The Menstrual Meter

Today the Menstrual Meter is at a high rate. I'm irritable. Like totally. These days I feel like I'm looking for something to bitch about. That's not good and very out of character for me. Let's start with the workplace, shall we? Everything's going smoothly except some people always want to buck the system, you know? There's a certain way of doing things, so just do it that way. Moving on....

This weekend I was off the charts with the attitude. The cause of my frustration: PMS and men (see a pattern, here?). I called my guy BFF (that's so funny to me!) to vent and you know what he said? "You should go out." That probably made me even madder than what I was. Sometimes this advice can be useful, but I had already been out. On top of that the BFF gives me the same three pieces of advice: (1) You should wild out and get some action, (2) You gotta keep it playa, mane and (3) You gotta shake back--it'll be alright. I established on last night that 35 percent of the time, his advice is irrelevant to my situation and it sucks. He agrees, "True...I never said it would work, but it always works for me." Womp womp!

"You make bad choices in men. You don't know how to pick em."
-Poetic Justice

I'm still getting these cookie-cutter texts from Mr. DC. Why? Does that mean he really wants to talk to me or he really wants to text me? LMAO. I just knew after last week, I wouldn't hear (read)anything from him again. I was clearly wrong. You (as in the reader) know how I feel about text messaging. I thought about calling him and saying, "Hey, this is why I don't respond to you anymore. (Begin rant)." I could atleast do that because men aren't mind-readers, right? He doesn't know I don't do the TMs. I really did think about it and decided against it because even though he doesn't know how I feel about that, he could atleast pick up the phone to speak to me. Hell, we're over 1,000 miles away from each other, not in the same city.

Actually, it doesn't matter either way. I can't teach grown ass men what to do and what not to do. That's what you have your Mama for.

I got a text from Mr. Blue Collar (he actually has phone conversations, so it's a balance). He's very sweet, but I was once again igged by the fact that he's on this, "stop by and holler at you" thing. Not hot. Who am I, your next door neighbor? On two occasions I have mentioned meeting somewhere for drinks or something light. Something always comes up. Get the ___ out of here. I really don't want to find something to complain about, but this would be it. I have GOT to do better. This makes me want to go on hiatus and I was just on one. Hell, I'm always on a hiatus.



But then again, it could be the Menstrual Meter talking.