Can I tell you how much I wish I was living alone. Tonight Marti, Bob and I went out for dinner. Originally it was just going to be Bob and I but Marti got invited along. The drama queen started the meal out with trying to get Bob to tell us about the girls he hooked up with in Ireland (wouldn't surprise me if she did that on purpose). This was the first I had heard anything about that. Don't get me wrong, I'm not naive. Shoot, if I would have stayed awake the first night we were there you're darn skippy I would have gotten myself a little bit of Irish ass. Sigh. I just didn't want to hear it though. Know what I mean? She finished by saying she was sick and she had a fever and her stomach hurt and blah, blah, blah. I just sat there and ate. I didn't say a word.

The PMS is not helping. My mood swings are just the worst, one minute I'm on top of the world and the next I feel like I want to just crawl right into bed, pull the covers over my head and not come out for a month. Deep down I know this whole thing will pass in a week or two but in the end it doesn't. The whole feeling of defeat just sticks with me no matter how much I try to put out the positive vibe.

Of course that would be alone. Because there is not a single man on the face of the earth that finds me attractive. No really. I know when to give up. So here I go, I'm throwing in the towel. From now on I'm not even trying.

Sigh, I just need a vacation from my life.