Is There a Mood Whisperer in the House?

By Tonia

"When I was a boy, my mother wore a mood ring. When she was in a good mood it turned blue. In a bad mood, it left a big red mark on my forehead." - Jeff Shaw

Confession. Recently I was a bit grumpy……OK, more than grumpy….. bitchy. I’m not usually a mood swinger but I definitely had a foul-assed mood when several home disasters hit me one right after another. I was so irritable I didn’t want to be around anyone, including myself. I just didn’t have enough middle fingers to truly express myself. I fantasized about putting barbed wire around my office and a voice message on my phone saying, “I’m having a really bad life right now. Call back in 2 years.”  And you know that whole “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade” idea? I just wanted to squirt that damn lemon juice into someone’s open sore.

Most women know something about irritability – when the Mood Contaminating Fairy spreads her bitchy dust. It’s usually because a significant other isn’t listening to us, or when no one is grateful for our hard work or when we’ve got too much to do.……and, well…….and when we have a bad hair day and feel fat and have a new zit….. 

So what does one do to feel better when a mood makes Grumpy Cat look like Little Miss Sunshine?

Experts recommend exercise. I guess it’s hard to feel blue when your face is all red. Or maybe all that heavy breathing makes us smile when we remember other adventures in heavy breathing!

Doing something novel is also supposed to be a good pick-me-up. I don’t think driving blindfolded would be a good novel activity for me (too much like the way I drive already). Maybe decorate my vibrator in various “outfits” to leave messages for the boyfriend…..

Professionals also suggest humor to combat irritability. When bad things happen we’re supposed to ask ourselves, “How can I see this as funny?” OK. I’ll give it a try. When the tornado blows my roof off I can say, “Guess that whirlwind romance did some damage!” and when my sewer collapses I can say, “Well, shit!” Uh. Guess I’ll work on that some more. Maybe I’ll just imagine a T-Rex trying to masturbate instead.

And, finally, counting one’s blessings is supposed to be helpful in lifting our spirits. I’m seriously thankful for my girlfriends and how they have inspired and supported me through ALL of my moods!

OH! And I’m also thankful that I’m not pregnant…..

For your next girlfriends’ get together take a hike together (remember: exercise) and talk about all the irritating people in your lives who you’d like to “take a hike!”

A Concrete Example of a Semi-Empowered Woman

By Tonia

“If at first you don't succeed, remove all evidence you ever tried. ”― David Brent 

I recently decided to renovate my garage and turn it into a studio apartment. Simple enough. Just add plumbing, electricity, walls and cupboards, right? Except that - There. Were. Problems. At. Every. Step. Of. The. Way. And those problems transmogrified into a mammoth vacuum that sucked my bank account dry.

By the time the floor was ready to be done, I was broke. Not one to shy away from a little challenge like pennilessness, I decided I could level the concrete floor and paint it myself. A DIY project! An I am Woman; Hear me Roar project! Never mind I had just learned that screw drivers weren’t really paint can openers ….. 

So, after 1,538,982 trips to Lowes and several YouTube videos, I was ready. I bought my concrete and 5 gallon bucket; I rented the recommended 800 RPM drill to mix it. I had no idea what 800 RPM meant but, hey, it had two handles and looked like a jack hammer. ROOOAAAARRR!

I went out to the garage apartment, poured the concrete into the bucket, added water (“Just like baking a cake,” I thought), stuck the drill bit into it (“Just like a mixer,” I thought) and turned it on. Holy hijacked high ten! That bastard lifted my arms into the air, whirled the bucket around like an Oklahoma tornado and attacked every wall in the room with concrete. Newly painted walls, I might add.

After I frantically grabbed every available item within my reach and cleaned up splatters of concrete E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E, I made two decisions: do this outside and hold that damn bucket down. Since I was by myself I straddled the bucket between my legs and grabbed that drill tight <insert naughty comments here>. I tried again. This time that motherfucker snatched the bucket out from between my legs and smashed it into my shin.

I looked around and decided that 800 RPMs might be stronger than me but it certainly wasn’t stronger than my fence post. So I wedged one handle of the drill against the post and went at it again. By God, THIS time the drill wouldn’t fling the bucket. But, as revenge, that #*^@ drill went straight through the bottom of the bucket and concrete oozed out all over the grass. I grabbed my patio ice bucket to save whatever concrete I could.

For most people this would have been enough but I had come too far on this apartment to stop now. So I ignored the directions on the concrete (ain’t nobody got time for dat!) and added more water to my mixture and simply mixed it with my bare hands. It poured beautifully. And, best of all, it dried!

After it was all over my sister made a list of all the items that gave their lives for my DIY project. A moment of silence please for…..

2 buckets

1 ice bucket

1 blanket

2 bath towels

10 rolls of paper towels

2 butter knives

1 steak knife

1 glass

1 Vitamin water

10 fingernails

1 section of grass

1 shin

1 bank account

1 mind

And my advice for your next girlfriends’ get-together? Hire a sexy construction guy……and watch him work while sipping margaritas!