1) David Letterman and who he screwed. But if he’d screwed me, a full law school tuition would have been nice.
2) Jon, Kate, or the eight. I have never watched this show, and didn’t even know about it until this year. Get this dimebag whore and her douchebag ex off my TV, which I continually keep OFF lately. “I’ll work at McDonald’s if I have too!” Fuck you, whore. At least you have a CAR. Bite me.
3) Roman Polanski, unless I’m watching Knife in the Water. Now you know.
Just make it all go away. Make this fucking YEAR go away. I have never been so depressed in all my life. Would YOU like to live in solitary confinement? Really? Come live my fucking life. Live in a town with NO public transportation, out in a tiny one bedroom apartment on a road that has nothing but strip malls and two Publixes. Yes, I’m gonna try and be a BAG GIRL next. Because that’s why I wasted four fucking years of college and all that money from my parents, and my student loans I took forever to pay off forever. So I can bag someone’s groceries. I should have never aspired to be anything. Because I’ve become nothing.
Thanks for teaching me this lesson, God. I’m loving living in solitary confinement. I will end up dead, nothing but a hank of hair and a ratty old Vampire Weekend T-shirt, watching reruns of Real Chance of Love on VH-1.
Welcome to my hell. Don’t you wish you could join me in the seventh layer?
And if by some chance my former employer is reading this, which is doubtful — but she is a stalker — karma’s a bitch, and I hope you choke on your Harry Winstons and you suffer 100-fold for all the evil you’ve done, you worthless rag of shit.
There. I feel better.