We all wait for it…that moment that allows the vengeful devil inside of us to fall over in fits of orgasmic laughter.
I sincerely wish that I was a big enough person to wish happiness and good fortune to every person that’s ever been a complete POS to me. I just can’t. I have moments of clarity where I acknowledge my thoughts as both immature and unholy…and then I deem them completely reasonable and justifiable by making myself laugh.
Let’s be honest. There is nothing better in this wide, expansively massive world, than finding out the guy who shattered your heart is dating a new girl…and she looks a bit like this.
People are just mean. I am one of them. However, I am a completely reactive mean.
If you can get one foot inside of my bubble, I will do anything for you. I will be honest with you. I will always be on time. And I will do my absolute best to feign interest in every story that you decide to bestow upon me. I will even remember details to reference in conversations later.
I will move mountains (or at the very least give them an overly eager shove), I will make you soup, I will even let you borrow my toothbrush (and I find that absolutely revolting, btdub).
But piss me off (use me, lie to me, make me cry, call me fat, or touch my dog) and I swear on all that is good and moderately fashionable that I will partner with karma in persuading this universe to dislike you as much as I do.
Or I’ll just let her take care of it. She’s got a pretty good handle on these things.