So on Thursday when I was sitting at the dining room table all creating life in my notebooks and everything while I listened to The Essential Willie Nelson (recently purchased for a rock bottom price at Encore Records in Ann Arbor Mi) and that classic torch song You Were Always on My Mind started to play and me, I seriously started to cry. My nose started to twitch and then my eyes watered and I was crying! Seriously Willie, why you gotta pull that shit? I was shocked at such a display, true it was a private display, but I was shocked nonetheless. Later in the day while I considered ripping out the throat of anyone, yes anyone at all, small children and old kindly women were not exempt, who dared to call me on my office line to you know ask questions about my job and how to use the database or you know ask me to do any of the things I am paid to do I realized that maybe Willie was not entirely to blame. Maybe, just maybe, I was suffering from PMS.
And now as I think about this and suffer from the cramps that herald the end of PMS and the beginning of 5-7 days of ache I realize that I have never had a stupid name for my period. Maybe I'll call it Flo occasionally or My Monthly Visitor when I am feeling all retro or when I make fun of Mrs Biddle my 9th grade gym teacher I call it "that ti-yime of the muhnth" in an exaggerated southern accent but that's only because I'm in character. Anyhow, I think I may call my period Willie from now on, just when I'm in mixed company mind, when it's just me and Jeremy I shall continue on referring to it as this curse of Eve sent down by that bastard god to punish me for daring to be born a woman, but like that's too long for when I just need to say something like, "Oh Willie's in town, better stock up on the Feminax." And really, Willie and my period are the only two characters in my life who can reduce me to tears without even the tiniest notice.

Probably, I should never put disc 2 of The Essential Willie Nelson on random play. The results could be dangerous.