Darling Clementine

“I have no reason to talk about you.”

YET, when busted out on the fact that YOU WERE INDEED talking shit about that person… you “don’t talk shit about [person], except maybe when I need to call her a bitch under my breath.”

You were just talking mad shit. Oh wait, sorry, you don’t talk shit. OWN UP TO IT. Shit. This isn’t the first time you’ve been busted out by the person you were sharing said shit with; to then be confronted by said shittee. Seriously.

I’d be all like, “Fuck yeah, I was talking about you. Wanna know why? Because you beat babies with kittens.” Or whatever dumb fucking excuse you need to come up with. Personally I enjoy the truth, but whatever. “Yeah, I was talking shit about you, you dumb fucking twat.”

I’ve had the shittiest week and I’ll thank no one to fuck with me any further. 3 days and I’m ready to cut somebody. Yeah, 3 days… I have Mondays off for the forseeable future (i.e., until about September) and today, I woke up and said fuck it. I am in no mood to deal with any more crap. I just can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what kind of fucked up alignment the planets had going on and how many people were on their damn periods, but this shit… I’m done.

It’s also find a new job time and to utilise that link I posted a few entries back. I’ll show you, asshole.

Anyway, since my (immediate) boss didn’t call or text me back this morning, I guess not coming in was cool. If not, oh well, fire me. Please fucking fire me. I’ll give monies to fire me. Nah, don’t fire me just yet. I have to steal shit first (not really).

Also, fuck you Comcast… showing the Emirates Cup on a channel I don’t have. THAT’S EVIL. Fine then, I’ll just watch it online. YOU DON’T OWN ME.

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.

Ever have that one stupid-ass friend on whatever social-networking site that consistently says stupid-ass shit and you really want to comment on it telling them they’re morons, but you have to refrain yourself lest some higher being smites you down right there for a being an asshole even though the stupid-ass person totally needs to hear it? purplemonkeydishwasher.

Yeah. But then half the time you can’t even understand what the fuck they’re typing because apparently they no longer speak English as their first language and have spun off into speaking Dumbfuckish and no one except other people who speak Dumbfuckish ever comment because they’re the only one who know what that one person is typing. Don’t dare write back in English because sometimes their brains are so fried from being “best friends with Jane” (written in Dumbfuckish, of course) they don’t understand what the fuck you just written.

And, since you pay for web hosting/domain names/blog space, you can go and write this in response to their dumbass status update:

OF COURSE YOUR KIDS ARE FUCKING ASLEEP AFTER “SWIMMING” ALL DAY. YOU HAD THEM OUT YESTERDAY ON ONE OF THE HOTTEST FUCKING DAYS OF THE SUMMER (IT TOPPED 105 BITCH AND THE HEAT INDEX MADE IT FEEL WORSE). THEY’RE PROBABLY FUCKING SUNBURNT BECAUSE I KNOW YOU DON’T PUT SUNSCREEN ON THEM. PROBABLY SUFFERING FROM A LITTLE BIT OF HEAT EXHAUSTION (WHICH FUCKING SUCKS TO HAVE BY THE WAY, I KNOW I HAD TONS OF FUN WITH MY RAGING CASE OF IT). I KNOW THEY DON’T EVER DRINK WATER, LOOK AT YOU. BUT, OH, AS LONG AS YOU HAD FUN “GETTING YOUR TAN ON”. I HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR SKIN CANCER YOU NASTY ASSHOLE MOTHERFUCKER.

That’s just from yesterday. We’re not even going to get into the asinine update from a few days ago where this stupid-ass was mentioning going back to her “old ways.” Bitch, I swear…

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.