Fuck This Shit.
Of course, that term taken literally is really a particular preference of certain Germans, from what I’m told.
If I hear one more gawddamn wedding/engagement announcement this week I’m going to puke.
a) This blogger chick I know (V. Cool, eh)
b) This guy I almost could have dated. (Oh, I once wrote a bad poem about him)
c) This other guy I almost could have dated from college. (We actually had lengthy discussions about porn and he’d call me up to ask if I’d cook him a steak)
d) This other guy I almost would have/shoudl have dated.
Mother.Fucker.
Considering that I have recently re-embraced singlehood (because I’m a coward and selfish and know too well my capacity for insensitive cruelty and ergo broke up with my most recent shmoo) I’m … feeling… oh wait.
I did this rant last year, didn’t I?
And the year before?
And the year before that?
And oh yeah…that one time before that.
Never mind. I’m fine. It’s like I’m sampling my own life for this year’s p-diddy remix.
Oy.
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