Damn it all to hell!

Everything’s going wrong.
Everything. Remember that chick I was teaching watercolours to? The one who wasn’t exactly in the age of majority? I might be getting into trouble with her, because Gabby is a backstabbing, lying, cheating bitch who doesn’t know which way the goddamn toilet paper faces.
So I get up this afternoon from my normal nap, and I check my voicemail. That’s just what I do.
I hear her grating, horrible, insanely annoying voice (which is even more shrill and nerve-grating in bed) saying, [imagine this in a horribly nasal tone]
“Jaaaaaaaaaaaaack, I need to taaaaaalk to youuu. I hearrrrd you were fuckiiing an unnnderaaage girrrrrrl [no shit, I told you. But it wasn’t exactly fucking.] and wannnteed to maaake suuuure you weren’t gooiinnnng to dooo anything mooorrrre….be caaaaaareful, Jaaaaaack. The cops could finnnnnd ouuuuuut.”

Long story short: If I don’t do what she wants, she’s going to rat me. The damn bitch.
Let he who is without sin cast the first stone! Who out of you would refuse a hot cherry like I had? And refuse her I did!...Sort of. She’s still cherry, anyways.
God, she’s probably on the rag. Is there a single woman in the universe who is unaffected by her period? If you do…man, send me your number. I want to marry you.

Depending on her cycle, a woman is a bitch for one week out of every three or four. That’s around 33% of her life—being a bitch. God damn!

On another note: Does anyone else hate that stupid “My hump my hump my hump my hump my hump I’m a get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump, my lovely lady lumps my hump my hump my hump my hump my hump my hump” song? I hate it so much I had to LimeWire it to get it out of my head.