Be My Downfall by Del Amitri (that’s the song whose lyrics I’ve been quoting in the titlebar of my entries lately, if you were wondering), I did something really crazy and actually looked at the file options on Wave Player, and realized I could not only set a playlist but set it to play randomly. D’oh! Don’t I feel like a dumbass. That’s what I get for being a lazy-ass bitchypoo. Are bras the most torturous devices on the face of the earth, or what? I wish I was flat-chested and could go without altogether, but I always feel incredibly exposed any time I even try. Fred will tell you – I won’t even make a run to the McDonald’s drive-thru without a bra. However, there comes a certain moment every month wherein I cannot stand to be bound by the hideous thing one instant longer, and so I quietly slip my bra off, and hide it in a desk drawer. As long as I’m sitting at my desk, I feel safe. If I have to run out on an errand, I put it back on, then take it off once I’m back at my desk. I generally do this two or three days every month, then go back to full-time support once my PMS bloat has passed. Fred accuses me of always blaming everything on my menstrual cycle. When the cats act crazy, I suggest it’s due to the estrogen floating in the air, when I’m in a bad mood, I claim my period is only days away, and when it rains outside, I swear god hates it when I’m on the rag. What can I say? The sooner he realizes that the world revolves around my menstrual cycle and I, the better off he’ll be. Don’tcha think? ]]>