Dear Hormones,

WTF? There I was, driving down the street on my way to work, cursing the PT Cruiser in front of me for driving so slowly (seriously, only douchelords drive PT Cruisers), when I passed a kid in a wheelchair being helped onto the short schoolbus. Next thing I know I'm sobbing into my coffee cup about the poor sweet little handicapped kid and, in a selfish display of emotion that proves everything comes back to me, my own sad lack of companionship. Thank God I hadn't put my makeup on yet or I'd be rockin the raccoon look, and everyone would be making comments about me partying too hard last night. The only party I had last night was between me, the engaged coworker, and the telephone wires-- and a contributory factor to my hormonal anguish.

Do me a favor and just stop completely. At least try not to attack me when I see the limpy guy who works in the next room over. I don't need to be explaining to HR why I suddenly broke down in tears when I saw an old Asian man limping across the parking lot.

Still a little weepy,

R