Licking cheese.

Licking the cheese from the scalloped border of your fast-food nacho tray can only be justified in one of three ways:

1. You're a small child who doesn't know that it's DISGUSTING,
2. You're homeless and starving, and those remaining smudges of cheese may provide enough calories to get you through another cold night,
3. You have screaming PMS, for which the only cure is nacho cheese.

I fell under #3 this evening.
It wasn't pretty.

Typically, about three days before renewing my female vows each month, the Id-monster-Mandi comes out to pillage and plunder my somewhat organized life. She eats everything that isn't nailed down, she cries at *every* commercial (as opposed to just the really touching ones), and she quickly loses her patience with idiots and bad drivers. Id-Mandi splurges on cute little sequined tops, but then only wears sweatshirts. She is a sensitive creature, who wonders why you're looking at her "like that". Last time I checked in on her, she was sitting in front of my computer, wearing sweatpants and eating a bowl full of croutons. But come tomorrow morning, I'll be stuck with 3,000 extra calories making a home on my hips and a new charge on my credit card, and she'll be nowhere in sight.

Jesus, no wonder men don't understand women. We're insane.