Bad Sign Number Six Million And Twenty-Seven

You know you’ve got serious Weepy PMS™ when you find yourself suddenly near tears over how horribly wrong Rebecca Black’s career went the moment it began.

I can’t help it! I have lots of hormones! And “Friday” is like a video of a kitten slamming into a plate glass window. You can’t help but laugh, but oh the poor dear.

I’m going to go watch a stupid 1950’s B-movie and probably burst into sobs when the town drunk gets eaten by a rubber monster. Don’t wait up.


ETA: Watched a Tinker Bell movie instead AND A THROWAWAY JOKE REDUCED ME TO TEARS. Y'all, I think my ovaries are broken.