Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Are you kidding me?

I received this email today. TODAY. On my freakin' BIRTHDAY.

I know that this comes as a great shock and this is probably the last thing that you need to deal with. There are several things that I have carried on my shoulders for quite some time and I would like for you to hear me out. I can completely understand if you do not want to waste your time at all. A small portion of your time just to listen would be greatly appreciated. Honestly, I know that you most assuredly would rather me fall of the face of the Earth forever and I have accepted this. I will completely honor the decision you make and if unfavorable, this will be the last that you will hear from me again. Correspondence through e-mail is fine but what needs to be said should be face to face.

Hmm....where to begin?

You're right Mr. Assface McAsshat, you're the LAST thing I would choose to deal with today. IT'S MY FREAKIN' BIRTHDAY, IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU, IT'S ABOUT ME!!! Dammit.

You want a favor from me? You want me to hear you out?? Let's see, the last time I tried to be nice to you I sent you a friendly birthday card thru the post office and you took it as a curse. But now, NOW you're asking me to pause from my life so that you can whine and cry about these burdens you've been carrying on your shoulders for all these years.

You mention talking to me but you make no mention of talking to my child, whom you scared the bejesus out of at our parting. You know, the one that involved the cops and a restraining order? What about him? Where's the apology to that sweet little boy? Oh, I forgot, it's all about YOU and what YOU need.

I most certainly do not wish for you to fall off the face of the Earth. I wish nothing for you, period.

You know, I heard about your little visit to our mutual friends' house and the apology over the pool stick. The pool stick that you broke about 8 years ago and were too much of a punk to say you were wrong and that you were sorry and you'd replace it when you lost the game (or shot). Eight. Years. Ago.

Fuck that.

I'm gonna go eat some cake, jerk.

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