Maybe it's early onset menopause...

It might just be the full moon, but I seem to have had my period all in reverse this month. The communists sojourned quite happily in the summer house and left with as little ceremony as they arrived. It was only then that my strange body saw fit to notify me of their presence. For the past three days (all of them curse-free) I've traveled the gamut of widely recognised period related activities.

Monday: felt jittery and nervous

Tuesday: recognised the desire to burst into tears at the slightest provocation - seriously, I was walking down the mall listening to Disney's Greatest Hits (musical geek, front row centre) and I almost started crying during 'Colours Of The Wind'. Yes! Yes! We ARE all connected to each other! We CAN paint with all the colours of the wind!

Wednesday/Thursday: I became obsessed with eating everything sweet and/or salty within reaching distance. I must have devoured my left leg's weight of cashew nuts tonight. It's out of control.

Perhaps that's why I've been so incapable of writing this past week? Stop fucking with me, body!

Honestly, I understand that *I'm* lax and irresponsible when it comes to remembering and preparing for appointments - I would never have guessed such vague headedness extended to my hormones as well. Obviously, they need to start writing lists. Or at least covering their tracks a little better.

Pull your socks up menstrual cycle! This is not like freelance writing! You can't just put a star next to your emails and try to convince yourself later that this small concession to activity means everything's trucking along smoothly.

Luckily, such feelings allow one to indulge in activities like pouring your salt ravaged body onto the couch and drooling over handsome men in romantic films you've seen billions of times already.

I declare to you thusly, The Notebook is officially the best film ever. Why o why does Noah Calhoun not exist in real life? HE BUILT HER A FRAKKING HOUSE PEOPLE.

But I was really sad to discover while trawling the trivia pages of both Gosling and The Notebook's respective IMDb pages hear that Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams split up last year. They were so adorable together. If those two kids couldn't make it work, what hope do the rest of us have?

See? Upside down hormones.

It must have been this befuddled mind that led me to purchase stamps on RSVP tonight. I resisted it for so long, but it actually made me feel quite liberated to initiate whimsical emails to two attractive gentleman living yonder across state lines. And yes, one of them was this lad. I am happy to report almost immediate success in response. Who knew it would be so easy?

Peace out (please o please will someone give me back my blogging mojo? This shit is getting embarrassing...)


PS Be sure to check out my Sunday mail blog this week. I made me a fillum today (or rather, I walked around and talked my face off while Harry recorded, directed and then edited the footage into some semblance of excellence) to vlog the bejeezus out of the Sunday crowd. Breaking down fourth walls is what I'm all about.