Monday, November 10, 2003

I hate girls with shitty attitudes. Especially, shitty girls who are well on their way to the Betty Ford Clinic. I met one such example today in class. Depending on your perspective ... no, screw that. Either way, she's an alcoholic whore.

I was talking to someone about the newspaper I'm running, and from my right, I hear a voice. The type of voice that gets your senses going mad crazy:

"Why don't you ... go back to your seat ... and do something productive, for once?"

I stared at her. The words, "Why don't you move back in with Captain Morgan?" was this close to escaping the tip of my tongue. But I froze. The thought of an angry mentally retarded talking vagina with beer in her veins, who might wait at my doorstep to avenge her honour, scared me shitless. Not to mention the fact that she had a pencil in her hand, which may or may not have been aimed at my eye to begin with.

Speaking of shitty girls. The same one still owes me money. She told me it was for food, but for someone who spends more time with her face in the toilet (or on someone's lap), I'm thinking she's a dick-licking liar.

She's Fraulein Fuck. I hope she gets run over by a Molson truck. Ah ... sweet, sweet, irony.

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