I'm highly hormonal right now due to a change in birth control.  My PMS-addled brain is barking orders nonstop.  The latest:

"If I don't get a Butterfinger in the next five minutes I'm going to strangle someone!"

So I go down to the vending machine.  The vending machine refiller guy is standing there deciding where to put the Twix bars today or working out world peace in his mind or SOMETHING, I don't know what, but he's between me and those sweet, sweet Butterfingers.

Sure, I could ride the elevator down to the convenience store on the skyway level BUT IT'S EASIER TO COME HERE AND BITCH ABOUT IT.

nggggh *twitch* *twitch*