Whore Moans
What is it with hormones and the mind? one would think that hormonal activity would be a physical deal, not a mental one. And yet, point in case, let’s take PMS. Yeah I can hear both groans and cheers from the peanut gallery, but the reality is that hormones must be one of the most powerful hallucinogens known to mankind. What else can cause an average red-blooded male to become the most psyched up individual outside of Mike Tyson OR the horniest animal since the neighbour’s tomcat went on the prowl? Likewise, what else can transform a relatively emotionally stable female into a quivering mass of emotion which alternates from instantaneous fury at a real or imagined slight to a blubbering glob of jello at the sight of a cute cereal commercial. The worst part of all this is that we have no *control*. There have been moments when I have likened the PMS Monster to being a hostage in the mind control room. Along comes this alien who overpowers my mind control organisms, ties them up, gags them, and places them at the back of the Mind Control Room. Great plan … except the interlopers have no clue as to how to run the Mind Control Room and thus they are constantly hitting the wrong buttons [OMG you said my hair looks great today, that MUST mean it looked horrible yesterday!!!], the aliens transform us from powerful, intelligible, organized humanoids into gibbering, emotional, borderline psychotics incapable of fielding a rational thought or emotion. Meantime, in the back of the Mind Control Room we are wriggling and squirming against our restraints and screaming in alarm through our emotional duct-tape-and-sock gags. Fortunately, to make this involuntary process easier our female friends who are at that moment not PMSing [or who have been “fixed”] are of no help at all because away from the clutches of the aliens they have no relativity whatsoever to the kidnap situation. It’s like the aliens inject us with a dose of memory-blocking juice so we won’t remember three weeks from now how emotionally unbalanced we were last month. In addition, the men in our lives fall back on the masculine position of “just because you’re PMSing doesn’t mean *I* can’t be in touch with my Asshole Masculine Side”; this helps especially when the aliens hit the Overreaction Button. What we *really* need at that point is a man, who ordinarily we admire, respect, and care for, to inform us that we are Overreacting to the fact he just casually mentioned he’d like a group orgy with us, our best friend, our sister, our three cousins, and that “cute little gal down the street”. It’s not that we don’t care about your manly fantasies, it’s just that our fantasy at that moment in time of taking a sledgehammer to the nearest brick wall doesn’t necessarily coincide with yours. Don’t even get me started on hitting your sexual peak … whoops, too late! Here you are cruising into your late 30s, early 40s, you are Woman, you have survived perhaps a divorce or two, you have a Career, you have [somewhat] accepted that your body isn’t quite what it was when you were 16. You have learned to love yourself, your chakras are aligned, you have friends of both genders, perhaps you are married and your sex life has gracefully slid into a middle-age routine, or perhaps you are single and have accepted that sex isn’t going to be quite as regular or as exciting any more … ahhh … Serenity … and then KABOOM!!!!!!! your hormones erupt in a magnificent splendour unknown outside of the interior of Mount Vesuvius. Suddenly you are the world’s most intense inside trader and are advising your friends and family to BUY DURACELL! Your boyfriend, ten years your junior, is finding excuses to not come over for several days. Your dog runs away from home. Your kats hide under the bed. Your friends start bandying around the word “nympho”. You have 73 porno websites bookmarked and are looking forward to your daily spam porno mail. Sex, unless it is at LEAST twice a day EVERY day is simply NOT ENOUGH DAMNIT!!!! Ahhhhhhh …. ain’t hormones great?