CRYING JAGS BY the hen herself

The crying jag is a new sensation...

It is sweeping the nation, our at least our little house of hen
One minute you are laughing out loud
and without warning...BLAMO----
tears of....tears of what?

Joy? NO
SADNESS? Not really
Relief? NO
Disgust? NO
Empathy? Nope.

Then what....

Tears of PROMETRIUM, LUVERIS, MEGA-PMS, and don't forget your friend and ours, (insert your favorite FSH hormone med) GONAL-F....

Mixed with some tears of BCP (birth control..yes the irony there is as thick as paste) and don't forget that wonderful supression medication - drum roll please....LUPRON...

If you are lucky, when the jag is over, your friends, coworkers, family, dogs, cats, fish in the bowl, lady behind the counter at the store, person taking your toll at the booth, person you are talking to on the phone....won't think you are insane.

Although, the thought will cross their mind. They will pass you tissue. Call an ambulance. Offer you the day off. Fire your nutso ass...or better yet..and worse of all---Call you out for being a no good, emotional slackard (this happens mostly if you work with a bunch of post menopausal confirmed breeding producers, or those stone cold ice uterus, perfectly groomed and manicured top executives who love to chastize those in positions of weakness...JAN BELL is my arch nemisis in that regard.....LOVE YA JAN BELL....SMOOCHY KISSES TO YOU AND YOUR BARREN BITCHY SELF)

So...at the end of the jag...remember to fix your eyeliner before moving away from the post of your desk or the car of wherever...and call your mom if you can.

At least your mom will make you laugh about it all. After all she did have you didn't she? There must be something useful in those reproductive organs somewhere....

CLUCK.....

the hen