Aislinn the Albino Bean

Dis one, is fo all da ladies out der.
Se que solo ustedes me entenderán... oh the wonder and hell one endures, just for being a woman...
Picture the Albino Bean, sitting quaintly at her desk, basking in the glow of the previous weekends shenanigans, when, all of a sudden, out of the blue she is overtaken with the unmistakable yet always present bitch factor... but this isn’t your normal bitch factor... this is the *if you play that lame ass Chayane CD one more fucking time, I’m going to jump up on your desk and gouge your eyes out with this rusty fork* bitchiness... Why so much aggression? At this point in our little story, not even she knows... that day, she picks fights with everyone in the office, for absolutely no reason other than she feels like being pissed off. She goes home in a cloud of disdain for her coworkers, but at the same time trying to rationalize what’s the matter... and then she gets it. She understands it all and feels ridiculously stereotypical: she was having female problems... the pre-menstrual kind.
She gets home, and like clockwork, feels the first cramp. Motherfucker!
What’s a girl to do? Put on the teapot, and bring on the sweat pants. She sat in her little apartment, with a cup of english tea with milk, legs curled up beneath her, muttering obscenities the whole evening, staring at the TV, but not really watching it. The next morning, the bitchiness is gone, but is replaced by more cramps, bloating and slight depression (...the kind that makes you cry when you watch sappy commercials for the phone company). Nothing fits and she feels like shit.
The next couple of days are the same, but are gradually reduced, until that fateful and lovely last day... that day when she has eyes for no one else in the world but her self. She’s gorgeous. She feels every single inch of her girlyness and fucking loves it!... She can do no wrong. No body else can, for that matter. Fluttery eyelashes, glossy lips, sparkly eyes, flowers in her hair.... and the she starts thinking *hey this chick stuff ain’t so bad after all*.
And just think... we only go through it once a month.