Posts tagged guestbreaker

You Hate Yourself (And Everything Else)
Every single time we have a conversation you are SO negative. I mean I could understand if you’re having a bad day but you have bad months. I check on you because I miss you (forgetting how you were), and I ask, “how are things”, you reply with 8 reasons why your life sucks. I say good morning, you say “what’s so good about it?” Every time we talk about a possible relationship you pity yourself and compare yourself to your exes new boyfriend: “He’s smarter, better looking, more fit…” Well, sure, but  how about how he’s positive? Happy? Jubilant? Joyous? Satisfied? Optimistic? Maybe that’s why she likes him!
We could never work, especially not in your mind.
-Written by Bosstalkn

You Hate Yourself (And Everything Else)

Every single time we have a conversation you are SO negative. I mean I could understand if you’re having a bad day but you have bad months. I check on you because I miss you (forgetting how you were), and I ask, “how are things”, you reply with 8 reasons why your life sucks. I say good morning, you say “what’s so good about it?” Every time we talk about a possible relationship you pity yourself and compare yourself to your exes new boyfriend: “He’s smarter, better looking, more fit…” Well, sure, but  how about how he’s positive? Happy? Jubilant? Joyous? Satisfied? Optimistic? Maybe that’s why she likes him!

We could never work, especially not in your mind.

-Written by Bosstalkn


You Hate My Dog
I thought you were the nicest guy ever. I mean, you were nice to the waiter on our first date, and I knew you called your mom once a day. So I thought that you could come over and we could have a casual date and then some sex. But as soon as you walked in and my dog greeted you, you pushed him away and inquired as to why he didn’t live outside.
I could understand if my dog was one of those obnoxious rat-like creatures, or if he had greeted you in a frightening way. But no, he is eighty five pounds of lovable friendliness. 
Wait- You aren’t even allergic to dogs? You just “never liked them?” Please get out of my home, and my life, forever.
Woof.
-Written by Kat

You Hate My Dog

I thought you were the nicest guy ever. I mean, you were nice to the waiter on our first date, and I knew you called your mom once a day. So I thought that you could come over and we could have a casual date and then some sex. But as soon as you walked in and my dog greeted you, you pushed him away and inquired as to why he didn’t live outside.

I could understand if my dog was one of those obnoxious rat-like creatures, or if he had greeted you in a frightening way. But no, he is eighty five pounds of lovable friendliness. 

Wait- You aren’t even allergic to dogs? You just “never liked them?” Please get out of my home, and my life, forever.

Woof.

-Written by Kat


You’re A Fan of Insane Clown Posse
Look, I thought it was great when I found out we shared an interest in music. I was pretty thrilled when we started talking about favorite songs and you mentioned that “Alejandro” by Lady Gaga was your guilty pleasure, because it’s mine as well. And the fact we can sing it together because we both know all the words? Well, that’s just fantastic.
But here’s something that’s not so fantastic. I found out you’re into Insane Clown Posse. I mean, you have several posters of them on your wall. And most of the shirts in your closet had some kind of ICP logo on them. You kept trying to explain that it’s because you’re a Juggalo or something, but I’m having a hard time believing that anyone over the age of five can be so excited about a band of clowns. 
Oh, that’s right, they aren’t clowns, are they? They’re the greatest, as you say, while exclaiming how you’ve been seeing them live for the past few years now in complete clown makeup. Because apparently that’s the only way you can fully understand and appreciate their music. Speaking of which, I have listened to one their songs. Yes, it was moving. It moved me to want to shove a rusty nail through my earlobe. Maybe I’ll never understand how miracles work, but then again, I doubt that ICP will either. And you, unfortunately, because this has to end. 
-Written by Ijustwanttodanceinyourtangles

You’re A Fan of Insane Clown Posse

Look, I thought it was great when I found out we shared an interest in music. I was pretty thrilled when we started talking about favorite songs and you mentioned that “Alejandro” by Lady Gaga was your guilty pleasure, because it’s mine as well. And the fact we can sing it together because we both know all the words? Well, that’s just fantastic.

But here’s something that’s not so fantastic. I found out you’re into Insane Clown Posse. I mean, you have several posters of them on your wall. And most of the shirts in your closet had some kind of ICP logo on them. You kept trying to explain that it’s because you’re a Juggalo or something, but I’m having a hard time believing that anyone over the age of five can be so excited about a band of clowns. 

Oh, that’s right, they aren’t clowns, are they? They’re the greatest, as you say, while exclaiming how you’ve been seeing them live for the past few years now in complete clown makeup. Because apparently that’s the only way you can fully understand and appreciate their music. Speaking of which, I have listened to one their songs. Yes, it was moving. It moved me to want to shove a rusty nail through my earlobe. Maybe I’ll never understand how miracles work, but then again, I doubt that ICP will either. And you, unfortunately, because this has to end. 

