Just because Halloween’s over doesn’t mean all scary things have to be packed away.

Picture this: it’s a cold, dark, rainy night. I’m in my jammies, on the couch, under my favorite blanket, watching the election results and playing Words With Friends during commercial breaks.

My husband gets up to grab a snack. “Want anything?” he sweetly asks.

“Yeah. How about a handful of Peppermint Patties from the freezer. And a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. Hey, do we have any beef jerky?”

“Oh.” His tone drops. “Okay.”

We’ve been married for fifteen years. He knows what this means.  

The Bearded Iris: PMS - its coming from inside the house!

As if me bursting into tears earlier that day over a Folgers commercial wasn’t enough of a red flag.

And then this happened on Twitter…

Just teared up at the commercial for the Abraham Lincoln movie. PMS and this election really have me jacked up.
Mary Burt-Godwin


And I was all, “Oh Thank GOD I’m not the only one.” Which is reason #472 why I love Twitter so much. Instant support group. Fo’ free!

In fact, a bunch of other gals jumped right in to reply to Mary’s confession and we started our own impromptu PMS Club…as hormonally charged women are wont to do:

Seriously. THIS? This is how you make new friends on Twitter, for those of you who have told me you just can’t get into it. Just look for opportunities to interact. Sometimes people respond, sometimes they don’t. But when they do? It can be really fun, and/or comforting.

A few more gals appeared with great offers for what they’d like to bring to our burgeoning PMS Party. @JulieTheWife was ready and willing with her T-Pain microphone and a flame thrower. HOLLA! That girl clearly knows how to par-tay. @JustUsChicks and @AuthorJenTucker chimed in with things like Fritos and wine. Someone may or may not have offered to bring a chainsaw. A screening of The Notebook was planned, complete with spooning. And at one point Mary shared that she has a gold tooth. It was off the hook, y’all.

And all of it was way more fun than biting my nails over the electoral college or skinning my husband and wearing his furry pelt as a cape. (Animal prints are so hot right now, don’t you know.)

But it got me thinking. We should probably establish some rules to our new PMS Club. Here’s my first draft. It might sound a little familiar…

First Rule of PMS Club: You do not talk about PMS Club.

Second Rule: You DO NOT talk about PMS CLUB.

Third Rule: If someone yells “stop,” goes limp, or bursts into tears, just back off.

Fourth Rule: There are no wrong food combinations, only insufficient quantities.

Fifth Rule: If provoked, use one weapon at a time, ladies. And try to make it look like self defense or an accident.

Sixth Rule: No bras, no shoes.

Seventh Rule: PMS will go on as long as we say it does.

Eighth Rule: If this is your first night at PMS Club, you have to bring enough Percocet for everyone.

What am I missing? And what are you bringing to the PMS Party?!

By the way, if you’re looking for some funny women to follow on Twitter, I highly recommend the founding members of the PMS Club. You can follow all of them here. And please join in the fun! If you’ve ever dipped Slim Jims in melted chocolate, cried over a Today Show segment about holiday crafts, or wondered about the pros and cons of premeditated homicide, you’ll fit right in.

Now please hand me my hot water bottle and get the hell out of my way before I cut you.