A breakthrough like no other

So there I was, sitting at my desk at work, tears streaming down my face, hating the world for all its imperfections when suddenly, a lightbulb went off over my head (well, I was actually cropping a .jpg of one in photoshop, but that worked too). I said to myself, "Hey Jess, remember that birth control pill you were on two years ago where all you did was cry and rage and wish maiming upon everyone that crossed your path?"

So there it is. I am pill crazy. Again. And I'm getting all sorts of puffy to boot. The pill I'm on, Yasmin, is supposed to be a miracle pill. For six months, it was. But month by month, my PMS has gotten longer and more intense. This month, it hit the two-week mark. Two weeks of PMS. The poor boyfriend. Pre-pill, PMS was two days at most.

I called my gynecologist, who I affectionately refer to as "the bot". I beg for another pill. She tells me, in her German accented monotone, that if I can't take this pill, I can't take any. I'm now going to start the patch - we'll see how that goes. I would try the NuvaRing, but in all honesty, after 10 years I still haven't mastered the tampon.

Tati and I once had a brilliant idea for a phone with a breathalizer built into it. If your blood-alcohol content was past a certain point, you could not make phone calls. I'm an incorrigible drunk dialer. And drunk emailer. And drunk IM-er as well, I'm afraid. But, I'm even worse with the PMS. I need a PMS cell phone, with text messaging block. Time to go make my apologies to the boyfriend.