Yesterday she was grumpy when she got home, and sat down in front of the teevee with a big bucket of fried chicken. First she watched murder reportage, then switched on the jewelry channel. A while later she went into the kitchen to scarf down some icecream while glowering, following which she announced "oh bugger it all, I'm going to have a nice long soak!"
Before heading into the bathroom she went on for a while about dinosaurs.
It's getting mighty close to that time of the month. I can always tell.
A friend to whom I mentioned all this asked if she was a werewolf.
I need to point out that I am an expert on women, and thus know that fried chicken is a sign of impending menses, NOT impending doom.
I therefore feel assured that she will not be sneaking into my room late at night with fangs and ripping my head off.
Fried chicken. Period.
I've always felt more at ease around women close to their period than anywhere near werewolves. Sure, they act all possessive about the sources of chocolate, sugar, and fatty snacks, but as long as you do not get between them and the microwave or the freezer, no one gets hurt.
I wonder if her dumbass boyfriend ("Wheelie Boy") has figured out that most of the time she gets pissed at his utter insensitivity is around this time of the month. Maybe he doesn't move out of the way fast enough. Or maybe he does not keep cookies, icecream, and microwaveable fatty snacks in his refrigerator.
Women are least like dinosaurs and werewolves when they get proper nutrition. Besides iron, which plummets when it's this time, the other crucial substances are vitamin D and magnesium.
Chocolate, spinach, icecream.
Plus bananas, of course.
And cheese.
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