My hormones are a fucking minefield, apparently.

And that minefield is the reason I should never, ever be allowed to be President.  Because at ten o’clock this morning,  I would have bombed the fuck out of somewhere.  But first I would have fucked all the attractive semi-attractive decent-enough men and consumed their supply of chocolate.  Then I would have bawled my eyes out.

I had to work at 7 am.  Ouch, you say.  But nowadays, as long as I have my venti-nonfat-hazelnut-latte within arm’s length, I am golden.  Content, even.  (This is because I don’t have to talk to anybody for a good two hours.) Today, somewhere around ten o’clock, I snapped.  I had about half the time left for the work I had to do before we opened.     caught me pouting and struggling to tape up various merch signs in Gaming.  Bless his heart, he helped me out tremendously.  As a result of his kindness, I actually kind of teared up a little, because that was so nice. He is probably the only person at work that is intuitive enough to know when I am entirely all too frustrated.  I love you, Eddie!

My behavior was ruled by four emotions today: Happy, Sad, Horny, Mad.  They were 100% one or another, and they just cycled through every twenty minutes or so.  It’s completely out of my control, — I imagine that my unpredicable mood swings are confusing as hell to the audience of my antics.  I just can’t figure out a way to curb them.  They say reduction of caffeine helps, but c’mon people, let’s be serious. *sips Vault*