You know how there's the 'phone nanny' service for when you're drunk? You dial a number and it refuses to let you make that 3am call to your ex where you slobber down the line and shriek and rail and ask where it all went wrong.
I'm thinking I need one like that for bloggering, only when PMT strikes. Around every 28 days the computer will seize up and stop me from pouring out vitriol and hyperbole into the universe.
Right now I'm having to try and stop myself, and correct me if I'm wrong, but a madwoman with rampant hormones just isn't up to self-censure.
Right, off to chew the radiators. The oestrogen is also compelling me to write an erotic mock-historical paranormal romance, when I should be doing the complete opposite. Automatic writing, yes, fine, but it's tosh. Someone take the notebook out of my hands now, please, before I do something I regret. You can give me it back in 5 to 7 days when I'm feeling less female.