Don't mess with PMS

I moved to Las Vegas with my boyfriend when I turned 21. He was a royal a-hole to incredible extremes. He was mean- like vindictive, purposeful kind of mean.

He lost his job in Vegas after a few months there because he fell asleep at the wheel driving a work truck. He was tested for drugs and he loved smoking the reefer. It's pretty difficult to get a good job in Vegas if you can't test clean for drugs.

So he got odd jobs- working at an arcade and at a gas station. He kept quitting these jobs because they were too hard or too easy or something. On one of his breaks between jobs, he decided to go on a trip back to our home town, but he didn't have any money of his own.

Instead, he completely cleared out our joint bank account and took off, leaving me with only the cash I had on hand- about 10 bucks.

Unfortunately, his timing was pretty terrible. I had enough food in the house and gas in the car to last until my next paycheck, but I started my period and didn't have any tampons or pads.

I decided to spend my last $10 on a pack of cigarettes and a cheap bottle of pink wine and use alternate materials for pads.

I cut up his favorite T-shirts and they actually worked great to do the job of sanitary napkins. All day wearing them, I was thinking about how funny it was- I was completely ruining his favorite things.

When he came home, he noticed the few strips of T-shirt that I didn't get to use and was furious. The look on his face when I told him what I had done was priceless. It was totally worth the grossness of it just for that moment.

Payback is such sweet bliss.