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www.sassysideup.com
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Sunday, February 8, 2009
The Boy is Mine
Oh ho HO! Oh, no you DIDN’T! Are you kidding me?! No seriously. Is this a joke? Please tell me you’re kidding. I truly can’t wrap my mind around how beyond ridiculous this is. It HAS to be a joke. You completely out your damn mind if you think your trickery is getting you anywhere! I don’t think you know who you’re dealing with. I have no problem whatsoever showing you your competition…but that would be insinuating that there is actually a contest. There is no contest. You lose. You lost a long time ago. I trump you, times ten.
If you know me at all, you know that I can be extremely possessive, highly protective, and pretty jealous. The jealousy typically no longer applies to many things where Dorian’s concerned, because hey, I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere and I don’t have to worry about any other girl catching his attention. It is safe to say that “The boy is mine…”
And though I am completely confident of my status in that man’s heart, there are apparently a couple people who may need to be informed that he can officially be labeled as TAKEN (and HAPPY about it!). They seem to think that they can finagle their way back in …or something twisted along those lines. My opinion of these people is the lowest of low. They strike me as manipulative, immature, foul, catty, petty, idiotic, naïve, classless, scheming, controlling, fake Dirty Pirate Hookers. And I’ve informed them, very colorfully, of their insignificance many times…but only in my mind…because, hello? I’m Passive Aggressive.
The fact alone that they think they can work their way back into Dorian’s life, in any venue, is actually quite hilarious. And watching them try, absolutely takes the cake. I do not feel threatened by them in any way, shape or form. Because as long as we’re talking about shape and form ::snicker:: I’m a Stone Cold Fox compared to these slutty mc-slut bags. And if you know anything about how insecure I am about how I look…and how hard I am on my size and fitness, you know what I’m saying about these girls. Ha HA! I’m insulting them, a lot. And I don’t feel a moment’s guilt about it. I truly have nothing good to say about them.
They clearly have no sense of right and wrong. This man is married. Back. Off. I mean, I could help you back off with a hefty punch to the face with the ROCK on my left hand. Oh, I’m sorry, have you not seen the evidence? Because it’s pretty clear. Come here, let me show you. Oh, you can see it from there? You’re blinded, you say? That’s what I thought. Now let me give you an additional piece of advice: Drop it. Stop trying to contact, my husband. With every single feeble attempt, we laugh at you more. That’s right, we mock you. HE mocks you. I mean seriously, take the tiny shred of pride that you may or may not have left, and walk away. Because believe me, we’re running away from you.
If you know me at all, you know that I can be extremely possessive, highly protective, and pretty jealous. The jealousy typically no longer applies to many things where Dorian’s concerned, because hey, I’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere and I don’t have to worry about any other girl catching his attention. It is safe to say that “The boy is mine…”
And though I am completely confident of my status in that man’s heart, there are apparently a couple people who may need to be informed that he can officially be labeled as TAKEN (and HAPPY about it!). They seem to think that they can finagle their way back in …or something twisted along those lines. My opinion of these people is the lowest of low. They strike me as manipulative, immature, foul, catty, petty, idiotic, naïve, classless, scheming, controlling, fake Dirty Pirate Hookers. And I’ve informed them, very colorfully, of their insignificance many times…but only in my mind…because, hello? I’m Passive Aggressive.
The fact alone that they think they can work their way back into Dorian’s life, in any venue, is actually quite hilarious. And watching them try, absolutely takes the cake. I do not feel threatened by them in any way, shape or form. Because as long as we’re talking about shape and form ::snicker:: I’m a Stone Cold Fox compared to these slutty mc-slut bags. And if you know anything about how insecure I am about how I look…and how hard I am on my size and fitness, you know what I’m saying about these girls. Ha HA! I’m insulting them, a lot. And I don’t feel a moment’s guilt about it. I truly have nothing good to say about them.
They clearly have no sense of right and wrong. This man is married. Back. Off. I mean, I could help you back off with a hefty punch to the face with the ROCK on my left hand. Oh, I’m sorry, have you not seen the evidence? Because it’s pretty clear. Come here, let me show you. Oh, you can see it from there? You’re blinded, you say? That’s what I thought. Now let me give you an additional piece of advice: Drop it. Stop trying to contact, my husband. With every single feeble attempt, we laugh at you more. That’s right, we mock you. HE mocks you. I mean seriously, take the tiny shred of pride that you may or may not have left, and walk away. Because believe me, we’re running away from you.
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