you there"
I have until Monday to complete my review of Chapter Two
I get to sit in class tomorrow with another cranky Latina who will laugh at my whitfull and acerbic commentary of our instructors' "FREE FORM" style of teaching and then I'll invite her for coffee at Panera.
I'm home on a Friday night and I have full control of the remote and the ENTIRE bottle of super yummy Chateau du le Chat Avec le Pom de Terre Rouge chilled to perfection all to myself with melty Brie, butchy Manchego (Via ESPANA) and goatty garlicy cheese with a fresh baggette that was hot at the store (seriously, in the winter I would have put it under my pillow so I could sleep warm with dreams of buns (take that as you will) in my head) and fabu spinach and feta chicken sausage - ALL of which will leave me in a horrible position in another hour or so but I have plenty of magazines and a new Suduko book in the powder -SO all is well
I am hopeful to some day run my hand down the arm of a fella who's got that look in his eye and pull him close for a soft, sweet, drawn out kiss that feels endless and doesn't neccesarily lead to clothing strune across the floor, that at it's end, the longing for another is so great the moon is pulled off it's axis. (I used to be that good of a kisser, only time will tell)
AND after watching the Gilmore Girls, I am reminded that I am good at being funny and quick and acerbic - it's entertaining on so many levels and I love and miss 75 MPH whit and speech.
Ah the good life
I'm fine -I'm a PMSy woman of 34 years. Whose only mildly cranky now b/c of... well, have you seen "French Kiss" with Meg Ryan and Kevin Klein... the scene on the train... while 45 kinds of government approved cheese is delightful.... ugh... UUUUUUUUGHHHHH stop the rocking, stop the rocking!!!
I don't want to look at the cows...
I just ate that cow....
posted by M is for... at
10:15 PM
2 Thoughts Shared:
Sorry , cant do heavy lifting.
By
Old Man Rich, at 7:11 AM, October 03, 2006
Hmm. I didn't see French Kiss, but coming from a woman who might as well be Screaming-Mo-Fo-Chicken-Little when PMS hits, it hardly matters.
I generally go for the medicine cabinet and then a good Terry Pratchett book. Perhaps hot chocolate, a hot bath and a whole lot of Leave Me The Hell Alone, I'm Not Human, Can't You See The Hackles, Stupid?
That's just me, personally.
And currently.
Damn hackles.
By
Anonymous, at 5:09 PM, October 30, 2006
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