Saturday, February 21, 2009


Many years ago, when I was but a naive Cygirl, I dated a guy who I thought was Prince Charming and would whisk me off to his castle in his vintage Chevy truck where I would bear his children and loll about being pampered constantly.

I found out after two years that he was more like the things that came out of the Hellmouth that Buffy had to keep stabbing through the heart with a wooden stake.

In short, he was a lying sackashit, dumber than a sack of hair ratbastard.

My point?

He keeps requesting me as a friend on Facebook. I keep ignoring his requests, but he keeps a-asking.

In his profile picture, he's doing the Shocker hand gesture. Seriously. He's 34 fucking years old. Douchebag.

You know, it WAS a long time ago, and frankly, I'm over it. My friends, however, are not. When I forwarded the initial request to my girls... woooweeee. My delicate ears have never heard such language. Stace said-

"OH MY GOD. I have no words. Wait, I have one. FUCKER."

And I'm pretty sure a blue cloud is still hanging over Casey's condo in Chicago.

I'd approve his request for the LOLZ, but I apparently don't live too far from him, and I wouldn't be too hard to find. And I have no, nada, nyet desire to have him show up on my stoop, prostrating himself at the cute-shoe-clad feet of The One Who Got Away Because He Was A Jackass.

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