Hormones, Unbelievable

How is it that I can go from a well-meaning, sweet-but-loud-mouthed pregnant woman to a fire breathing, boiling cauldron of anger and disdain?

Hormones my friends, hormones. It has crossed my mind multiple times this afternoon to hurl my shiny chrome stapler at one of my coworkers. He has done nothing wrong (except to exist and to make crappy small talk with me- OH and did I mention his squeaky shoes?). Every time he comes up to my desk (while waiting to go out on a smoke break) he tries to make casual conversation. I am not in the mood. I don't care. Go away. I am going to throw stuff at you if you do not get out of my face. Take you squeaky shoes and stinky Camel smoking breath as far away from me as you possibly can.. In fact, don't even look at me on your way out. Leave me the hell alone... Or suffer a stapler shaped dent in the side of your giant square head.

Now really, would a rational person feel these things or say such things in their head? No, probably not... But a hormonal pregnant woman would. And in fact- if this genius comes up to my desk, and my obvious disinterest does not dissuade him from talking to me, bad things could happen.

Hopefully I can keep my mouth shut and my hands busy doing other things (like blogging!). I am sure this will pass and in about 30 minutes my hormones will have me swinging the other way and I will want to hug everyone in the office and in my endorphin laced stupor say something cliche like "I love you man..."

I am the drunk dude at a college frat party... You know the one- the beligerent ass who is rude after one or two drinks, but is your best friend after he has throughouly marinated his liver... Yes- that is me... Except I am carrying the hope of the future in my belly, whereas the frat boy probably carries something more like cirrohsis in his...

I want a cheese burger and onion rings.