PMS is so unfair

My stream of thought on my drive home today:

I hate that we're having soup for dinner tonight. I would really like to have a burger. Yeah, a juicy burger all charred on the outside, on a buttered and toasted bun with a thick slice of red onion, tomato, lettuce, extra extra pickles, and all drippy with mustard and ketchup. Having a burger is a great excuse to have french fries, really really salty shoestring french fries. Because you can't have a burger without fries. Unless you're eating at a really good grille restaurant, and they have awesome onion rings. If I can convince The Husband to take me out to a burger place, I can get onion rings with my burger, and he never finishes his plate so I can eat the rest of his salty, greasy fries. Totally win-win for me. But first I'll want a side salad with ranch dressing and bacon and cheese. Then maybe we can go to Ben and Jerry's and I can get a chocolate shake. Or I can make brownies and make brownie sundaes. Or maybe we can just order pizza. Super greasy cheese pizza with a side of fried moz. 

But we had soup. And all I can think about is the burger of my dreams.