Wot the deuce?

I was thoroughly betrayed by estrogen at work tonight. Seriously. It snuck up on me and held me hostage.

There was a party at Sigma Chi that quickly turned into an interfrat fight, and I went along as crowd control. Unfortunately, I was...rather effective at it. Apparently every drunk boy within a 200 foot radius felt the need to come by and gripe to me about how terrible life was. I think one of them ended up in tears. Bossman Prime was inside, questioning the kids who got injured, and I was outside...being questioned by a bunch of vodka-basted bleeding hearts.

Later, we came across a kid who must have suffered from some sort of paranoid disorder, because he was so terrified of us he started crying. And I wanted to hug him. Please explain that to me. Bossman Prime is looking at him like he is a special breed of wuss, and I want to pet him like a puppy! Clearly something is amiss. Then again, I've always been completely undone by crying boys. It's like a Wren insta-snuggle tactic. Don't ask me why.

And now I do dishes in a desperate attempt to stay awake for the last part of my shift.