7:26 p.m. When you're in the fits of pms it's not wise to watch the news, America's Next Top Model, or leave the house.

I need to write a big P on the back of my hand to remind myself constantly that I'm bitchy.annoyed.angry.witchy. because of the pms.

I found a 'pms' pill in the bathroom cupboard. A pill to chill, I suppose. I took it with no effects. A placebo, perhaps? A joke on all the women who desperately want to get out of their bitchy state?

I thought exercise would help, but it didn't do much other than make my muscle a little tender.

On a happier note, I received my income tax return in the mail. It's tempting to go out and blow it on a new wardrobe (pmsing, right? so everything looks crappy, malfitting, etc). But I need to open up a savings account for Italy. Whenever I think of it, I smile. Kinda stupidly, actually. Never good to rush time, but September won't come soon enough.

***
I subscribed to the movie network over the weekend so Matt and I could watch the season premiere of the Sopranos. I'm addicted and the opening episode did not disappoint.

Time to hit the mall with Ames.

n@s