Night sweats?

You've got to be shitting me.

That, and the tightness in the chest, extreme irritability and the Beck song with the chorus, "everyone's out to get you, mother****er!" playing on a continual loop in my brain, well - it's enough for me to truly understand how this has come to be a legal defense in France and the UK.

PMS, PMDD or whatever the hell it's called these days, used to be a winsome, handy little excuse to blow up at friends, lovers, family and colleagues, turn imagined slights into full-fledged psychological warfare, and binge on pistachios and jalapeno Pringles 'til the cows come home, but gawddamn, I'za be scarin' myself these days. Time to set up some consultations with the medicos, for sure. But that'll have to wait until after I get home from Japan.

Also, I suppose I should be thankful this struck before I left, and not during my trip. That would've been one hell of a way to represent. Besides, it's not like the world needs another crazy-ass gaijin storming around, actin' a fool.