Dick.

One of the nicest things Ryan has ever done was invite me to Bonnaroo this summer. A friend of his family’s offered him a few tickets and he immediately asked if I wanted to go. Of course, I said yes. Alcohol, drugs, and mud? I definitely wouldn’t have missed it.

This was months ago. He knows I’m shamelessly excited about it, but I should’ve known that it’d all go to shit. Long, dumb, story short he saw his ex-girlfriend over spring break and now he’s not sure if he should give the ticket to me or her.

If his roommates weren’t standing just outside the door I would have exploded. I stormed out instead and because I’m currently riding the red wave, I cried like a little girl in my room. In true movie fashion, my friends came over with cookies and mercilessly made fun of him.

The last six weeks of school don’t look promising. It’s going to be a long time before I get laid again.

whine, whine, whine.

PMS hits me in the most stereotypical way - four days of crying fits and an increase in my bitchiness level (an 8 to a 9). At college I spare everyone by turning off my phone and locking myself in my room, but at home there’s no escape from my siblings.

I’ve all ready yelled at my sister for not asking if I wanted a PB&J sandwich and started weeping when my 2 year old niece whispered “I lub you.” I’m so sick of myself. I’ve considered taking testoterone and getting a phalloplasty.

Unfortunately, this parade of erratic hormones lasts for three, long days and then Auntie Flo will come and use my ovaries as speed bags.

I also need to get laid.

i am five-years-old.

I know the silent treatment is childish and immature but when Michael came knocking on my door around 5:00 I just laid still in my bed. A few moments later my cellphone was vibrating loudly on top of my bureau, thus giving myself away. Obviously, I was in there hiding from him. He left after a couple minutes and I turned over and went back to sleep.

This isn’t the first time I’ve ignored his half-assed attempts at making amends. I usually get over it within a day of the offense, but I feel like being mean this time.

I’m attributing this willed bitchiness entirely on my period, by the way. If this had occurred five days later I would all ready be in his room, forcing him to read my story.