THE COMPLETE IDIOT'S GUIDE TO PMS

You know...I think I'm beginning to get a grasp on this whole PMS thing you gals like to have.

First off, I know EXACTLY what you're going through.

Often times, I feel bloated and gassy and guilty and underpaid and oversexed and emotional too.

I DO!

Heh...I LOVE that joke.

Actually ... PMS must suck. I have no idea what it can be like.

NONE.

Oh sure...I could sit in a corner with my legs spread while pro bowlers practice their bowling techniques on my groin from across the room repeatedly.

But is that REALLY going to make you feel better??

Well...I can think of one woman in this house who'd feel a whole lot better if I let my dick become a human bowling pin.

After being puzzled all day as to why Mrs. Bob was all huffy, she finally admitted over dinner that she thinks she has PMS.

Well hallefuckinlujah. I woulda sworn she found my deck of "nasty" cards that I've got hidden in the tool box, judging from the way she's been stomping around all day.

I must admit, I've become somewhat of an expert on how to handle someone while PMS-ing. Through years of intense research and dodging the random flying kitchen appliance, I have managed to compile a book's worth of material for men who are finding themselves dealing with PMS for the first time.

And let's be honest...we deal with that shit as kids. Mothers with PMS are just as bad as wives with PMS. Gadzooks...my mom used to come after us with knives when we were kids if we raised our voice above a whisper.

Knives, I'm tellin' ya.

Why...she pulled a gun on me when I was seven.

Yup.

Sho' did.

Right between the eyes. I'll never forget her chilling words "You'll eat the broccoli. And you will LIKE the broccoli."

*shudder*

Damn you Mom. Damn you straight to HELLLLLLL!!!!!

Actually...if I could, I'd like to retract the whole "damning Mom to Hell" line. I don't want Mom going to Hell. Even Satan doesn't deserve that cruel of a punishment.

Have you noticed that I get off on at least ONE tangent per entry?

It's this little box we have to type in...I'm tellin' ya. I have the attention span of a lab rat.

Some of the questions in my book:

Q: My wife is PMS-ing. What should I do?

A: Road trip to Milwaukee.

Q: Do women's feet really hurt when they're PMS-ing?

A: No. That's an old wives tale. Women will tell you that their feet are swollen and hurt because the majority of women out there are foot massage sluts. They'll say or do anything for a foot massage and since men don't know a thing about PMS, they take advantage of that and fool us into massaging their paws.

Which also explains why many lesbians are cranky. They can't fool anyone into giving them a foot massage.

Q: What do you feed a woman who is PMS-ing?

A: Anything she wants. Can't you fucking hear???

Q: My wife won't stop crying and is blaming her period on me. What should I do?

A: Take responsibility for the period, last week's burnt pot roast, the botched honeymoon plans and JFK Jr's plane going down. And get the woman a damned Kleenex, Romeo.

Q: My wife swears her clothes won't fit her when she's bloated. Should I buy her a whole new "period" wardrobe?

A: Did you really have to ask?

Q: What does it mean when a woman says she needs a Tampon?

A: It means your parents really sheltered your poor ass.

Q: I can't stand it when my wife picks fights with me during her PMS. How can I curb her bad temper during this period?

A: Hey...how 'bout a road trip to Milwaukee??

There's plenty more questions that I get around to answering but I'm out of time here.

Well...I'm not REALLY out of time.

But there's a squawling bitch out on the couch that is screaming she needs her feet massaged.