Okay. Maybe my Greasy Hair Day special was a bit odd, and no, I didn't go into terribly much depth about our sleeping arrangements during the room-sharing fiasco. But seriously, just put the four molecules of Dijon on your sandwich already.
#27. Some people crave carbs while PMSing; I happen to be prone to random fits of irrational anger. And also, I crave carbs. Call me a multi-tasker if you will. That's why they pay me the big bucks.
#28. Okay, they really don't pay me that many bucks.
So, interestingly, the only thing more gay than a woman singing "I Kissed a Girl" is when your husband sings it, particularly when performed in a wicked Katy Perry falsetto. It's probably my fault for forgetting most of the words to songs, then belting out the one line I do know, over and over (...something something, cherry Chapstick...). I actually have quite the repertoire of moment-appropriate song snippets, but somehow this past week the only one I've used has been from Cell Block Tango - he had it comin'!
(Pop. Six. Squish. Empty jars in the fridge! Etc.)
Which brings me back to the irrational anger bit. And on that note, I am going to pour myself a nice big bottle of wine and chill the hell out. I don't like Dijon anyways.