The class assumed I was holding back because the truth was too horrible to unload on a class full of strangers. Perhaps a Satanic ritual involving the dismemberment of a younger brother was eating at my psyche. (Why is she an only child?) The sad truth is I had nothing to tell.

Why has it become so trendy to be fucked-up? When did normal become abnormal? Where was I when this shift occurred?

Today's woman is not complete without an "incident." It is the hottest commodity. Dorm rooms across America are abuzz with women trading sexual war stories, and their boyfriends become victims in the process.

"Daddy raped me. Five of my cousins gangbanged me. My ex-boyfriend forcibly sodomized me. So hold me for two hours, sweetie, and maybe I will let you have sex with me for five minutes before I burst into tears because you remind me of the person who violated me."

Coming in a close second for things a woman cannot leave home without are eating disorders. What woman cannot wax nostalgic about her youthful crushes on boy bands and female bonding experienced over a vomit-encrusted toilet? The 90's girl must carry laxatives and a crumpled photo of Kate Moss, the middle-class white girl's ideal. Daring to eat a plate of french fries is shocking and warrants immediate justification.

"Oh, God, I was so upset last night because my cousin eyed me in 'that way,' and I just had to eat a plate of fries! I'm going to barf them up later! Pinky swear!"

The era of the nuclear family is waning, and soon, anyone who comes from a fairly stable two-parent household will be shunned. The future of America rests on the shoulders of single parents, preferably gay, African-American and Democrat -- or anything that promotes diversity.

"Well, she grew up with two heterosexual parents participating in a legally-sanctioned relationship. They promoted responsibility, self-sufficiency and independence. Obviously, she will one day commit a hate crime."

Anyone who is anyone devotes a section of his medicine cabinet to anti-depressants. Visiting the shrink is as common as visiting the grocery store. Ailments need not be serious; the fact a visit occurred will suffice.

"I need someone to tell me how to live my life because my parents relied on the public school system to tell me how to think, and unfortunately, their liberal propaganda has turned me into a spineless wimp unable to cope with the harsh realities of life. Oh, and I make myself puke because my neighbor touched me when I was five. Really."

OJ Simpson's devotion to his dear wife, Nicole, created a new topic for women to kvetch about -- domestic violence. What woman does not have a sinister ex-boyfriend lurking in the shadows? What woman has not felt the sting of a man's hand across her tear-stained cheeks? What woman has not gone to court to file an order of protection against her significant other? And what woman has not returned to her abusive partner, only to start the cycle of whining over again?

"I mean it, Mike. I am leaving. You have hit me for the last time. Prominent women, such as Hillary Clinton, have told me I am too good for this shit. So I am packing my bags and going to my mother's house. What? You love me? You will never hit me again? Well, okay, honey, I'll stay."

So with the United States becoming a nation of overmedicated pussies one skipped meal closer to being institutionalized, I continue to search for something in my life that will make me fit in with the rest of society.

Providing jack-off material for white misogynists since 1997.

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