PMS and Politics

I'm not too proud of it, but I am an extremely competitive person. Anyone who has ever played games with me can attest to that, and I'm very glad those who I've played Mario Kart Wii online have not heard the sort of expletives that's escaped my lips in the heat of racing. It's very smart on Nintendo's part that players cannot input their own online messages to others - the game's most aggressive messages being "Grr...Darn it!" and "Funky Stadium!" which is passable. No message can't convey my sentiment when I really want to say, "Your perfectly-placed banana peel on that turn put me into such a rage that I want to see your smug Mii's face as a pixelated pulp!!!"

Though I don’t consider myself a political junkie, I think electing the next US President is a big deal, and I, like many people in the US and the world, had a great deal of particular interest in this year's presidential election. People are entitled to their views and opinions, but I was rooting for one candidate over the other, and though I tried to remain practical and aware that the election could have easily gone to either candidate, as soon as the guy I was rooting for was gaining a formidable lead, I started to become pretty darn excited that in my mind, thinking "My Team" was winning.

It should also be mentioned this competitive nature of mine becomes even more pronounced when a healthy dose of Premenstrual Syndrome and hormones is thrown in the mix. That mentioned, I'm in the full throes of "That Time of the Month."

Let's add to the fact that I was stuck in LA traffic as most of the polls started closing and reporting yesterday, and as each projection was announced, it took a lot of constraint to not honk my horn and start screaming, perhaps finding another nearby sharing similar sentiment. It was better I was alone in the car during this time, for I probably would have exerted some sort of physical reaction onto them, like several punches to the arm or a sloppy kiss to the face, whichever struck me at the moment (yes, while driving).

Once our next president was announced, I was in the company of others who shared similar excitement and sentiment as I, but perhaps not as much as I managed to restrain. I think I was so happy, I could have collapsed someone’s ribcage in a bonecrushing hug, patted someone’s back so hard to induce coughing up a lung, and as I sat there listening to our President-elect, I had to curb my desire to take the wine glass in my hand outside, smash it against the concrete and dance upon its shards in some twisted form of cathartic joy.

It goes without saying I’m VERY happy of this election’s outcome, and am particularly happy that things didn’t turn out in the other guy’s favor; for I am honestly afraid to think how I would have reacted to that.