The fact of the matter is that I am a sucker. I am a sucker for creativity. I am a sucker for a good joke and I am a sucker for a guy who tells me I am perfect then proceeds to treat me like shit. Why oh why am I so predictable? In the face of another dreadful decision I am left alone on the living room floor to ponder my series of bad choices that I laughingly refer to as my life. Perhaps I shall be one of those women like Helen Fielding or Candace Bushnell who turn years of mistakes into millions of dollars. Or perhaps I will end up like the nameless faceless many, alone Saturday save for the cat. (Note to self: Do not under any circumstances buy a cat)
Safe to say, for now I am just a sucker.
your papa tried to coment and blogger wouldn't let him.
ReplyDeleteAgain I say, "Fuck that guy."
ReplyDelete