Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Mr. Hyde (Or, A Rush of Blood Sugar to the Head)


I'm tempted to spend the next week (leading up to Thanksgiving) talking about food...

A decade ago, I worked for a small design company. Our office was housed in a huge floor-through loft space in an old underwear factory. My work space was in a shared grid of three other desks - all of which were occupied by women.

Two months after this set-up was configured, the three women's, um, cycles all, um, synced up.

I know this because they all talked about it - non-stop - when that time of the month came a-calling.

When Flo was in town, I would bait them with questions like:

"Did you know PMS is a social construct?"

"Did you know PMS only exists in Western Culture?"

"Did you know it's all in your head?"

I don't have to say - that line of questioning went over extremely well.

Anyway, the point of this story isn't related to women's reproductive health. This story's more about my own struggles with a certain personal demon...

Low. Blood. Sugar.

Now, my mother claims that my saying I have blood sugar issues is really a license to be a royal dick now and then. But I think it's more real than imagined.

You see, when I worked at this little design company, the three women I sat near collectively kept a drawer full of food (pretzels, nuts, protein bars) to fend me off when my maniacal, hungry side broke through.

One of them said - "We might all get PMS at the same time, but you're a bitch every damn day before lunch."

The food drawer in question came into being when I nearly reduced our office manager to tears over an order of recordable CDs. I'd asked and asked and asked her to order them day after day after day. After a week of no CDs, I finally confronted her:

"Are the CDs in yet?"

"Oh. They're out."

"Who's out?"

"Everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah. I called everyone."

"I find it hard to believe that the entire Eastern seaboard is 'out of CDs'."

"Uh..."

"You're lazy. Step to it. NOW."

The whole event was witnessed by my three deskmates - thus, the drawer. Although they were impressed by my bitchery, they were more than a little scared.

After nearly two years of working with me, the three of them got a system down. Before I even had the chance to roll my eyes - or even think about rolling my eyes, I would be pelted in the head with sourdough pretzels or cookies or half a sandwich.

8 comments:

JOE * to * HELL said...

and i hope that, in return, you pelted all of them in the head every 28 days with various 'pons and pads

Muzbot said...

Geez, I'm glad my staff don't chuck food at me each time I get a little cranky. Mind you, on days like today when I was feeling a little peckish around morning tea time it might have been to my advantage. :)

hello, my name is danny. said...

ha! that joe really i notorious. i was going to say something about tampons being thrown at your deskmates' heads as well. damnit!

my bf always makes sure i get fed as soon as i say i'm hungry. otherwise heads ~are~ bitten off!

m00nchild said...

i would LOVE to work with you. two bitches against the damn world. since i eat sugar substitute products and whole grains we don't have to fight over food turf neither.

TWISI said...

if I got hit in the head with something every time I was bitchy I would be one big concussion.

Big Daddy said...

Once I went on my meds, I became less of a bitch.

Ha.

kusala ~ joe said...

I'm with Big Daddy: norepinephrine and serotonin make everyone I come in contact with even happier than they make me!

seymour said...

Loving your blog mr buffalo.

We call that state of being 'hangry" - like a fusion of angry and hungry. My bear friends get it as much as my jockular mates.

Snacking is a solution! I also like to feed.... others.