Darling Clementine

Or, you could just not come because no one would miss you.

I am, right now, declaring next weekend a Whiny-assed, Pouty-assed Mummy Dearest-free Weekend.

Put that in your fucking pipe and smoke it, you whiny-assed bitch. THIS IS WHY WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS.

I do believe the time has come to fully move dear old mummy-dearest to the list of people I never want to go anywhere with ever again. purplemonkeydishwasher. She’s lucky we were in a church or I would have gotten a little ugly.

This is your niece’s special day. You sit your ass down and shut your fucking mouth. If you didn’t want to be there, guess what? YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BE. No one came to your house and forced you to leave it by gunpoint. You could have politely declined and that was the end of that. No, YOU chose to go, so act like a fucking civilised human once in your life.

The snide little comments under your breath aren’t cute. Great, you don’t share the same beliefs as someone else… no one gives a shit. Oh, you don’t believe in marriage, really? Because it’s all you talk about. You don’t have to be married blah-de-blah it’s just a piece of paper, it blah-deee-WHARGARBBL. PEOPLE CAN HEAR YOU… but I guess that was your point. Shut your fucking face.

Oh, and especially stop whispering those comments to my 12-year-old half-brother. The poor child is picking up on your shit and it’s not amusing. You’re not being cute or funny, you’re being an obnoxious asshole.

I especially LOVE the shit-talking of the groom’s family. Really, you’re just going to say that out loud? Oh wait, yes, yes you are. It’s alcohol time? Heavens forbid you don’t go five damn seconds without your precious alcohol. Oh, something something heathens? Oh, you’re talking about yourself? Right. Oh and me? You’re just going to bring me into something I have nothing to do with? Yeah, no. Just fucking NO.

“At least I’m behaving myself.”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”

/edit: Other than that asshole, it was a very lovely time… oh and being blatantly ignored, only then to be asked where my brother was… whatever. I wanted to full-on make-out with her dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Photos in a minute… maybe.

Oh dear, I’m ever so sorry the presence of The Roommate has “ruined your weekend.” Wasn’t aware that you were going to be spending your weekend at our house, but thanks for letting me know. I shall plan my life around yours accordingly. Shall I go to the store and pick you up anything? What are your favourite foods? Shall I stock your favourite crappy-ass beer and vodka? Please do let me know when you’re on your way so that I might roll out the red carpet and sprinkle it with flower petals. Ready the doves for your arrival and strike up the band. Hire photographers and perhaps some circus midgets.

My, my where are my fucking manners?