As it is a Sunday and I began the morning by waking up to a flock of lovebirds outside my window, I put together a great internet post yesterday on depression tips and I baked delicious raisin and carob muffins, I’m actually in a content enough mood to put up with your irritating masculine ways today, without reacting to some of the stuff you, so very graciously, forced yourself to write. If it had’ve been a weekday, after those ridiculous grade 9s, then I definitely would’ve been gunning you down and ‘shouting’ at you… but seeing as you had another little itty bitty headache from once again consuming too much poison, I’ll be nice. Have you not had those headaches a hundred times before? What do they achieve exactly? Or maybe I’m just jealous because I can’t waste all my precious money on stuff I can throw up again. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, I think not.
Please, when you are drunk you can’t even stand on your own two feet, never mind dance. Remember, young lad, we move well together because I lead. I wish you would actually take up some dance classes so I wouldn’t have to be in charge on the dance floor whenever we dance. You’ve been threatening for years. How can you be planning to get married and not be taking dance lessons for that first dance? If you mess up that first dance… um um um… no good Dude, no good; and you know you need lots of practice.
My emails are too long, are they? Well, we can’t have me confusing your little brain now, can we? I’ll just have to change who I am to suit you now, won’t I? I think 3 paragraphs may be what you can handle, yes? I trust your lunch date went well with Alice Brunette and, if it carried on past lunch, you used a condom. Indeed, why should you bother to reply to the most important paragraphs with regards to your soul and your personal lifestyle? Yes, ignore the actually important stuff, yes, yes, quite right. I so don’t have the patience for you right now actually… I’m going to go and eat some muffins. Astalavista Dude
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