George Carlin had a bit about the potency of farts — eg, “A fart that could eat the stitching out of Levi’s,” or “A fart that could end a marriage.”
And even though I don’t make fart jokes because I AM A LADY, my mind wandered to Carlin today, high fived that bit, and ended up here…
The kind of cramps where you Google a diagram of the human body so you know for sure which organs are absolutely going to fall out of your body at some point today.
The kind of cramps where you’ve never seen the movie Alien, but you just know something similar is happening in your abdomen.
The kind of cramps where you sing along with that country song about shootin’ your husband and really mean it, even though you’re single, because you just know, somewhere, somehow, a man is responsible for this. (JK, men — please come have sex with me in 3-4 days.)
The kind of cramps where you apologize to your liver in advance, because today’s definitely an Advil with a Bayer chaser kinda day. With Aleve sprinkles.
The kind of cramps where you’re like, “Fuck ME, did I eat knives that I forgot about?!”
The kind of cramps where “Fuck YOU, this chocolate muffin I’m eating for dinner is medicinal.”