Grr.

Moar PMS.
Finally gave in and made chocolate pudding.  I know comfort food is not the answer, but it was that or drive over to Skankalottawhore's house and poison all her plants while she's out of town to Portland over the extended weekend. 
And maybe to shit in her fridge.
I know.  I know.  Stop being a baby.  Stop dwelling.  Stop living in the past.  Stop letting this get to me... stopstopstop.
Or eat a bowl of chocolate pudding and read until my brain is numb.  It is what it is.