Two or Three Rants and a PMS pill

Well I'm hot off MSN site and so I have to share the 'Breaking News.' Mr. Cruise has apologized to Brooke Shields. See, I am a fair reporter am I not?

Damn right he apologized. I'd say a year and half late, wouldn't you. However, Mr. Cruise still holds on to his f'd up beliefs. I will not be satisfied until the manic little bastard apologizes publicly for denying the existence of mental illness. If it doesn't exist, what am I tortured by - a vitamin defiency? Idiot. Done, I will say no more.

So, Tart is PMS'ing big time. It does not make it any better than I strongly suspect that that is what is wrong with me, because it is evil just the same. HONestly, isn't it enough that I suffer from emotional disturbance on a daily basis, must I be struck additionally with a monthly scourge? I expect perks when I am given difficulties. Bipolar, yes, with the caveat that I am intellingent (essentially an additional scourge), can write, and got lucky to hook up with good family. Now, where's my frickin' perks for the additional hate that the period reaks upon me?

I just snapped today. It happened early, and I left everyone to fend for themselves for breakfast and everything else for the rest of the day. I guess the perks today for being a PMS Bitch is that I went to a big mall on a Labor Day weekend, (parking in BumF*k and NOT killing anyone :) and bought a new wine colored leather purse (simple, for daily stuff) and matching leather wallet. I also got to talk with my helpful salesperson (UR grate Monique!) who was 9 months pregnant and had a manager come up to us and have the nerve to say, Yes, Monique is a wonderful salesperson, but we wish she could be around more. After which there was an uncomfortable silence. Only later did I think that I *should* have said (watch out) 'Well, I am sure that Monique could work for you a little more often if she wasn't carrying practically full term little human being inside her tired belly and still trying to work for some dickhead that looks like he couldn't even hold a watermelon in his skinny arms for ten minutes.' The minion. I think that would have rocked if I had thought of that at the appropriate time. The customer is always right.

Then I went to a movie. By myself. I think that may have been a first time for me, at least as far as I can remember (two days ago is my limit). I went to see 'Talledaga Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby' an innocuous, funny little film, which is exactly what I was in the mood for.

What I was NOT in the mood for was being subjected to the two trailers of Evil, Possesion and whatever crap that normies-who've-had-no-psychotic experiences-and-thereby-get-off-on-this-crap go to see and being played while *I* came to see something happy/silly/or blissfully stupid. It really makes me angry. Play it for the people who came to see a horror movie. Would you believe they are bringing the Freddie Crueger crap back, as a re-release? I was forced to watch one of these by a 'boyfriend' who thought if a girl was scared she'd need comforting and maybe he could feel her up. How about that crap revisiting when you are sitting alone in the 'quiet room' of your local county or state mental hospital, with no conception of reality and ability to divide your dreams from supposed reality? Yeah, dreams about not going to bed or else you'll be sliced up is not what this Bipolor chick ever needed, 'kay? Darling, where is my award for putting up with this shit?

How can I ever stop being angry? There is just so much. There is no justice in this world, that is abundantly clear. I cannot allow myself to think of the wrongs that have been committed because there is no where to go with that. It just further makes me feel like a freak. Somehow that leads to suicidal thoughts. Boggles the mind, doesn't it? Anger to suicide? I try to be very still at its worst - fear not, blogger friends, I'm not doing it. I stay on so that I can continue to bitch and occasionally remember how much *I* rock for NEVER GIVING UP.

Anyhow, on a lighter note, does anyone know the address of what media mogul I can write to to complain about Satanic trailers being played before my sweet little dumbass family movie and disturbing my delicate sensibilities. And don't think I won't do it either.