Ordinarily, I consider myself a pleasant person to be around. I've got a sense of humor, I try to be compassionate, and conversations seem to come easily to me. I'd like to hang out with me.
But every 28 days or so, all that changes.
At the risk of being distasteful, I will spare the details of my monthly visits from Aunt Flo. Suffice it to say, that when she's around, I transfom. The fun, cool Bonnie goes into hiding, and another side of me emerges.
I become the Dragon Lady.
As the Dragon Lady, I have no sense of humor. I have zero compassion. I'd just as soon spit on you than have any sort of dialogue with you. I will over-analyze everything that every carbon-based form says or does, and I will over-react to those things that have been said or done. Do not attempt humor; this has been tried before, and resulted in blood and tears. Do not try to reason with me; my logical processing has blown a fuse and is not currently in operation. Do not try to calm me or sympathize with me; these actions show weakness, which only feeds my primal hunting instinct and may end in your demise.
In short - stay away. Far away. As far as you can get. Nepal would be good. Pluto would be better.
And if you value your miserable existance at all, you won't come back without a 12 lb. brick of chocolate.
Bonnie is dead. The Dragon Lady has eaten her. But do not mourn for your friend. In five to seven days, she will be reborn. She will emerge, as a phoenix from the ashes, good as new, if not rather ashamed or embarassed of her previous dragon-esque exploits. Please forgive her for her crimes against you -- remember, without awful Aunt Flo, none of this would have happened in the first place.
But in the meantime, maintain your distance. The Dragon Lady is hungry.
No comments:
Post a Comment