Someone, shoot me. P.L.E.A.S.E.

I want to die.
Now.
My ankles are fat.
My eyes feel heavy and dry no matter how many times I blink.
My boobs are heavy and gross. And if my stomach got any more bloated I'd be EXPECTING someone to ask me when I'm due.
And the best part of the whole deal is that I cannot take anything except for Ibuprofin or Tylenol.
Effing wonderful.
For those of you who are new and are wondering why I am bitching and moaning like the walking dead, take a journey down memory road here.
I know I had said I wouldn't give it away when it happened again, but that was before it happened again. And then the whole wanting-to-die-thing kind of messed up my judgement.
So I suppose it's a good thing I didn't do any real work today. Anything I would have turned in would probably have cost me a client. (Seriously, people. I am taking like five minute breaks between W-O-R-D-S so I can refocus my foggy PMS-ing braincells on the next coherent thought. Feel free to point and laugh, but I only wish I was kidding.)
I'm totally in la-la land right now so instead of hurting myself trying to think anymore, I'm just gonna go with the random thoughts in my head:

* Who's in St. Clair Shores reading this? I grew up there and am basically around the corner now. I asked my sister and she swore it wasn't her...and am kinda hoping she's lying because if she isn't, that means someone I went to high school with may have read about my sprained hooha. I imagine that would make for some interesting conversation at the next high school reunion.

* Sweeter is very lucky I already have his Father's Day present. Don't get me wrong; he's a great dad. It's just that I'm crampy, whiny, bitchy, and well, he's a man. Just on principal, I have to at least slightly hate him this week.

(Taking a break. My mind just shut itself down again.....................And we're back.)

* How the hell do people "do it" with more than one kid? And by "it", I do not mean sex. I already know that is impossible with just one, so I'm figuring all subsequent pregnancies will be immaculate conception. What I do mean is, how do you function? How do you get out the door on time? Laundry? Remember to shower? Whatever it is, I am impressed.

* That Pedegg foot thing? Yeah, my sister got one and says it is wonderful. She gave me one (cuz nuthin' says "Your feet are nasty" like the gift of a Pedegg!) and apparantly, my feet are nasty cuz I am getting nowhere near salon-soft feet. Ugghh. The more I use it, the more I gross myself out.

* If there is any justice in the world, I will wake up on Thursday (Buttercup's first birthday) and magically have shed the last 12 or so pounds of pregnancy weight just like that. Come on! I pushed her out, so I deserve a birthday present, too, right? Right?

* I need some wine. Or whiskey. Or both.

* Oooooooooohhh! Chocolate!

(We interrupt this program for a chocolate break. Yes, it might be stereotypical and we are okay with this fact. Because it is true. So very, very true.)