FRIEDMAN: Tik Tok

Did you wake up in the morning feeling like P Diddy? No? Did you wake up in the morning feeling bloated, cranky and hungry? Okay Ke$ha, I think we know what time the clock Tik Tok-ed to. Mother nature is such a betch.

Now, there are many things we know a girl does not do. She does not fart. She does not burp. And she definitely doesn’t poop. In fact, she doesn’t even say the word.

Whoops.

But there is one thing she is guilty of: PMS. Granted, it’s out of her control, but that doesn’t mean it ain’t cray-cray. When it’s that time of the month, the betch has more issues than Vogue. She becomes a werewolf under a full moon, a vampire thirsty for blood, a J Woww thirsty for alcohol. Watch yourself.

But how can a guy be sure that it’s coming? How can a guy distinguish between the typical crazy betch and the PMS betch?

Well, she’s moody. She’s wearing sweatpants. Her hair is tied in a careless ponytail. She’s watching “Love Actually.” More than usual. You asked her why she texts so much and she started crying. You offered her a hug and she started crying. “Gossip Girl” didn’t play this week and she started crying. Yeah, I’d say it’s about that time.

To all boyfriends, friends with benefits, cuddle buddies, spooners and lab partners:

Rules to Survive the Week of Hell

This is not a drill.

1) Carry chocolate bars.

When we morph from typical crazy betch to PMS betch, emotions get out of hand. We scream, pout, and cry. Who wants that? I know you don’t.

Solution: Hand her a chocolate bar. Sure, she’ll first slap you and say you’re trying to make her fat. But after some brief consideration, she’ll tear through that Hershey wrapper like it’s Christmas.

2) Don’t speak unless spoken to.

That’s right.  You can’t utter a single word unless she gives you the go. That means you can’t ask her where the lost remote is. That means you can’t ask her where the leftover pasta is. That means you can’t ask her if she wants to smush tonight. Yeah, you definitelycan’t ask her if she wants to smush tonight. More on that later.

3) Beware of sudden movement. 

Keep your body parts to yourself. Keep your eyes averted. Do not make any sudden movements and do not instigate the PMS betch. Unless of course, you’re willing to get a finger bitten off. Your call.

4) Give in to chick flicks. More than usual. 

I’m sure it’s painful boys. But you’re just going to have to watch “Legally Blonde” one more time. Or maybe “27 Dresses.” Whatever her pick, buck up. Make your girl some popcorn (her own bowl of course, she’s gonna be hungry) and curl up next to her on the couch. Just not too close.

5) Accept defeat. Hanky-panky ain’t gonna happen this week. 

I think that about sums that up.

6) No laughing allowed.

We know you don’t know why she’s a blubbering mess this week—we don’t know either. Whatever the reason, you can’t laugh in her presence. She’ll assume you’re laughing at her (which you probably are) and things could get full-moonish.

In order to avoid the surfacing of her inner werewolf, this PMS betch needs support. She needs tissues. She needs back massages (unless she doesn’t want you to touch her). She needs a heaping stack of tabloids. But most of all, she needs chocolate.

7) Do not underestimate the power of PMS. That shizz is some Jedi-mind craziness.

When a woman is surfing the crimson wave, she will exercise a part of her being man did not know existed. I’m talking “Exorcism of Emily Rose” bidness. Things will get nutty. Do not panic. Okay, panic a little.

8) Small gestures, boys.    

Were you contemplating ordering her Chinese food take-out? No? Well now you are. Do it, she’ll adore you.

Were you considering buying her flowers? A bit? Well go for it! She’ll be thrilled. Unless she’s allergic. Then she’ll hate you.

Were you pondering buying her a puppy?

You were? Seriously? That’s weird. Don’t do that.

9) Cover your bases. 

Just to be safe, ensure the following products are fully stocked: Midol, Midol, Midol, Midol, Midol, Midol and chocolate bars.

If you can adhere to the rules above, this week from hell will whizz by in what feels like a mere seven days. Remember—she loves you. She may be breathing fire now, but it’s only temporary, I promise. A week of Cosmo, Ben and Jerry’s and Midol and she’ll be back to her old self.

So give a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T and be patient, the full moon can’t last forever. Although that my innocent victims, is for another article. Period.

Samantha Friedman is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at samtf@bu.edu.