I was already in a pretty bad mood for several reasons. I was at work, which consistently makes me a skrotsky biotch. I was sleepy. I was feeling a little (ie. panic attack-inducing) overwhelmed with the amount of work I had to do. Because I was sleepy, I felt a little fuggly. You bitches know how it goes: you’re tired, so you tie your hair back in a wet ponytail, put on chapstick, look in the mirror, decide you look like a hob-goblin, and hope that a rabid raccoon doesn’t fly at your face on the walk to work.
Also, I was feeling a leetle depressed because school has taken away my ability to have a social life, and I have basically become a bat-shit hermit. I’m one tattered housecoat and about 12 cats away from becoming a cat-throwing crazy lady. And I have PMS. Badly. The kind where I should be banned to a tent on the outskirts of civilization to squat over a pile of hay and leaves, because I am not suitable for human contact. I need a can of icing and a good bleed. Too much? My uterus apologizes. But I say piss off.
Oh, and I lost rrroll up the rrrim 3 times in a row today. I’m 0 for 14 now. Where’s my goddamn I-Pod, TimWhores? Where’s my goddamn I-Pod. I’d shake my fist in anger, but there’s no need since my entire body is vibrating from the caffeine. Fucking Tim’s. I hate you.
So, with the weight of the world on my hunched shoulders, I decided I needed some air and thought I’d go for a quick walk.
And then I got barked at. By a human.
Not even a crazy human. I could have shrugged that right off. I probably wouldn’t even have faltered, since I regularly get yelled at, glared at, and chased by the crazies who pepper UniversityTown like a subtle seasoning.
But no. This was a normal person. A boy. An attractive boy, definitely rich, in his SUV with his equally attractive and rich friends. They drove by, he stuck his head out the window, barked at me, and his beautiful friends laughed, popped their collars, and drove off towards the eating disorders clinic to throw cheeseburgers at the bulimics. Probably.
Now, on a good day, I like to think that I am at least reasonably attractive. I’m no coke-snorting runway model, but I can hold my own in a bar. I’ve broken my fair share of mens. I have knockers that just won’t quit (seriously, they won’t. Tell me how to make them stop).
This was not a good day, but I don’t think I was bark-worthy. I looked a little poopy, and I knew that, but I got barked at? Really? Like I’m a fucking dog?
I tried to laugh it off, but my uterus was noticeably upset:
ThePeach: Ha wow, what a tool.
ThePeach’s Uterus: YOU’RE HIDEOUS!!!
ThePeach: Ha, that guy really sucked.
ThePeach’s Uterus: MONSTER!!! UNFIT FOR PUBLIC!!
ThePeach: Heh…maybe I should have done my hair today.
ThePeach’s Uterus: HIDE YOUR SHAME!!! DOG!!!
ThePeach: I guess these aren’t my nicest jeans.
ThePeach’s Uterus: RUFF!!! RUFF-RUFF!!! RUFF!!!
ThePeach: *sob* I hate my stupid life.
ThePeach’s Uterus: BUY ME CHIPS, DOG!!
ThePeach: *sobs, puts coin in candy machine*
And then I came home and cried on my new, urine-free futon for 4 hours. I also watched Dr. Phil.
Maybe you think I’m over-reacting.
But I got barked at. By a human.
And my uterus has me by the ‘nads.