Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Why, oh, why must you suck me dry?
Alright. Listen up, woman. I love you to death. I'm pretty sure you're the devil, or at the very least some sort of demon sent to fuck up my life because of some awful karma from a previous incarnation, but hey, I love your evil ass. The thing is... I'm broke as shit. You KNOW I'm broke as shit. How do you expect me to pay the mortgage, the bills, buy groceries, while you sit at home day after day doing shit all? You're a leech. A blood-swollen, feisty motherfucking leech. And you're draining me dry, like a fat kid sucking the juice out of his KoolAid Jammer. I'm keeping receipts. I'm tracking this shit. And if you break up with me, I want a goddamn refund. —Pathetic & In Love
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