8 May 2002 - 5:38 p.m.

Call me crazy, because I thought my main priority this week was to get the fuck done with my undergraduate career, and, you know, commence or whatever.

As it turns out, I also need to stop making grown men cry.

I can't really go into who or why at this point, because, Jesus, the last thing I want to do after making some guy cry is tell the word about it.

Suffice it to say there have been men (plural) and there have been tears and sobs, and I feel pretty bad about the whole thing.

The thing is, I am a nice girl. Not nice in the sense that I am not mean, because I am really blunt in sarcastic, but nice in the nice girl vs. bad girl way, nice in the High Fidelity: Nice looks, nice grades, nice manners, etc. I am just not the brazen hussy-type who leaves a trail of broken hearts in her wake. Even last night, when I tried to dress up for a Pimp and Ho party, I ended up looking like a ballerina. A ballefuckingrina.

So you'd think I was harmless, and so would I, if not for, you know, all those crying men.

Sigh.

This entry doesn't really have a point, except that if anyone knows of a book on how not to be the kind of woman who makes men cry, please let me know.

What I'm wearing:

What I'm reading:

What I'm doing after this: