OK. In my internet stalkings, my newest obsession, I would just to say that I have found common thread with that bitch dating the redhead. OK. And here is the update:
1.) She's with the brother; bitch landed a doctor.
2.) We share common origins!
3.) She's dorky and well-read, therefor, most likely not as much fun as me.
4.) Society agrees: I'm in need of being committed.
5.) By the way, I've decided he's not that serious anyway. Who wants what you can have?!
OK. So back in reality:
Met a new guy, a bit short but owns his own buisness. And everyone knows that short men stand on their millions. So here we go again! At least until I leave the continent. His name is Cory, which is too eighties for my taste, but then, I hate all straight men reguardless of name so this predjudice must be ignored. I've decided I put too much emphasis on this exhausting search and need to focus on all the fabulous stories I have to tell about my failed relationships as opposed to feeling like a failure due to them. Failure is no fun; free dinners are!
And I'm getting sick of that smug look on Jen's face whenever she points out that she was engaged at my age. She didn't have half the looks, talent, wit or personality I've got which is why she had to get married; that bitch had no friends!
She needed to throw the wedding; people just showed up for the pasta!
Have I mentioned Mother's Day is soon approaching?
Oh, Mother Dearest, I'm just the improvement of your genes...
Other than that, finally got around to doing my laundry and have realized that I own way too many clothes. I don't even remember some of these outfits!
So tell me why I can't throw them out?!
Oh yes. I have made a scary discover. Does anyone remember Mary Janes with construction boot soles? I owned and noticed today, still own a pair. And a plaid mini dress and black knee highs to match!
Ninetieslicious.
(Now all we need is that bark brown lipstick I loved... Viva la Grunge Years!)
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