Monday Night Meltdown

The combination of an early morning, the impending departure of my little brother for a faraway land, PMS, a cloudy day, a stinky person on the subway, a broken fingernail, and a lack of groceries just made my cry as if my dog had just been hit by a car. And I don't even have a dog. I did have a dog, and my mom put it to sleep and told me she put it on a farm. I was 17 and I didn't cry over my dog. I didn't even cry at A Walk To Remember. I did, however, cry after every golf match

As David watched, his face going from amusement to shock to pity back to amusement to horror and finally just to exasperation while I alternated between sobbing and laughing, I realized this: bitches be crazy.

Sorry guys, I'm not sure why your girlfriend broke up with you, why your mom gave your sunglasses to your brother, why your sister cried when you asked her if she wanted a sandwich, why your grandmother calls you Francis or why that homeless lady at the subway kicked you in the balls. But I think that it can be blamed on the fact that we are all incurably, adorably, bewilderingly, bat-shit insane. Let's face it, boys, you wouldn't want it any other way.

Sorry!