foreword

2nd May, my friends. Do something about it before it’s too late.

I have been living in high-rise apartments my whole life, and I think I can say that the winds have never been so strong before.

And for once, I can almost actually understand what people from other parts of the world feel before disaster strikes. Rocky’s scared out of his wits because of all the air roaring through the slits of my windows, and the weird neighbours living in the floor above are mine seem to be hammering something. In this weather, the only thing the hammering can be for is maybe making sure the furniture doesn’t get blown away.

This is quite freaky, and I am glad I’m not totally sober; still I think of the consequences of global warming a couple of decades down the road, where we may just experience the real thing right here.

I wanted to write something nice about being sunburnt but I deleted it.

It’s just annoying.

Women, girls, lend me your ears.

I have found the cure for monthly cramps. You heard me right – a cure? For the irritating contractions that keep you from enjoying life like you should, from taking the train without feeling like fainting or vomiting, from eating and being able to taste your food… A cure.

Right, enough with the suspense. So what can you do to get rid of it?

Have a kid. Simple as that.