Menstrual Rants.

This month my period decided to pummel my soul and have its way with my sanity. So I've just been binge reading The Blogess and laying around feeling miserable.

I got stuck reading comments on one of her posts where she asks people for the best and worst gifts they ever received. She gets three to six hundred comments per post so so it's basically a great time management on my part.

 Being as menstrual as I am, I just skipped over the bests to focus on the worsts, getting angrier and angrier as I went. 

Soon an image formed in my mind of a sort of senile grandma/malicious mother-in-law/cheap great-aunt hybrid who buys you a broken dollar store scale and clothing several sizes too small, and probably for the wrong gender, with a note attached about your diet. 

 I'm so mad at all these imaginary people! 

Then I started remembering how my mom used to buy me clothes well into my 20s from the store I loved when I was 13. Oh and once when I was little we went Christmas shopping and the only thing I pointed out to her was how God awful the imitation Opium perfume smelled. Sure enough, that Christmas my two sisters and I each got a bottle of the stuff. 

Oh God I really hope she doesn't read this, now I feel shitty about being such a bitch. But I already felt shitty so... I'll point out that my mom did all the cleaning and cooking for our five person family while working full-time as a doctor and none of us helped with anything. Especially not my dad. Just saying. 

Which leads me to another menstrual rant. In all my childhood, there was about only three maybe four times that my mom left for some kind of conference or something, as opposed to tons of scientific conferences Dad used to go on. So the couple times Mom was gone, Dad would give us a big lecture on how Mom shouldn't have to do XY and Z all by herself, it was unfair. So, for the sake of fairness, he'd make us do all the chores and then promptly forget about them all the moment she returned.

On the other hand, when Dad left we got to go to McDonald's and it was awesome. If we suggested McDonald's while he was around we would get a huge lecture on how this evil corporation brainwashed people into thinking their horrible food was good by repeating the slogan, "It's a good time for the great taste of McDonald's." (Remember that one?) Because as the great thinker so-and-so so famously said, if you repeat a lie often enough it becomes true. (Oh geez, I just looked it up. It was Joseph Goebbels. I promised my dad didn't think Joseph Goebbels was a great thinker.)
I think that a great example of this phenomenon is the lie that McDonald's isn't delicious, Dad. Here's proof.

Now I want some fries. Shit. Not McDonald's though, that stuff will rot your guts.
You know you're a PMSed mess when you're retelling injustices from your childhood about Christmas, chores and McDonald's. I feel like I should mention that my dad is an amazing scientist who somehow convinced the government to give him half a million dollars for an electron microscope that would have to be specially put together for him in Switzerland whereas my biggest accomplishment today, for example, was moving from the bed to the couch. 

Here's this massive guy with new bail:

P.S. Do you ever wake up with the last thought from your dream still in your head? I woke up this morning thinking how awesome it would be to start signing my name, "Marina Rios, maker of fine Irish whiskey since 1822."

I'm going to put the next two winners, which I already have, in another post because I'm trying to do shorter posts.