Well, so much for a relaxing day at home.
Apparently, it was starting to bother Roachboy that I wasn't mentioning him in my journal. So, he showed my journal to his newest little teenybopper, and let her bitch at me. (Remember, he can't because I've got his ass blocked). CuntFace, his new girlfriend, sent me a rather angry e-mail. So, I'm posting it up for your viewing pleasure.
I WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU THAT I AM NOT A BLOW-UP DOLL, PREGNANT, NOR AM ILIVING IN THE BACK OF A CAR ! AS YOU HAVE MADE MENTION IN ONE OF YOUR PAST JOURNAL ENTRIES. I AM IN FACT ROACHBOY'S GIRLFRIEND! AND WOULD VERY MUCH APPRECIATE YOU NOT WRITING ABOUT EITHER ONE OF US IN THE FUTURE!
CUNTFACE
(ROACHBOY WISHES YOU TO KNOW THAT THE REASON HE HAS NOT DONE ANY WORK ON HIS SITE IS DUE TO THE FACT THAT IT HAS NOT BEEN IN WORKING ORDER)=ROACHBOY DID NOT PUT ME UP TO WRITING ANY OF THIS AND IN FACT DISCOURAGED ME IN THIS VENTURE!!
THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME!
That was special, wasn't it? I'm betting that she's about thirteen at most, only knows him from the internet, and has a horrible acne problem. She's obviously really hard-up and has little self-esteem. She also has the maturity level of an ADD five-year-old.
And that's just what I can tell you offhand.
Of course, I e-mailed her back. I didn't save the first e-mail, because it only took me thirty seconds to write it and I didn't think it was a good representation of my best work. I'll give you a little overview, though. I told her that she obviously has too much free time, and I suggested masturbation as a more productive use of her time. I also pointed out that only idiots type in all caps, and it's bad Netiquette.
Then, I decided I hadn't been insulting enough, and wrote her another e-mail.
And another little thought to brighten your day, sweetheart, since I don't think the last e-mail I sent was insulting enough.
If Roachboy didn't tell you about my site, I'll be amazed, so don't even bother telling me about the protest he made. It was bull, I know how his manipulative little mind works, so forget even sticking up for him. I dated him for two and a half miserable years, honey, so don't even think I care. How old are you anyway, twelve?
Because that's the level of intelligence you showed in your e-mail. Hello? Missy Coyote? If you can't tell I was obviously making fun of Roachboy, you're even stupider than all his other exes...I didn't even know he had a girlfriend, I thought he'd gone through all the girls stupid enough to date him.
And, see, here's the Catch-22. I wasn't going to mention Roachboy anymore, because he gets a sick thrill from it. In fact, I wasn't even going to mention the fact that I wasn't going to mention him, so he wouldn't have the satisfaction.
However, since you sent me this e-mail, I'm going to mention you both!!! Don't you feel stupid? And I'll probably post the entire e-mail up for the whole Internet community to laugh at you.
Love and kisses,
Roachboy's ex.
PS: Don't bother responding, sweetheart. In case you haven't guessed, you're blocked, too.
See, I'm not even going to mention what kind of whore dates a guy who makes a point of sending a nasty e-mail to his ex on the day he knows she's getting an abortion. It takes someone real special to date a prize like that.
So back off, CuntFace. Your sorry-ass boyfriend should have warned you what you were getting into. The fact that he obviously didn't proves that he doesn't really give a shit about you.
Being cruel is what I was raised for.
That was a lovely little note to begin the entry with, wasn't it? I just love it when assholes bother me when I'm already pissed. This is just another lesson that I am trying to teach you guys: People Are Assholes. Especially your ex's stupid new girlfriend that he probably found in a chat room.
I got a package from Glee yesterday. I swear, I'm going to marry her one day. Now I have to get my ass in gear, and send her something. It actually came as a surprise when I got it, because even though she'd been nice enough to warn me that she'd sent it, I promply forgot. (This is what falling down the stairs ten times as a child will do to you) I love you, Glee!
I also got horribly depressed yesterday. I'd been teetering on the edge all day, but talking to C-- pushed me in. He was just being so nice. I couldn't take it. It didn't fit my paradigm. I slumped into a horrible depression, only made more horrible when Dirk was too tired to talk to me. It took me until about midnight or so until I calmed down. And I was still weird while I was talking to a friend of mine via IM.
I was considering getting royally drunk, but I decided that I wouldn't be able to keep quiet if I was drunk (crawling around on the floor can be very noisy). So, I settled for a book and a ciggie.
The people in my office are idiots. For the past couple weeks, I've been typing up this huge binder of reference guides. Unfortunately, I wasn't doing it fast enough, because I only work two days a week. So Linda (my supervisor) got the great idea of getting Letisha (a nice girl) to help me out by typing chapters up when I was gone. I couldn't find a disk in time to show it to Letisha before she left yesterday, so I left the disk, the chapters she needed to type up, and a note explaining everything on her desk. Basically, the disk had a template that she just had to type new information into. Not hard. For humans, that is. She sent me a frantic e-mail today, telling me that the note was too complicated to understand. So, I called work, and found out that I work with idiots. They didn't know how to insert bullets onto the page. They didn't know how to keep the text box from expanding and pushing the stuff underneath it off the page. These are people who make a fuck of a lot more money than me, and they don't know how to do this shit. Your tax dollars at work, guys.
So, I'm probably going to have to re-type all the chapters she did today.