Raging

Yes, I'm Raging. It's that time again, for a week of fun-filled PMS.

My mom bought me a particularly hideous shirt. She said it was for an special "dress-up" occasion. I don't know what kind of high-class cocktail parties my mom thinks I'm going to, but I would never wear that shirt even if I did go.

Point being I returned the shirt. I walked in the door at the same time as another guy. I stood in line at the customer service desk. He slightly passed the desk and then came back and stood in line in front of me. He nonchalantly budded in line. I let it go because he was carrying a car seat. Another guy came over and stood off to the side of the line. He made it look like he was in front of me too. I wasn't going to let this happen. Then another customer service rep came to help. The guy off to the side waved me over, so I went. Technically I was the next in line, but the lady first working didn't think so. The guy was getting my money out of the drawer when she loudly said, "Were you next? There is a line here!" I looked at her, grabbed my money and left. It took all of 5 seconds to take care of me and then I was gone. GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

I decided I would go to the grocery store and buy some cheese pizza, turkey pepperoni, and some diet soda. That's the PMS diet. I encountered another muslim sister. Did she return my salaam? Certainly not. She stared at me as though I were some freak in a freakshow. Double GRRRRR! It's quite obvious that I'm muslim. I'm covered. Why not return a sister's salaam? I don't get it.

I wish I could have bought a regular Mountain Dew, chock full of sugar! I even passed up the chocolate. I'm putting black olives and the turkey pepperoni on my pizza.....mmmmm. Gotta love the PMS.