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Anyone levitate or have an urge to rebuild a carburetor?

Issue Date: Friday, Apr. 07, 2006

Ladies, I want to conduct a poll.

Sorry guys, you can participate only if you want to talk about the menstrual cycles of the women you love/know/stalk. Would that be totally talking out of school to discuss the workings of your loved/known/stalked ones plumbing?

Am I the only one who doesn’t like to call it plumbing? When you hear someone calling your uterus “plumbing” do ya’ll think of some guy named Bruce bent double under your “sink” with his crack showing and mumbling something about 3/8ths fitter joints?

Just me again?


Alright, so. Yeah, the poll. What I would like to find out is if any of you ladies have strange characteristics that come about when you are either menstruating or when you are ovulating. Say for instance that you crave apple butter on grilled asparagus and always purchase more light bulbs than necessary when you are on your cycle.

I am really not that interested in the “I hate men and everything is YOUR FAULT!” side of a woman’s cycle because sue me ladies, but I have never been one of those. I know, I know, we all have cramps and all of that. Common knowledge. What I am interested in is the weird shit it does to your personality, buying habits, different senses, sleep cycle and eating/craving behaviors.

Like this morning? I was listening to Herschel on the way in to the office. El Cerrito Place by Charlie Robison popped up out of nowhere. I listened for a little bit and then had to make a mad grab for the iPod at a stop light before the tears started flowing. It would have been unsightly. I felt it coming on and I knew it wasn’t going to be one little fat tear trickling down my cheek and brightening my eyes while I brushed away the traitor to my feelings and of course it would leave my makeup perfectly in check. Oh hell to the no. It would have been a full on snot flinging sob fest. Pretty!

So I know I am a bit more emotional, yeah… whatever. Boring.

The fun stuff?

My sense of smell goes off the freaking charts. Last night I walked into the house after being at the new place for most of the evening. I practically gagged and rushed to the fridge, trash bag in hand, to throw away everything that was in a to-go container, some condiments and a bag of carrots. And some bratwurst. Because it was looking at me funny. I am sure that most everything I tossed was perfectly fine, but it didn’t smell that way to me. Then I freaked out and had to physically restrain myself from some strange nesting instinct to do all of the dishes and clean the kitchen right then, it couldn’t wait.

The hell?

I dry mopped before Mister and I even left the house.

And just before I went to bed, I came flying out of the bathroom in a panic, “Something is on FIRE!” Mister replied, “There was a candle burning, and I blew it out. Downstairs. By my office. Thirty minutes ago.”

So, I know that my sense of smell is all bloodhound when I am ovulating or on my cycle and that I have a strong urge to have everything clean, clean, clean… Go to your closet and pray!

What about ya’ll? Anyone levitate or have an urge to rebuild a carburetor?


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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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