all aboaaarrrdd the pms express
I'm generally not big on chocolate and other sweet treats. That's not to say I don't appreciate milky creamy chocolate melting in my mouth (as well as in my hands), but I tend toward salt and savory - and, well let's just call a spade a hoe (that's no hoe that's my garden shovel), I'm primarily drawn to carbohydrates.
BTW- if you can find a copy of Dolly Parton's 'PMS Blues' you really must listen to it. Pathetically on-target and deeply laughable material she produced there.
KD knows I'm not a big chocolate freak but she also knows me well enough to grasp the cycle of premenstrual blues that inevitably strikes, because even when I know to expect it, like a nuclear attack that we all know some fool will accidentally initiate, I don't really know precisely when to anticipate the mood swing and always always it strikes hard and fast out of nowhere.
And she also has unfortunate intimate knowledge of the shocking proportion of my crappy piss on all y'all attitude I spit at her for no other reason than she happens to be sitting next to me. Or looking at me. Or sitting next to me AND looking at me, undoubtedly planning her escape plan for the moment I have to recharge either the stink eye or my flame thrower. It's rarely personal, these fits and bouts I have, but she rarely deserves the doody casserole I serve up.
There can be very little wrong with chocolates in a chocolate container, though I hope to have enough restraint to prevent myself from eating the entire lid whole.