PMS AND BOXES (if you just made an association, you're a sicko)

I can't stand packing boxes. I'd rather go to the dentist. No I wouldn't. But instead of discounting my original lie, we could just pretend that it'd be me accompanying someone to the dentist, and being stuck in the waiting room with only PG rated magazines. I'm trying to concentrate and along comes someone who needs a helping hand. One more outside request and I'm going to unabomb. And I'll let you in on a little secret- community colleges and tiny airports with those little car sized planes… will be the first to go. So when does anyone do me a favor? No one I know routinely goes out of their way to do nice things for me. In addition, most persons I know are spoiled by my generosity and aren't even in the habit of saying thank you. This may be excusable when it comes to exhibiting gratitude for gifts but not when it comes to being grateful for weighty favors or handmade tokens etc. I'm sick and tired of cheap presents, no presents, no cards, moochers, and total neglect of special occasions such as my birthday(yes, special…my birth registered an "oy vey" on the Richter scale). I'm even sicker and tireder (shutup. Pissed off people aren't bound to the rules of grammar) of they who offer, say, to take me out to dinner when more often than not I don't particularly enjoy eating out. And I repeatedly communicate this sentiment. In fact, I usually go out to restaurants with people just to be compromising, and well…to make sure the complimentary bread doesn't go to waste. I admit it…the pizza delivery guy is my mentor. What of it? Hey man…being thoughtful isn't about just doing what you want to do. And it also quite obviously shouldn't stem from ulterior motives (as in the man who transparently tries to impress a woman or the person who performs a kind gesture strictly to get in good w/the recipient). I fluff my own pillows. I pay my own way. I'm giving, sentimental, and pure of heart (I am too, you dumb *&^% clod). The single complaint I hear the most is that I'm too reclusive, that friends are supposed to see friends in the flesh. Yet I can only enjoy humanity in measured doses. The majority of the population are selfish, lobotomized, without integrity, and worse yet, have an abundance of lint in their belly buttons. I know…you're different. Pull this leg and it'll play Metallica in Musak. I truly like having penpals for many reasons, one of them being that the only person who hasn't ever ticked me off by being grossly cheap, unappreciative and calculating is a penpal I've never met. Hardly a Hemingway but something tells me he has some genuine soul. In one important regard he's treated me better than people who'd deem themselves real friends. Wow I'm sounding more and more like a NRA subscribing postmaster who's damn fed up with illegible handwriting and improperly placed stamps. You'll never know who or what set me off but feel free to assign PMS as a secondary cause. I'm 9 days late. Of course there's no chance of me being pregnant because I'm not even dating a zucchini. And while we're on the topic of sex, I'm sick and tired of not always being able to freely talk with men about other men and I'm even sicker and tireder (who died and made you head grammarian?) of male chums trying to cross the line. You boy me girl. Let's move on. All I want right now is to go get something sweet to eat so that I can calm my frazzled nerves. But I'm afraid to go to my car because there's this mammoth size flying insect that's marked the area around the garage. This clearly is not an American born insect. It had to come over from like Panama to escape political oppression. This well could be the scariest UFO I've ever spotted. As if it's not bad enough that it's the bully bug, must it be boisterous as well? This is not a bug you would admit to the library. It's making this thwacking noise and I can tell it's dying to thwack into me. I'm pretty sure being thwacked by a strapping mutant insect induces all sorts of strange side effects from a hypersensitivity to fatal wounds to growing tweeze-resistant ear hair (outer ear. Like you're going to tweeze your inner ear hair. Y'know man, you're dangerous to yourself. Remind me to hide the Q tips from you.) If we're being honest here, I did once stick a Qtip straight into my auditory organ and consequently my auditory organ did ache for 2 whole weeks. It was unbearable for the people around me, because I ended up speaking even more loudly.

And at sudden, I'm feeling jolly again. Either I'm severely manic depressive or female. Same difference. By the way, I'm relocating so it might be a while before I answer e-mail(apologies). But if you simply can't wait, the answer is no. And "no" doesn't mean "yes". Yes means yes. Whereas "yesno" would constitute a mixed signal. And "noyes" would just be a synonym for "yesno" and keep you from sounding redundant. And "drfruwriwe" should mean absolutely nothing to you. You just have to take peoples verdicts at face value. Except "maybe." Clearly that translates to "I'm going to tell you 'no' next week."

Maybe not.