Me, telling all my coworkers about my cramps. And now, telling anyone who clicks on the post. I have cramps. They are really fucking bad. I want to die but I ordered ramen for dinner so I’m gonna wait until after I have that.
I had to do it to impress Bill Clinton. Side note, he gave me the worst handshake I’ve ever had in my life, just competely limp, dead fish style. So I don’t give a shit if he was impressed with how many crunches I could do.
I’m willing to do it but only if I can have some kind of extra power, like invisibility or flight or my floss never knotting. You know, something impossible.
Period cramps, so sadly not the right kind. The solution is to remove my demon spawn uterus, but taking time off for surgery in the US is just a whole fucking thing. I have been thinking about trying magnesium for the calf cramps I get sometimes, though.
That’s some of it, but there are high school kids who come in to my office and literally write like 5 year olds. I mean holding the pen like little kids do, handwriting that’s a dead ringer for my kindergarten work books, all of it. Those kids were struggling way before COVID.