2:12 pm | 20 August 2003 | two things i'd rather get punched than experience again

1. Today i have the sort of cramps that approximate the sensation of a fork shredding flesh, but as my uterus is neither barbacoa nor jerk chicken, it hardly seems appropriate. This does, however, explain the increased amounts of self-loathing (97%, up from the usual 92% or so) that have sunk my battleship as of late. Every month I forget about PMSing, somehow--it's been ten years and every month I experience that moment of epiphany. "Say! This is why i've been cranky, fat, hungry, and weepy! I mean, crankier, fatter, hungrier, and weepier! Hot dog!"

2. In other news, today I also derangedly attempted to crack wise with a 150-strong passel of stultified parents. I flung open the door of the room where they chatted loudly amongst themselves. "Good afternoon!" I shouted to no effect over their accent-betwanged din. "Hey! Hey dudes!" They quieted slowly. 150 various bad haircuts swivelled my way. "Hi!" I shouted desperately, fueled by exhaustion, poverty, antsiness, and a new aggressive strain of misanthropy. "I'm Claudia, the Special Events Coordinator here! And for the next approximately three-and-a-half minutes I am going to coordinate, uh, you!" It sounded kind of dirty. "What's happening is this! We need to switch locations in an orderly fashion! So we are going to have a...a..." I cast desperately for a word that was fun and comprehensible. "...a parade! Yes! And en route we will pass both the office of the school newspaper, and the restrooms! It will thrill and edify you! So, uh, follow me, okay?" Crickets chirped in the background as mouths gaped open. My voice was tinged with desperation and thirst for alcohol. "Okay?!?!" I wailed, brink-of-hysterically, and they nodded slowly, first a few, then all of them, just like the end of an 80s movie, and began rising zombiedly from their chairs.

It is with regret that I inform you that we then proceeded to have a parade.