I need a weekend. I need a nap, and maybe a bottle of wine.
I don’t give a shit that this has nothing to do with me, this fucking rocks.
Don’t listen what your girlfriend says
She reads those magazines
That say you failed the test
You don’t have what she needs
I slither like a viper
And get you by the neck
I know a thousand ways to help you forget about herThat bitch can eat her heart out!
Love bites, but so do I, so do I.
Love bites, but so do I, so do I.
Love bites!
Someone asked what advice I would give my daughter if she were considering getting involved in a relationship with a married man, a man with children.
I would tell her to run, not walk, away, as fast as possible, because that sort of relationship would only bring heartbreak to all concerned and because a man who would fall for that is truly scum and absolutely not worthy of her affections.
But long before she is able to even fall into this hypothetical situation, I’m going to tell her that it’s not like a fucking Disney show out there. There is no Prince Charming, there will be no Happy Ending. That concept is an idea pushed by the same people that sell flowers and jewelry and timeshares.
If this sounds bitter it’s because I’m angry at myself for proving how badly I can fuck up what looks like a Good Thing. I’m very good at breaking things.
I laughed more than once at this (but that’s as much detail as I care to divulge at this time).
Bonus: Wookie Jesus.
