P.M frickin' S.

That wonderful time of month again, I am pms'ing. Everyone look the hell out.
Daggers fly out of my fiery eyes, and smoke blows out my nostrils - I'm in that mood where I would knock an old woman out of my path, and not look back. (ok I would look back and help her up while apologizing profusely and then I'd walk her home to make sure she was okay and then probably offer to mow her lawn for the next year. but that's not my point.)

There isn't enough chocolate in this world to make me feel better.

Maybe Margarita-Madness at work is called for tomorrow.
Oh wait, how does that song go? "Tequila makes her take her clothes off."
Hmm... on second thought, maybe I'll just stay home - that way I can leave the sombrero on.

Bloody Hell. ( this pun was bound to happen.)
Pour me, POUR ME, pour me another shot of whiskey.