Angry Like Hulk & Passive-Agressive Sighing

Due to a prescription snafu, the drug industry's desire to control everything and sheer laziness, my birth control pill has not arrived yet. And I am out. There is a point to this, rather than just too much information. It means that due to the HORMONAL IMBALANCE of incredible magnitude, the PMS has come. And it's not pretty.

Yesterday there was the crying. I got a lump in my throat during a journey diamond necklace commercial. Those are for mocking, not crying; journey diamonds are the most ridiculously overhyped piece of crap jewelery that lame people buy because they have no taste (if you have one or are going to buy one, then . . . you suck, sorry). But today, oh today, the anger has come. The oh-my-god-will-you-just-DIE anger. Work required deep breaths and feeling massively superior to the less-competent.

Anyway, I went to the art store to get something framed. The store closes at 6:30. I arrived at 5:15. The framer had left for the day. Now, in my sensitive (irrational) state, this upset me. I wanted some compassion for my situation. I had walked all the way over there in the freezing cold. But the guy (flunkie) didn't have the right attitude (grovelling, apologizing and giving me free stuff) for my situation. And 'lo, I was angry like Hulk. But I held it in. Maybe I acted a bit of a martyr. I might possibly have sighed heavily. And maybe made a big deal about how busy I am a la a person with a life: "will they be here on Tuesday. . .no, wait, can't do it Tuesday. . .Wednesday? Will she be here until close? Are you sure?" - like I am very important* whose schedule is just SO FULL that this is a MAJOR inconvenience. But that's it - I recognized that I was irrational. But I was thinking death-thoughts about the flunkie.

*Just to let you know how ridiculous this is, my life consists of the following: sleep (8 hours), work (9-12 hours), watch television vaguely and waste time (2 hours), eat (2-4 hours). That's my life. Sometimes I do the time wasting with my guy (though he makes me do activities, such as moving or sitting at the table to eat, which I do while sighing heavily).

And I get home and my drain is still clogged (because it didn't get unclogged magically while I was at work by little Oompa-Loompa fairies?), my Christmas dress hasn't arrived from Nordstrom.com, and my prescription still has not arrived. My suffering is great, but I am strong. There will be phone calls, oh there will be phone calls. And I will sigh heavily. They should be afraid.

Aaanyway, as a special "treat" (what I do every night), I am going to watch Friends, eat Puffins out of the box and watch the scarf I am knitting not knit itself. Don't be jealous.

PS: On a tangent, however, I am also angry at Hollywood. Why do they suck? Why do they think we are dumb? There is a movie coming out with Matthew Perry and Zac Efron and it is apparently a remake of Big, Like Father Like Son (the gem with Dudley Moore and Kirk Cameron), 13 Going on 30, Dream a Little Dream (the Coreys are masterful), and others, I'm sure. I think there was one with Milton Berle. WTF. I was in Blockbuster the other day and wondering (loudly) why all the movies sucked (though my guy was slightly affronted when I said this as had his arms full of 30 straight-to-DVD horror movies that he thought looked awesome). Why are they passing off unoriginal drivel? I don't have really high movie standards (Bring It On is far superior to Stick It - oh, but I'll still watch Stick It), but if I'm offended, you know Hollywood is fresh out of ideas.