July 2, 2008
I’m not going to beat around the bush in this obituary, you mean little son-of-a-bitch. You’re leaving me for another man, and I will never forgive you for it. N.E.V.E.R.
When something bad happens to you, you must know that it is karma paying you back for leaving me to follow your stupid boyfriend and his stupid dreams. And trust me, bad things WILL happen. Lots of them. I’m not above planting drugs on you before you get onto an airplane or a cruise ship, throwing a dead man’s hand in your suitcase then leaving the police an anonymous tip, or kidnapping your alcoholic slut of a mother and holding her ransom until you move back to St. Louis.
I’m leveling with you, LawnCare. You should *really* reconsider this move. You honestly have no idea the patented brand of terror that I’m prepared to inflict to get you to stay here. I’ve been in jail more than once – I’m not afraid. And should I die in my quest, don’t for one second think that I will not reach my cold dead hand up straight from Hell and pull you down with me, because I will. Satan owes me that one.
I know that I’ve threatened to kill the child that you want to adopt. But honestly, you’ve known me longer. And although you’d be hard up to admit it, you like me better than Pharmastrist. We both know it.
Therefore, I’m encouraging that you break up with him asap. You’ve got three weeks until you move, and while I hate to see EITHER of you go, I’m willing to settle for losing one as long as the other stays behind. Which one stays? Doesn’t matter. I just want one of you.
Here are your options: Stay here with me, or leave and be absolutely miserable.
R.I.P. LawnCare – dead to me July 2, 2008
July 2, 2008
Ah, Pharmastrist. You had decided to pursue money instead of happiness (being around me on a daily basis) – you were a man after my cold, dead heart. But the cold, pharmacy school to the north in the land of a thousand lakes beckoned to you, and then … in my heart … you were dead.
I remember the first time I saw you was at dinner with LawnCare. You seemed so alive then – so happy to eat good Italian food, and so pleased with the evening. Never did I think that more than just a year later you’d be dead to me. (I also didn’t think at that point that you were wearing women’s shoes or suffering from an anal prolapse, but hey … some surprises are better left discovered than told.)
We’d had a good run of it, you and I, Pharmastrist. We have. (sniffle)
You’ve left me, and I’m not going to lie – I kind of hate you for it. Actually, I really hate you for it. And while I really want to wish you success, I secretly hope for disaster that will bring you happily back to St. Louis where fun adventures and more than one week of summer awaits.
If you end up in St. Louis ever again to live, please know that I will promise not to drop your adopted child down a manhole or into a homeless person’s trashcan as I had threatened to do previously. Perhaps that will sweeten the pot? I didn’t think so.
I will cry because of you. I want you to know that when you leave. When you think of me, think of me crying. And please know, Pharmastrist, that it is all your fault.
RIP: Pharmastrist (2006-2008)
July 1, 2008
is up with people I’ve not heard from in like 6 years from Jesus Tech University, where I went to school, messaging me on MySpace and Facebook? Random. If I’ve not kept in touch with you, I probably didn’t want to.
That said, I turned around and hunted down some friends that I’ve missed. We’ll see what becomes of that.
July 1, 2008
Pharmastrist and LawnCare – two of my best friends – are moving away in less than three weeks. This, in my opinion, is lame.