Few, if any of you out there have had the pleasure of a verbal exchange with me. You’ve all just read my written word, which makes me sound a lot nicer since I have the chance to censor it before I post it. But during one special 5-7 days every month, I can get pretty mean. I say things that I don’t want to. Stephen came up with a lovely name for my affliction: TMS.
The other night we were discussing the Pythagorean theorem, and it was a very lively discussion (yeah, weird, I know). It’s not a subject which particularly displeases me, yet during the course of our conversation I let slip several words which are normally filtered by a little voice in my mind which warns “No, no dear. Not out loud”. I also had a lot of unclean adjectives regarding the assembly process of the complicated little pieces of paper inviting a large number of people to our blessed event (see previous post).
Stephen commented, “Honey, you’ve got a dirty mouth tonight!”
I glowered silently at him (it’s supposed to be a warning, but I think it comes off sort of cute, thereby defeating my purpose and further frustrating me).
He, not heeding the warning, added “Maybe you’ve got turrets. TMS.”
Me: What’s TMS?
Stephen: Turrets Menstrual Syndrome.
Fantastic! A stroke of genius. Maybe I should put out an infomercial on youtube. Studies show approximately 75% of women suffer from this disease* Ladies, do you feel frustrated by the cold, hard world? Are you sometimes unable to express your emotion without the use of obscenities? Are your hormones waging a war within you against your self-control, logic, and sense? You may have TMS*.
*These statements have not been reviewed or approved by the FDA and are, in fact, not based on any real studies.
From now on, when chided for foul language, I will claim TMS, and “I’m a little sensitive about it, if you don’t mind…”