Yeah, well, guess what? I don't really care. On account of APPARENTLY, you don't know what funny IS.
And you're disloyal.
And you probably have sister wife hair.
And you know what else? Your nose resembles a SNOUT and yes, those pants DO make you look fat.
Oh, and one last thing? You really DIDN'T mean that much to me, on account of I don't even know who it is that's missing. I was just using you. Your name was written on the bathroom stall.
And guess what? I DO know who my real friends and followers are, and they get pie for dessert. That's right. Pie.
And roses. And chocolates. And diamond rings.
All on account of being true and faithful, as I am to them.
So go on and slurp up the remnants of my past posts, when you get parched and dehydrated from lack of fantastic creative/funny juices squirting abundantly from my blog. But don't come crawling back here when you find the grass ain't any greener~or less profane~on the other side of the fence.
There are just as many steaming cow pies over there, and you're likely to step in most of them. Enjoy.