listen up you pushy, ignorant yankee hick.
i’m sorry that after living here for seven months you still don’t have any friends. i’m sorry that the one other couple you hung out with has been avoiding you since summer. but you know what? i understand. and even though you wouldn’t recognize a clue if i handed it to you on a silver platter, i’m going to try to help you out.
you smother people. yes, i’m grateful that you’ve showed me around the office and trained me to do my job. but i’m ok now. and i appreciate your concern over my pregnancy. but you do NOT have to hover over me constantly asking if i’m ok, asking if i need a new chair, asking if i need some water, on and on and on. you did not have to grab my arm while we were waiting to cross the street and announce that you don’t want “the pregnant lady to get hit by a car.” like i said then, i’m pregnant, not blind. i’m not about to walk out into the middle of a busy street in front of dozens of oncoming cars. i was standing still!
and just so you know, you know exactly dick about pregnancy. all of your concerns and advice are based on myths and old wives tales, much like 90% of everything else that comes out of your mouth. your political opinions are totally ignorant; you sound like a 12 year old parroting idiotic liberal crap that you don’t even understand. i don’t have a problem with liberals. i know plenty of intelligent, well-educated liberals. and they’d be ashamed to be associated with you.
i don’t give a flying fuck what your opinion on gun control is. you do not get to tell my kids that they can’t play with nerf guns. you do not get to tell mr. angel that he shouldn’t play with nerf guns.
i know that you think you can push your husband around, and control every tiny aspect of his life by threatening to throw out any toys you didn’t want him to buy or getting upset over his daydreams of doing silly things like running over our jerk boss or building a giant catapult to hurl refridgerators. nevermind that he thinks you’re a nagging bitch, it’s none of my business if you want to screw your marriage up. but listen closely, if i don’t think it’s my job to tell mr. angel what to do, it sure as hell is not your job. and for every pitying look you toss my way thinking that i’m some poor trampled on little doormat, i’m throwing one your husband’s way knowing what a nagging bitch he thinks you are.
one more thing. nobody cares about the self-inflicted soap opera going on in your hometown of shitsville, maine. no one feels sorry for your slut sister. she’s the one who was stupid enough at 15 to take back the 20 year old asshole who left her for a 10 year old girl (yes, literally, no exageration). and no one was all that surprised to find out that jerkface was still fucking both of them. and you are the only person in the room who thinks that beating the crap out of the 10 year old is a reasonable solution.
god you are an obnoxious person. if only your husband and mine didn’t get on so well. or, hell, if only you’d let your husband go somewhere, anywhere, without you so that he and mr. angel could hang out just the two of them. you wouldn’t even leave work when your shift was over so that your own husband could buy your birthday gift when you weren’t around. you had to wait around until he finally got off at nine and make him drive you home before going back out to wal*mart.
you know, we could be friends. we could. if you would just chill out and back off and give people some breathing room.
please!
