He told me that I was killing him and he asked me if I wanted him to leave and I said yes, so he left. We work together, so I had to see him today and I just acted like nothing happened. He sent an e-mail to me about it and I didn't answer him. I just talked about other stuff. There is a bunch of drama going on at work about him flirting with some fat bitch and some really skinny bitch. I don't really give a shit who he flirts with as long as it isn't me! I have no need to recycle cocks... especially small ones.
Well: Last weekend: 8 glasses tanqueray + psycho bitch looking to land an engineer = difficult breakfast for two. Two weekends ago: The thought "Yeah. I've got a problem. I don't have any condoms and I'm trying to think of a way to ask if I can bust this nut in your ass." Preceding the words, "Nothing's wrong, lady. Hey, roll over."
I expected this kind of reaction here. She was more than a junkie and a supermodel. How would you like to be summed up by a habit and a career? What would yours be?
Who cares? She was a lesbian tramp who happened to be beautiful, for awhile. Big fucking deal. Now she gets to be immortal in the annals of Fugly along with that scintillating book on her that you no doubt have read and cried tears to... Great.
HAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! Congratulations! You've fulfilled your own Kentuckian, white trash prophecy! GOOD WORK! Here's your Junior, in later years:
