I've said it before and I'll say it again. All men want to be married to an angel and have a whore in the bedroom. Men are shallow creatures, and not terribly bright. It's time to point out a few things to you. It is possible to have both in the same woman. Rare, but possible.
Of course, you do have to watch out for the fakes and posers. Just like women have to do. You can't turn a true whore into a housewife, and if she reminds you of dear old mom, she'll never be your whore in the bedroom. This is why afairs happen, you idiots. You look for something you aren't getting at home. You therefore, didn't find the perfect angel/whore combination. I see the look of confusion. Let me simplify things for you.
The Angel
This is the woman that all your friends are halfway in love with. She cooks, cleans, works, excels at every housewifely thing there possibly is. She can hang with the guys to watch the game, but has the sense to leave them alone for the all important guy-bonding time. She makes sure there is enough beer in the fridge, and food readily available, then retires to another area and leaves you to it. She makes sure you are well taken care of, smiles and bites her tongue at the snarky mother-in-law input, doesn't try to set your single friends up with her single friends, and stays out of guy arguements. She makes other men want her, but never ever leads them to think the could have her. She can throw a dinner party, or a beer bash with equal finesse, manages to still look good in her grubbies, blah blah blah. You know what kind of angel you want.
The Whore
This is the woman that only you know. This woman has no qualms about wearing a pair of red heels and a smile to greet you when you come home from work. This woman waits for you to sit down and relax, and then crawls onto your lap and lets you know in no uncertain terms that you will be having wild white hot sex within minutes. This woman gets hers, and if you enjoy it too, well hey, BONUS! I could go into more detail but I am attempting a PG rating here. But I think you get my point.
The Perfect Combination
This is the woman that the public sees and envies, and you are proud to show her off at every chance. She makes all your friends' relationships look hopeless. She can be so adorable that you are able to overlook her irritating qualities. Because you also know that when you get her home, she is going to rock your world. It's her idea to push you flat on your back and wear you out. It's her idea to fulfill one of your fantasies as a surprise when you've had a really bad day. If she ever says no, she's got a damn good reason, and it's not that you didn't buy her a new car, or you didn't take out the trash, or as punishment for any other lame ass reason. Usually no involves the flu, utter exhaustion, PMS, PMDD, a trip to the ER, or the fact that YOUR mother has a glass pressed to the guest room wall, trying to eavesdrop.
Oh sure, you will have disagreements. Even some knock down drag outs. But it all works out because you just don't want to fight with anyone else. It's not that she is actually so perfect, but that she is willing to share a side of herself with you that no one else gets to see. But it has to be a TRUE side of her, and not a pose.
Fakes and Posers
I can clear this up pretty quickly. Ever wanted to have a threesome, and your woman agrees? Well here ya go...if at any time during said threesome, she ever looked to see how you were reacting, she's a poser. If she ever claimed that it didn't bother her to see you with the third woman, she's a lying fake. She means well, but she is trying to manipulate you into believing she is something she's not. She thinks that this will keep you together. It won't, because subconsciously you noticed what I just pointed out. Then you get to pay for it. Usually it comes out that she "only did it for you!" And naturally, she didn't enjoy one minute of it.
Yes, we are rare creatures. We are woman enough to know that men love two things. Securty and variety. If we have a threesome, we know that you men will love watching a fantasy fulfilled, but if we are taking care of you, you won't be interested in touching the other woman. You'll enjoy watching them, but you only want her. We know that you will be proud as hell that every man you know wants what you have, but it won't occur to us to take any of them up on the offer. We are woman enough to let you go if thats what you want. (But once we let you go, you don't get to come back. And you will want to. You always do.) We don't settle. We give you all of ourselves out of the love and feeling we have for YOU. We don't care if others don't see it, or understand it. We know what it is all about and that's all that matters. Rare? Yes. Mythical? No. Most men stopped believing in us, but we're still out there. Sometimes, we are discovered, and then the men that didn't believe, well, they fall in love with their best friend's wife...so men, take a good long look at what you have, what you want, and what you threwaway. Then look at your friends. Bet it'll open your eyes!
Saturday, April 23, 2011
20 things you don't know about me
I have so many people that think they know me, who I am, what I stand for. They don't. Not at all actually. If you want to really get to know me, start with this...
#1. I am a very private person, moreso now than even 3 months ago, so telling you 19 more things is going to be very hard.
#2. I love horror movies, but not gross out movies. The Saw movies are gross out movies.
#3. My friends have now, out of necessity, become my aquaintances.
#4. I enjoy being female, but I detest being girly.
(This is a lot harder than I thought it would be)
#5. I have become a consummate actress, and I promise, you have no idea what I am actually thinking.
#6. I have cried myself to sleep, and pretended the next day that I couln't be happier.
#7. My children are the single most important thing in my life. Anytime I have tried to add a person to that, I fail miserably.
#8. I am not religious, but I am very spiritual.
#9. I have lousy judgement when it comes to relationships, both intimate and platonic. I suffer the Pollyanna complex, and hate to believe that people I trust and love could be anything other than perfect.
#10. I am a hopeless romantic. I love holding hands, moonlit strolls on the beach, cuddling by the fire, all the cheesy hallmark stuff.
(halfway there, and it's only taken me 40 minutes so far)
#11. I am a creature of habit most of the time, so when I break my habit, it tends to upset those around me.
#12. I believe in love, but it's not something I will let myself feel anymore.
#13. I have no patience for drama. When I am feeling dramatic myself, I tend to push peole away and shut down. When this happens, let me.
#14. I adore dark chocolate, and have for years. No candy fads for me!
#15. I enjoy dressing up nicely. After years and years in uniforms, dressing is a nice change.
#16. I have extremely expensive taste, even though I can no longer afford to have it. It's one of the habits I have yet to overcome.
#17. I love high heels. Ok, so maybe you do know that about me, but being open about 20 things is really really hard. So I fudged a little.
#18. I am upset when I walk into a store and have to find the english translation for the hispanic signs.
#19. I don't do casual sex. It makes me feel sleazy and scummy. I think I am worth more than that.
#20. My favorite color is like my eyes. It changes with my mood. Currently I have 3 which are black, blood red, and dark green.
This was actually pretty hard for me to do. Once I realized that it's better to not discuss work or anything at all with co-workers, and it's better to keep my private life private, even from my closest friends, I realized that I am very limited on what I am comfortable saying for public consumption.
Some people are an open book, and it works out well for them. For me, sharing my thoughts and ideas, hopes, dreams, and secrets cost me more than I was willing to pay. So when you think you really know me, think again. I promise you don't.
#1. I am a very private person, moreso now than even 3 months ago, so telling you 19 more things is going to be very hard.
#2. I love horror movies, but not gross out movies. The Saw movies are gross out movies.
#3. My friends have now, out of necessity, become my aquaintances.
#4. I enjoy being female, but I detest being girly.
(This is a lot harder than I thought it would be)
#5. I have become a consummate actress, and I promise, you have no idea what I am actually thinking.
#6. I have cried myself to sleep, and pretended the next day that I couln't be happier.
#7. My children are the single most important thing in my life. Anytime I have tried to add a person to that, I fail miserably.
#8. I am not religious, but I am very spiritual.
#9. I have lousy judgement when it comes to relationships, both intimate and platonic. I suffer the Pollyanna complex, and hate to believe that people I trust and love could be anything other than perfect.
#10. I am a hopeless romantic. I love holding hands, moonlit strolls on the beach, cuddling by the fire, all the cheesy hallmark stuff.
(halfway there, and it's only taken me 40 minutes so far)
#11. I am a creature of habit most of the time, so when I break my habit, it tends to upset those around me.
#12. I believe in love, but it's not something I will let myself feel anymore.
#13. I have no patience for drama. When I am feeling dramatic myself, I tend to push peole away and shut down. When this happens, let me.
#14. I adore dark chocolate, and have for years. No candy fads for me!
#15. I enjoy dressing up nicely. After years and years in uniforms, dressing is a nice change.
#16. I have extremely expensive taste, even though I can no longer afford to have it. It's one of the habits I have yet to overcome.
#17. I love high heels. Ok, so maybe you do know that about me, but being open about 20 things is really really hard. So I fudged a little.
#18. I am upset when I walk into a store and have to find the english translation for the hispanic signs.
#19. I don't do casual sex. It makes me feel sleazy and scummy. I think I am worth more than that.
#20. My favorite color is like my eyes. It changes with my mood. Currently I have 3 which are black, blood red, and dark green.
This was actually pretty hard for me to do. Once I realized that it's better to not discuss work or anything at all with co-workers, and it's better to keep my private life private, even from my closest friends, I realized that I am very limited on what I am comfortable saying for public consumption.
Some people are an open book, and it works out well for them. For me, sharing my thoughts and ideas, hopes, dreams, and secrets cost me more than I was willing to pay. So when you think you really know me, think again. I promise you don't.
When realization hit
this morning I felt like such a FOOL! It literally made me physically sick. Hatred is not strong enough to define what I now feel. I sit here and wonder why nobody told me, and wonder how much laughing has gone on behind my back. I have absolutely no trust anymore. Enjoy the ride. Sleep well at night. Don't give another thought to what the hell it's done to me. But don't ever, ever come anywhere near me again. Leave me and mine alone. I don't tolerate filth, and make no mistake, that is EXACTLY what you are. Tell yourself whatever you have to but the fact that you aspire to be seepage is now clear to everyone, not just me. Regardless of what they say to your face. How does it feel? To now know that people are talking about what a dirt merchant you are, but smiling and playing nice when you are around. The funny part of the whole thing is, I could change where you sit on your high horse right now, and introduce you to the ground. HARD. Because I wasn't the only one being lied to. Just because you don't see something, never mistake that its there. No matter what you've been told. I have the proof of that. But why do anything to hurt you? You will get hurt soon enough without any help from me. That's just the way the world works, and if you live a lie, abuse the people who trusted you, it will not only bite you in the ass, it will chew you up and spit you out, into an unrecognizable mess that only shadows what you pretended to be. You are a lying, repulsive bit of filth, and I can't wait to see you fall. And when you do I will be there. To do exactly what you did for me. I will take great pleasure in kicking you when you are down. Count on it.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Just because you have a college degree
I spent most of yesterday feeling like the ass end of a dead goat, curled up on either the sofa or my bed, staring at the idiot box. I already suffer from remote control A.D.D. but when I am sick, it's worse. Everything bugs me when I am sick, so I can't ever find anything that makes me happy. SO there I was, channel surfing like crazy, when I stumbled onto this channel showing excerpts from court proceedings. It stopped me dead in my tracks because the first word (or non-word) I heard was believableness.
Since vocabulary is a pet peeve of mine for some unknown and ungodly reason, I had to stop and see what kind of idiot actually said it. Drumroll please.........it was an attorney for the prosecution. And apparently she liked the way it sounded so much she used it five more times before she finally sat her ignorant butt down. By that time, I was twitching like a spastic on crack, wanting to yell at the televison, and mostly the courtroom, to tell them her vocabulary greatly detracted from her believableness of actually having a college degree. My daughter, who tends to get all mommy-like when I am sick, was laughing so hard at me she almost fell off the end of the sofa. And unable to contain herself, she said "You know, mom, IRREGARDLESS of how you feel about it...." In case nobody knows, my daughter is the consummate smart ass.
She is also very aware of how anyone saying irregardless is guaranteed to make me crazy. My ex-husband used to say that all the time. And for the first 10 years of our marriage, I bit my tongue and let him say it. The last 5, I couldn't do it anymore, and there are times I wonder if that contributed to the downfall of my marriage.....yeah, not really.
Anyhoo, this twit had me so worked up that the pounding in my head doubled, causing the upset stomach to kick into overdrive. I stumbled off to the bathroom to yark up what was left of my spleen, mumbling under my breath about what I would do to her believableness if I ever caught her within 50 feet of me. I got over her vocabulary disaster quickly though. When you throw up your toes, it has a way of focusing your attention on only one thing. Not throwing up anymore. I curled up on my bed after, and watched Ghost Adventures instead. I don't care what they talk about and how they say it. Zak Bagans and Nick Groff are just eye candy, and Aaron Goodwin is just goofy enough to be appealing in a strange, creepy kind of way.
Thankfully, today is a new day, and I feel a lot better. Fever gone, headache down to a dull roar, and no more throwing up. I need to find that channel again, and see what other little pearls of wisdom Ivy League idiots can come up with!
Have a great day!
Since vocabulary is a pet peeve of mine for some unknown and ungodly reason, I had to stop and see what kind of idiot actually said it. Drumroll please.........it was an attorney for the prosecution. And apparently she liked the way it sounded so much she used it five more times before she finally sat her ignorant butt down. By that time, I was twitching like a spastic on crack, wanting to yell at the televison, and mostly the courtroom, to tell them her vocabulary greatly detracted from her believableness of actually having a college degree. My daughter, who tends to get all mommy-like when I am sick, was laughing so hard at me she almost fell off the end of the sofa. And unable to contain herself, she said "You know, mom, IRREGARDLESS of how you feel about it...." In case nobody knows, my daughter is the consummate smart ass.
She is also very aware of how anyone saying irregardless is guaranteed to make me crazy. My ex-husband used to say that all the time. And for the first 10 years of our marriage, I bit my tongue and let him say it. The last 5, I couldn't do it anymore, and there are times I wonder if that contributed to the downfall of my marriage.....yeah, not really.
Anyhoo, this twit had me so worked up that the pounding in my head doubled, causing the upset stomach to kick into overdrive. I stumbled off to the bathroom to yark up what was left of my spleen, mumbling under my breath about what I would do to her believableness if I ever caught her within 50 feet of me. I got over her vocabulary disaster quickly though. When you throw up your toes, it has a way of focusing your attention on only one thing. Not throwing up anymore. I curled up on my bed after, and watched Ghost Adventures instead. I don't care what they talk about and how they say it. Zak Bagans and Nick Groff are just eye candy, and Aaron Goodwin is just goofy enough to be appealing in a strange, creepy kind of way.
Thankfully, today is a new day, and I feel a lot better. Fever gone, headache down to a dull roar, and no more throwing up. I need to find that channel again, and see what other little pearls of wisdom Ivy League idiots can come up with!
Have a great day!
Friday, April 15, 2011
It will always hurt...
No matter what you do, it will always hurt. Caring deeply for someone, anyone, is going to hurt. It is amplified by 10 if your feelings aren't returned. I don't think anything compares to the crushing feeling of watching someone turn their back on you when they are your world. When you discover that you are just a game, or worse, a joke to them, it destroys your faith in them, in yourself, and in everyone around you. And so far, I haven't discovered a way to make it better. Oh, I know ways to let go, and I know ways to rationalize everything, but in the deep dark of a long night, the truth hits home. When you reach across the bed for someone who is not there, you can't escape the pain that follows.
I have tried so many times, and failed every single time. I know love exists, because I feel it. I just think that some people are meant to love, and some people are meant to never love. Some are meant to never be loved. I think I am the latter. I no longer believe in fairy tales, I don't believe there is someone for everyone. I believe I am meant to be alone. I just wish it wasn't like that. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of my friends always saying I need a man. I've had men. And boys. And they all walked away. Or ran. Why would I keep finding people that are going to do the same thing?
I exist on the surface, and that's just how it has to be. I can't cry anymore. I can't breathe anymore. I just am.
I have tried so many times, and failed every single time. I know love exists, because I feel it. I just think that some people are meant to love, and some people are meant to never love. Some are meant to never be loved. I think I am the latter. I no longer believe in fairy tales, I don't believe there is someone for everyone. I believe I am meant to be alone. I just wish it wasn't like that. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of my friends always saying I need a man. I've had men. And boys. And they all walked away. Or ran. Why would I keep finding people that are going to do the same thing?
I exist on the surface, and that's just how it has to be. I can't cry anymore. I can't breathe anymore. I just am.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Salmon Patties and $2 Hookers
Ok, my daughter apparently has a great love of salmon patties. It would have to be a dish I have never prepared in my life, right? In fact, I have never prepared salmon ANYTHING. My version of having salmon, is having it imported, smoked, served with scallions and little garlic toast triangles, washed down with a very dry champagne. Obviously my budget no longer supports this version of salmon. So I did what anyone would do. I asked my friends how to make salmon patties. I got tons of recipes that called for anything from crushed up oyster crackers to cornmeal. My friend Kat sent me the easiest recipes to follow, so armed with my new found knowledge, off I go to Wal-Mart to buy what I needed. I should have known I was in trouble as soon as I read the label on the can.
"Alaskan Pink Salmon" it declared in large white letters. In smaller black letters underneath read the words "Packed in Alaska". Well no kidding. Now keep in mind that on the front of the can it SAYS salmon, with a big pink fish picture. On the back of the can it says, "Ingredients: Pink Salmon, Salt". Just in case you missed the picture and writing on the front. And for the total idiot, it also says "Allergy Warning: Contains Salmon" Needless to say, I was pretty damn sure it was a can of salmon before I opened it. The label lacked the helpful information I really needed.
Nobody warned me about the bones. They should have put THAT little tidbit on the label. They should also have included the fact that you don't have to actually pick out all these little bones. They didn't, of course, so I spent 45 minutes picking out all these tiny little bones. Along with the spine. It wasn't until after I did that, that one of my friends told me all I needed to get out was the spine. So far my salmon experience was not living up to my expectations.
Another warning that I wish they had put on the label...It is NOT grey snot, it's skin. Actually, it wouldn't have changed what I did with the grey snotty skin, because it was revolting. Skin or snot, it went straight down the disposer the second I scraped it off the hunk of fish and bone. But it would have been nice to be warned that it would be there. I'd rather fondle chicken fat.
And finally, I wish that in big letters on the can, it had advised me to open ALL windows and doors, turn on the fan, light candles, spray Febreze, and beg the dog to pass gas. Because canned salmon smells LOUD. Oh. My. God. I originally compared it to the smell of $2 hookers at a lingerie party, but I am leaning more toward the pungent aroma of a lower than low budget porn movie set. After 10 or 15 movies had been filmed. I honestly can't imagine a woman, any woman, letting herself go that much. And I can't imagine the man that would get close to any woman that did. Well. Yes, I can. Remind me one day to tell you about Red.
Once I finally got past all that, and actually cooked the things, they weren't half bad. I admit, it took a couple of shots of vodka to work my nerve up to actually put one in my mouth though. My daughter proclaimed them excellent, which means I will undoubtedly have to make them again. But I now know what to expect. And I think I'll take Dana's advice and spend the extra money to buy Chicken of the Sea from now on.
Bon Appetit!
"Alaskan Pink Salmon" it declared in large white letters. In smaller black letters underneath read the words "Packed in Alaska". Well no kidding. Now keep in mind that on the front of the can it SAYS salmon, with a big pink fish picture. On the back of the can it says, "Ingredients: Pink Salmon, Salt". Just in case you missed the picture and writing on the front. And for the total idiot, it also says "Allergy Warning: Contains Salmon" Needless to say, I was pretty damn sure it was a can of salmon before I opened it. The label lacked the helpful information I really needed.
Nobody warned me about the bones. They should have put THAT little tidbit on the label. They should also have included the fact that you don't have to actually pick out all these little bones. They didn't, of course, so I spent 45 minutes picking out all these tiny little bones. Along with the spine. It wasn't until after I did that, that one of my friends told me all I needed to get out was the spine. So far my salmon experience was not living up to my expectations.
Another warning that I wish they had put on the label...It is NOT grey snot, it's skin. Actually, it wouldn't have changed what I did with the grey snotty skin, because it was revolting. Skin or snot, it went straight down the disposer the second I scraped it off the hunk of fish and bone. But it would have been nice to be warned that it would be there. I'd rather fondle chicken fat.
And finally, I wish that in big letters on the can, it had advised me to open ALL windows and doors, turn on the fan, light candles, spray Febreze, and beg the dog to pass gas. Because canned salmon smells LOUD. Oh. My. God. I originally compared it to the smell of $2 hookers at a lingerie party, but I am leaning more toward the pungent aroma of a lower than low budget porn movie set. After 10 or 15 movies had been filmed. I honestly can't imagine a woman, any woman, letting herself go that much. And I can't imagine the man that would get close to any woman that did. Well. Yes, I can. Remind me one day to tell you about Red.
Once I finally got past all that, and actually cooked the things, they weren't half bad. I admit, it took a couple of shots of vodka to work my nerve up to actually put one in my mouth though. My daughter proclaimed them excellent, which means I will undoubtedly have to make them again. But I now know what to expect. And I think I'll take Dana's advice and spend the extra money to buy Chicken of the Sea from now on.
Bon Appetit!
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Pet Peeves and all that Shit
Life manages to find new and inventive ways to bug the everloving shit out of me, and I have had enough! It burns me up when someone is too busy to talk to you, but they can be posting their ass off on facebook when they are supposedly so busy. Cowboy the hell up and say I don't want to talk to you. Don't lie and say you're busy. Sheesh, thats adding the insult of intelligence to the injury of ignoring someone.
And just while we are at it, how about acting like an adult? I have been surrounded by people who seem to think they have reverted to the fifth grade in the past month. Is it your kid? Then be the freaking dad. Is it NOT your kid? Then decide if you want that responsibility or not. Then act accordingly. Don't want to work? Then QUIT for Christ sake. But if you show up, then is it too much to ask that you actually, you know...WORK? Oh and by the way, you're so vain, you probably think this post is about you! The modern version of the song. I know LOTS of people, and not everything I write has to do with you..or him..or her...or the other him. Believe me, enough goes on behind the scenes of Facebook, that the guilty party is usually very, very aware of a post directed at them.
And I personally would like to legalize removing the hands of a thief, with a dull axe. Sorry, but it irritated the HELL out of me when I finally got video evidence of it. I make $11 freaking bucks an hour to put up with vultures like you. Medicare covers 80% of my daughter's medical expenses. Lets look at dialysis. $45, 000.00 a month. NO, IT'S NOT A TYPO. That's fourty-five THOUSAND dollars a month. That leaves $9,000.00 that I am responsible for. Nine THOUSAND. At $11 an hour. And I DON'T FUCKING STEAL. But you are so hard up that you steal a $5 purse, and a $15 blowdryer??? Really?? I have a Louis Vuitton pack that you can have, because it isn't big enough. In better days, It cost me $750. And a hair dryer that is way better than the $15 piece of shit dryer you stole. I never use it, because I never have time anymore. I think I paid $60 for it. You could have it. If you need it, and I have it, I will GIVE the shit to you. But if you fucking STEAL it, all I wanna give you is an orange jumpsuit. Scumbag.
Oh yeah, and how about the I-don't-like-you-because-he/she-doesn't-like-you mentality. With the shit I deal with on a daily basis, do you think I have the time, energy, or patience for that? Are you fucking kidding me???? If I enjoy your company, for whatever reason, I will try to be friends. But you have stepped outside your fucking mind if you think I am going to beg. I'm grown, and I just don't need you that bad. And I just don't like you that much. Enjoy your fairweather friends. I save my energy for true friendship. And yes, after the past year-and-a-half, I do know what TRUE freinds are.
And at this point, don't even get me started on the bones in the salmon. I'm going to have a drink now. I'll think about it tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is another day!
And just while we are at it, how about acting like an adult? I have been surrounded by people who seem to think they have reverted to the fifth grade in the past month. Is it your kid? Then be the freaking dad. Is it NOT your kid? Then decide if you want that responsibility or not. Then act accordingly. Don't want to work? Then QUIT for Christ sake. But if you show up, then is it too much to ask that you actually, you know...WORK? Oh and by the way, you're so vain, you probably think this post is about you! The modern version of the song. I know LOTS of people, and not everything I write has to do with you..or him..or her...or the other him. Believe me, enough goes on behind the scenes of Facebook, that the guilty party is usually very, very aware of a post directed at them.
And I personally would like to legalize removing the hands of a thief, with a dull axe. Sorry, but it irritated the HELL out of me when I finally got video evidence of it. I make $11 freaking bucks an hour to put up with vultures like you. Medicare covers 80% of my daughter's medical expenses. Lets look at dialysis. $45, 000.00 a month. NO, IT'S NOT A TYPO. That's fourty-five THOUSAND dollars a month. That leaves $9,000.00 that I am responsible for. Nine THOUSAND. At $11 an hour. And I DON'T FUCKING STEAL. But you are so hard up that you steal a $5 purse, and a $15 blowdryer??? Really?? I have a Louis Vuitton pack that you can have, because it isn't big enough. In better days, It cost me $750. And a hair dryer that is way better than the $15 piece of shit dryer you stole. I never use it, because I never have time anymore. I think I paid $60 for it. You could have it. If you need it, and I have it, I will GIVE the shit to you. But if you fucking STEAL it, all I wanna give you is an orange jumpsuit. Scumbag.
Oh yeah, and how about the I-don't-like-you-because-he/she-doesn't-like-you mentality. With the shit I deal with on a daily basis, do you think I have the time, energy, or patience for that? Are you fucking kidding me???? If I enjoy your company, for whatever reason, I will try to be friends. But you have stepped outside your fucking mind if you think I am going to beg. I'm grown, and I just don't need you that bad. And I just don't like you that much. Enjoy your fairweather friends. I save my energy for true friendship. And yes, after the past year-and-a-half, I do know what TRUE freinds are.
And at this point, don't even get me started on the bones in the salmon. I'm going to have a drink now. I'll think about it tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow is another day!
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