Oh my God, you guys, I feel elderly. Everyone must stop having shows and things immediately. Also, they must provide me with a vacation home in which to recuperate. Or perhaps — this is my favorite idea — I will be hospitalized for “exhaustion.” Do you think those hospitals issue you silk nighties in which to lounge? It seems like they should.
Meanwhile, because I know you’re all fascinated with my menstrual cycle and cannot rest until you get the update — “Where is she? Is it Aunt Flo time? Mid-month? How crazy is crazy? How seriously should we take any of her bullshit anyway?” — I have the worst case of PMS and am now so looney that I’ve decided that I am probably going to die of liver failure before the week is out. This is because I pulled a muscle doing sit-ups, and now I have a twinge in my side. It might be the side my liver is on. I don’t know anatomy.
I was explaining about my liver to a couple friends the other night, appropriately enough over drinks and one of them said, as if just at the moment having the realization, “Oh my God. You actually are crazy, aren’t you?”