I Saw Two Cars With License Plates That Said PMS..

...I laughed about it then, but I don't laugh now. Why? Because I have it. PMS. Well, more like RNMS (Right Now Menstrual Syndrome).
First, I wake up with cramps, so I climb into the shower. My dear, dear friend the shower, who is always there for me, waiting with large quantities of hot water (unless someone else got there before, God save his soul) and smelly good soaps. I sat in the shower until the water ran warm. Shower is a hard worker and can only do so much with his small water heater. I climbed out and let him rest. I felt much better after a round of four ibeprofen, so I sat down and logged onto my online music theory class to study for my final. However, not long after I sat down, my uterus went "AHHHHHHH!! I'M BEING SMASHED BETWEEN YOUR BIG BUTT AND STOMACH!! I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS" and it gave the ibeprofen the ol' one-two. I, being the perservering type, would not let this effect me. I stood (or sat) my ground, refusing to let my uterus control me!!!!
3 minutes later, I was back in the shower. At this point, I had moved passed being frustrated with my uterus and moved onto being frustrated with anyone and anything. My poor dad, who is always very understanding of me during these hard times, incurred my wrath by asking too many times in a ten minute span if I wanted some soup. It was at about this time I remembered that I still had a paper to write for my tap class (yes, we have to do papers for a dance class). So, newly refreshed from the shower and hotpad in hand, I raced downstairs to start an extensive research of Shirley Temple and Bill 'Bojangles' Robinson. This was when the computer decided it also didn't appreciate my existence. It was at this moment that ten million trojan horses, spyware, pop-ups, and every sort of horrible thing that can happen to your computer, showed their ugly faces on the screen. I spent two hours, TWO HOURS, of my life, of my precious, breathing, well earned, life hours just trying to exit out of all the stupid windows of crap. Each one literally took about five minutes to close because they were making the computer run so slowly. I couldn't even open up internet.
So, after two wasted hours of trying to fix the internet, 4 hours of my dad trying to soup me, and 5 hours of off and on showering, cramping, ibeprofening, and hotpadding, I trudged up to the bathroom where my mom who had just returned from work was taking a relaxing bath and broke down. I stood there and sobbed, scared the crap out of my mom who had no idea what was going on, and between sniffles tried to explain that basically my life was over because I couldn't get the internet to work so I could better knowledge myself about Bojangles.
Needless to say, my mom is the best mom in the world. She climbed out of the bath immediately and went down stairs in search of books that had any mention of dance in them. My dad who had been roused by the sounds of his soupless daughter crying, peaked around the bathroom corner and asked what he could do. This was the part where I felt like a horrible person. After five minutes of crying and realized there was about five different ways I could go about doing my report easily, I felt the frustration go away and realized that I had overreacted a little.
Regardless though, I blame my uterus. Completely. It is the cause of all my problems. Did I mention that I had a concert to go to tonight? Ben Folds was going to be my first real concert outside of all the Kurt Bestor shows I sat through as a child. I weepily told Melissa over the phone that I wasn't going to be able to go. Foolish uterus.
And now you find my lying on my couch, surrounded by fluffy pillows and warm blankets, my laptop perched upon my knees, writing this blog instead of writing my paper. The uterus has calmed and has stopped it's whining.....for now. How nice would it be if I could just hand in this blog instead of that paper? No doubt it is long enough, plus some. Oh, well, dinner is ready. It smells really good. Bojangles will have to wait.