Sandra got her period, which I'm thankful for and disgusted by. She came in bed this morning and laid down next to me, returning from a long stay in the bathroom.

"I have my period," She said.

"That's nice," I said. "Do you want me to feel sorry for you?"

"I feel so shitty. You don't know what it's like?" She said.

Exactly, I thought. I don't. Women have been taking advantage of this period thing since the beginning of domesticity and you know what, I'm sick of being the sucker, not just for me, but for everyman in the world that has to suffer, plead, work harder, sympathize and be a scapegoat, for something we know nothing about. Mind you, this isn't one day out of a month, it is a whole week. That is a quarter of the time, a quarter.

I have no idea what it's like to have a period. How do I know? But, am I just supposed to assume it is as bad as they say, so they can have a free week of servitude? No, no, no, chicas, not this guy, no more.

You'd think after years they would get used to it. And you know what, I bet they do. There has never been an instant that they haven't rub it deep into my skin that they are biologically different. It's a conspiracy at the highest of levels, an entire gender committing fraud. No more free bitch passes, no more back rubs, nothing. I am treating them as normal human beings from now on.

Just because I see blood, I will not cower. Ha Ha Ha. No more.

Earlier today, Sandra said, "No, it's different for every girl. It used to not bother me."

"Oh. It didn't," I said. "Until you saw your older sister say, 'Daddy, I can't go to school today I have my period.' And from then on, it hurt you just as bad as it seemed to hurt your older sister. Right?"

"No. No. It really hurts me."

Sure it does, Sandra. This blog isn't just to you. It's to all those woman who have made me suffer from my ignorance. I will be ignorant no longer. I smell the deceit from the feminine beast. And it smells strong.

Life is good with Sandra Montecarlo. Except when she forces my fingers on her crotch in the morning when we wake up, like some sort of female antichrist.

It's fine, but I just need a little coffee first.

I eat bananas on my toast with honey and butter. It's what she prepares most mornings this July. I used to eat cereal with yogurt, before she arrived There are people in this world that don't consider cereal cereal when it's mixed with yogurt. That's a very American way to think about cereal, I think. Anywho, I used to mix it with kiwis. Cereal is cereal no matter what dairy product it is mixed with. I wonder what kind of breakfast I will be eating next July and where that July will be or maybe even the July after that, what kind of breakfast will I eat? I hope I am not eating assholes.

SM wants me to be in Cordoba next July. That seems far away though, but I bet she would make me toast.

I have to be in Ohio in July to go to my cousin's wedding. That seems far away though, but family is family.

I have written a poem for Sandra Montecarlo in her native tongue. I have been experimenting with my Spanish poetry a lot lately. I usually tell her something like this to help her sleep. It usually works.

Estar enamorada es estar gordo.

Somos Elefantes gordos con orejas grandes?

Estos suenos parecen nubes hechas de ácido sulfúrico.

El lobo del mar mira los pinguinos y nuestro amor.

Encontré nuestro amor en una bolsa de fruta con un bebé

Dónde ésta el aguadulce de vida y mi amor?

Fin.