Tuesday, November 11, 2003

Oh, Remembrance Day, Remembrance Day ... have mercy on my soul when I say this: I left my poppy at home. It was an honest mistake for a honest tramp-ass ho (*heh, beat ya to it ...). I left it on my dress a few days earlier and wasn't exactly motivated to get another one.

So my friend and I talked about how I give too much credit to guys. Which makes sense, since I'm almost always the first one to say, "He's not so bad. It's just a cute quirk he has; mauling old women with shopping carts." It doesn't help when these phallic creatures constantly and consistently moan about wanting a girl who is unlike-the-one-they-just-so-happen-to-be-currently-dating. But when it comes time for brains to step up to boobs, brains always ends up hugging herself, spitting blood into a can, as the coach regrettably throws in the snot-caked towel. Her confidence, slashed. Her yearning for companionship, dashed.

This, I guess, "revelation" is what makes ignoring anyone associated with Tequila Skank(s) that much easier. No more, let's-make-myself-noticeable-in-his-general-vicinity, because guess what: It hasn't been working. He's looking in the direction of that herd of near-naked cattle and he's not about to peel his peepers away any time soon ... especially, for you. To think, I saved myself thousands of dollars in future therapist fees just by discovering this tiny tidbit of information. Like Ron Livingston* once said in episode #78 of Sex and the City: "He's just not that into you." And no amount of idealising is ever going to change that.

And no, this bitterness did not stem from any single event that occurred today. This is just me, having a rare moment of clarity.

*Ron Livingston (Peter from Office Space of "She fucked Lumbergh!"-fame) has the same birthday as me: June 5th. Sharing this date with a celebrity other than Mark "Good Vibrations" Wahlberg is deathly refreshing.

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