heart breaker

mcshit with a side of lies, anyone?

I can blame it on the fumes from the fireworks at New Years. I can also blame it on my biological clock that seems to be stuck in a metal box that is amplifying the ticking and making it really, bloody annoying - driving me to lose all better judgement. I can also blame it on my complete lack of judgment. But then why play the blame-game? Especially, when it’s me I’m playing with?

This is in reference to The Guy I was supposedly, sorta, kinda seeing in the beginning of the year.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen he turned out to be a McShit with lies on the side, and Lady Luck decided to super-size me.

Not only did he put me through immense mental trauma (I’m talking about the jealousy-kind) he has now decided to bad mouth me to his posse – within ear-shot of mine – just so I can find out the nastiest way – through the grapevine.

If that wasn’t enough, I have to deal with his smug ‘I’m-so-super-cool-with-my-long-bloody-hair-and-my-big-bloody-Mercedes-and-my-bloody-tattoos’ attitude every bloody day.

Apparently I sure know how to pick ‘em. In fact I think I am like honey to the B’s (and F’s and C’s and M’s – and all the other nasty words you can think of)

Just for once I would like the big deli in the sky to give me my order.

Super-sized McNice - Happy Meal, hold the nasty.