-Written by Ijustwanttodanceinyourtangles


You Never Use Condoms.
I was shocked when you said you would never go down on a girl, but I blew you anyway. Because I liked you. You said I had skills, I liked you even more. I ignored the fact that I wasn’t going to experience the same body shaking pleasure because you were an inconsiderate broseph who would never let his tongue go to town on my lady bits. I even ignored the fact that your dick was below average and that you didn’t even try to tame the mess of hair covering your balls. Why? Because for some reason unbeknownst to me, I liked you. I was so smitten with you that I wanted to have sex with you even though we weren’t in a relationship. You were into the idea. I was ecstatic. But wait, what’s that? You don’t use condoms? You “pull out”? You won’t even CONSIDER using one with me?
Excuse me while I go slip into something a little more (un)comfortable… a chastity belt. Because the only way you’re getting past this lock is with a Trojan.
Written by rianna-g.

You Never Use Condoms.

I was shocked when you said you would never go down on a girl, but I blew you anyway. Because I liked you. You said I had skills, I liked you even more. I ignored the fact that I wasn’t going to experience the same body shaking pleasure because you were an inconsiderate broseph who would never let his tongue go to town on my lady bits. I even ignored the fact that your dick was below average and that you didn’t even try to tame the mess of hair covering your balls. Why? Because for some reason unbeknownst to me, I liked you. I was so smitten with you that I wanted to have sex with you even though we weren’t in a relationship. You were into the idea. I was ecstatic. But wait, what’s that? You don’t use condoms? You “pull out”? You won’t even CONSIDER using one with me?

Excuse me while I go slip into something a little more (un)comfortable… a chastity belt. Because the only way you’re getting past this lock is with a Trojan.

Written by rianna-g.


You’re an Asshole When You Drive
I get it! You have places to go, people to see. Your life is just so important and so busy that everyone else in the free world should take notice and clear the way because, guess what, you’ve got things to do and you’ve got to let EVERYONE know!Why should you waste your precious time getting from Point A to Point B by obeying traffic laws or sharing the blessed roads that have obviously been paved just for you? Those other people don’t have jobs or appointments to get to, and they certainly don’t have lives that run on fucking schedules! Just because a trip down the road should only take you 10 minutes, it doesn’t mean you can’t make it in three! Safety and fellow passengers be damned—you are immune to death.Four cars in front of you are following the speed limit? They’re adding precious seconds to your normal commute? HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE! Show them who’s boss—go ahead and endanger countless lives while you recklessly pass them! And, hey, intimidate them while you’re at it! A few carefully chosen words hurled their way (that they’ll never actually hear through their rolled up windows, but they’ll feel your rage regardless), with a few delicate hand gestures thrown in for good measure, will do wonders for your drive time! Road rage? Nah, it’s just “Road Responsibility”! Give yourself props and a pat on the back as you careen down those busy roadways because, hey, your cavalier attitude is certainly your best attribute. You know how to take charge!These blasted people, these fellow drivers that you’ll most likely never share a road with again, they’ll certainly change their ways once your two-second interaction is complete! They’ll think, “Hey, this person is on to something! Maybe if I honk my horn 20 times and ride someone’s bumper ‘til it falls off…well, maybe all these donkeys on the road will begin to care about my time and my schedule and stop going about their pathetic lives like the lesser people they are!”You are, quite obviously, the ruler of the road, and if people don’t notice, make them.
-Written by TotallyNotKelsey

You’re an Asshole When You Drive

I get it! You have places to go, people to see. Your life is just so important and so busy that everyone else in the free world should take notice and clear the way because, guess what, you’ve got things to do and you’ve got to let EVERYONE know!

Why should you waste your precious time getting from Point A to Point B by obeying traffic laws or sharing the blessed roads that have obviously been paved just for you? Those other people don’t have jobs or appointments to get to, and they certainly don’t have lives that run on fucking schedules! Just because a trip down the road should only take you 10 minutes, it doesn’t mean you can’t make it in three! Safety and fellow passengers be damned—you are immune to death.

Four cars in front of you are following the speed limit? They’re adding precious seconds to your normal commute? HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE! Show them who’s boss—go ahead and endanger countless lives while you recklessly pass them! And, hey, intimidate them while you’re at it! A few carefully chosen words hurled their way (that they’ll never actually hear through their rolled up windows, but they’ll feel your rage regardless), with a few delicate hand gestures thrown in for good measure, will do wonders for your drive time! Road rage? Nah, it’s just “Road Responsibility”! Give yourself props and a pat on the back as you careen down those busy roadways because, hey, your cavalier attitude is certainly your best attribute. You know how to take charge!

