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Tag Archives: bitch

When I got up this morning, after a long night of debauchery, I stumbled downstairs and checked my phone.  Through bleary eyes, I saw a message from Marian.  And another.  And another.  And another.

Hey, are you doing anything today?  I thought we could grab lunch.

Are you there?

Are you mad at me?

You don’t have to ignore me.

Real mature, asshole.

Umm.  Okay.

A few seconds later, I tapped out the following response:

Sorry, was out late with a colleague. Got up late, didn’t mean to miss your messages. But you just crossed the fine line between concerned and crazy bitch. So, we’re done. Don’t bother contacting me again.

I know it was one time, but really, one time is all it takes.  I feel like I narrowly avoided a really bad situation here.  Like I was bending backward Matrix-style while bullets of crazy whizzed past me at a speed of batshit bonkers.  I’m The One, people.

Me:  “So what, you’re saying I can dodge bitches?”
Morpheus:  “No, Bi.  I’m saying, when you’re ready… you won’t have to.”

I don’t know why I find that so very amusing.  I think it’s the residual bits of exhaustion.  I haven’t had quite enough coffee this morning.

Fuck, is it even morning anymore?

That’s it.  Yoga.

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