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[26 Jul 2009|09:02pm] |
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DYL PICKLEZ wrote on her wall: There is nothing worse than a man who talks about himself for an entire an hour and forty-five minutes. No one gives a shit, especially me, that you were once a golden-gloves champion. I don't want to see the tooth that got knocked out in your last fight. I do not care if you've got two Bentleys. Also, do not sit across the table and talk about the 'bad bitches' you get on a daily basis. No one gives a shit at the fact that you got wasted at Rehab and woke up with the same 'bad bitches' in the bed with you. In fact, that's kind of gross and any chance you may have thought you had in fucking me just flew out the fucking window. Which not only means that I wasted a perfectly cute and sexy Herve dress on you, but it also means that me sitting here talking to you for the last two hours was a complete fucking waste of my time. Le sigh. This is why I do not go on blind dates. I would have been much more content in the hotel room ordering all the room service I can digest whilst watching Night of Champions. But no. I had to be here with you. Listening to your fucking stupid ass conversation. And as soon as you turn your fucking head, I'm excusing myself...heading to the bathroom...calling for my car and going to my room. Bitch thing to do, I know, but if I hear one more fucking thing out of this jackasses mouth I am going to punch him in it. Indeed.
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