Well, today I want you to stand up and hold your hands in some stupid symbols./ You’re going to get up and scream./You’re going to get up and burn an “X” in your head...
-White Zombie, Real Solution #9

Today, it might well be hormonal - but I feel like going on a rump roast rampage, and biting every male authority figure in the butt. Especially the one who calls me "ma'am". Goddamnit, I'm THIRTY, you twat! Now f--- me or I'll stab you in the back with this pointy cat turd I just so happen to have here in my pocket.

Yes, I'm stark, raving, violently slap-happy today, ready to pelt your unsuspecting juicybutt with small lumps of dried feces, if necessary. But only if you are 1) male, and 2) pissing me off, such as by having a penis and refusing to share. Selfish rat bastids-!

Thanks to the Joy of Menstruation, today my transformation into The Crazy Cat Lady is complete-! RRROOOOOOWWWRRRRRR-!!!

Evidence:
1) I will fucking kill you for calling me a crazy cat lady.

2) We need to buy a cat flap to keep the air conditioning in the bedroom! Except I think we need a bigger one, 'cuz this cat looks stuck! How do we know it's not a cat slicer-dicer...?

3) I couldn't get this damn song out of my head this morning as I was biking to work, wondering whether the sudden cramping was from gas or...

Or...(.) But enough about my "."

Er, as some of you may know, I do not enjoy graphic descriptions of sex, particularly when I know, but am not attracted to, the person(s) involved. It is basically a visual I don't want, and about as sexy to me as the slime from the slobber from one of the aliens from the Aliens! movies. In sum, I would rather hear a nice shit story. At least everybody shits, and I don't have to picture gross people doing it. Hwarf.

Such unwelcome images are like the ones in this song. This song is possibly the most disgusting song ever written by The Red Hot Chili Peppers, who I used to like before they got all corporate rock-y (I love it when rich people sing about their problems) and the lead singer refused to sleep with me. Never mind that I've never met him - HE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN.

And if I ever did uh, "meat" Anthony K., I would have to gently throttle him for being responsible for the following lyrics (I apologize in advance to any lurking aunts and/or 15 year-old girls):

Deep inside the garden of Eden
Standing there with my hard-on bleedin'

MAKE IT STOP...!

...there's a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen!

QUiiiiiiT IT...!

Booty looking too good not to be squeezin'!

(Hi, Mom...!)

THIS IS THE WORST SONG EVER...! And here comes the worst part...!

Creamy beaver, hotter than a fever-!

Seriously, you guys? This pops into my head at the least appropriate times. Unfortunately, it rhymes, and it's damned catchy, but I cannot be grocery shopping with my grandma when creamy beaver, hotter than a fever! pops up. It is just not right.

Grandma: We need what...?!?

I do not want creamy beaver! Hotter than a fever! any time, not really. If I wanted that shit, I would have gone to Catholic school...!

(I am not saying that I have never had creamy beaver, hotter than a fever! I am just saying that creamy beaver, hotter than a fever! is fucking with my mind, and, unlike only rock 'n roll, I don't like it.)

Creamy beaver, hotter than a fever!, you are no longer welcome in my cabeza. GET OUT. Do I have to hire an exorcist, or what...?

Moral of story? Never listen to this song, which is from Blood Sugar Sex Magik (not a diabetic treatment - fuck you, Yahoo!) [PARENTAL ADVISORY - EXPLICIT LYRICS] by The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Thank you.

I will now run down the hall in search of juicy, tender, male loins and butts to bite, nonsensically yelling the other most inappropriate thing I can think of:

Boy cock, girl cock, E-I-E-I-O! - some guy on Curb Your Enthusiasm.

Don't ask.