These blasted people, these fellow drivers that you’ll most likely never share a road with again, they’ll certainly change their ways once your two-second interaction is complete! They’ll think, “Hey, this person is on to something! Maybe if I honk my horn 20 times and ride someone’s bumper ‘til it falls off…well, maybe all these donkeys on the road will begin to care about my time and my schedule and stop going about their pathetic lives like the lesser people they are!”

You are, quite obviously, the ruler of the road, and if people don’t notice, make them.

-Written by TotallyNotKelsey


You Only Like Girls Who “Look Like They Are Intelligent”?
So I get it. You like smart chicks. I can support that. Well, wait…you only like girls who “look like they are intelligent”?  What’s that supposed to mean? Oh…brunettes with glasses. Because having brown hair and myopia makes you a much more analytical thinker. I see. So, when I was too broke to afford hair dye and contacts, I was an alluring, nerdy, intellectual type…but now that I have a job and can afford my henna and contacts habit, I somehow lost IQ points? Well, you certainly have a “type”, don’t you? Such an unusual one, too. It must have been a struggle to come up with, really.  Well, guess what! I have a type, too! Men who are interested in real women, not just an easily porn-searchable fetish.  For your information, I was reading Shakespeare for fun in the third grade.  Which was, incidentally, before you were born. I was reading books on ancient history and quantum physics before you could check out a book from the library that had more pictures than words. I may not look the part, but this is life, not a movie. Congratulations on being pedantic.
-Written by Cawlein

You Only Like Girls Who “Look Like They Are Intelligent”?

So I get it. You like smart chicks. I can support that. Well, wait…you only like girls who “look like they are intelligent”?  What’s that supposed to mean? Oh…brunettes with glasses. Because having brown hair and myopia makes you a much more analytical thinker. I see. So, when I was too broke to afford hair dye and contacts, I was an alluring, nerdy, intellectual type…but now that I have a job and can afford my henna and contacts habit, I somehow lost IQ points? Well, you certainly have a “type”, don’t you? Such an unusual one, too. It must have been a struggle to come up with, really.  Well, guess what! I have a type, too! Men who are interested in real women, not just an easily porn-searchable fetish.  For your information, I was reading Shakespeare for fun in the third grade.  Which was, incidentally, before you were born. I was reading books on ancient history and quantum physics before you could check out a book from the library that had more pictures than words. I may not look the part, but this is life, not a movie. Congratulations on being pedantic.

-Written by Cawlein


I’VE ALREADY HAD SEX WITH YOU
 When I saw you standing by the bar at Olive Garden, my heart was all a flutter. You were so classy, and your NFL-themed tramp stamp helped me think up my opening line about “tight ends.” Who knew you were so far along in cosmetology school? I don’t mind saying, I was a little intimidated! Still, with the help of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, I got you back to my place. But you hesitated when I told you I was allergic to condoms. Luckily, you accepted the truth when you saw my medic-alert bracelet with the words “NO FUCKING RUBBERS!” scratched into the back. I’m sorry we didn’t get around to fulfilling your needs, I am, but I was worn out from all the oral sex you gave me in the Olive Garden custodial closet.
Now that we’re done, I’ve started to notice some of your… shall we say “imperfections”? For one thing, your hair is all messed up; ever think I might be worth “trying” a little harder? Also, you’ve got jizz on your face and you smell like crotch. Some guys are cool with that kind of thing, but I think it just shows an inattention to detail. And I am nothing if not detail oriented. Finally, I can’t help but notice I’VE ALREADY HAD SEX WITH YOU. Sorry Tyfani, even guys have dealbreakers, and that’s mine.
Written (in character) by wireless G.

I’VE ALREADY HAD SEX WITH YOU

 When I saw you standing by the bar at Olive Garden, my heart was all a flutter. You were so classy, and your NFL-themed tramp stamp helped me think up my opening line about “tight ends.” Who knew you were so far along in cosmetology school? I don’t mind saying, I was a little intimidated! Still, with the help of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, I got you back to my place. But you hesitated when I told you I was allergic to condoms. Luckily, you accepted the truth when you saw my medic-alert bracelet with the words “NO FUCKING RUBBERS!” scratched into the back. I’m sorry we didn’t get around to fulfilling your needs, I am, but I was worn out from all the oral sex you gave me in the Olive Garden custodial closet.

Now that we’re done, I’ve started to notice some of your… shall we say “imperfections”? For one thing, your hair is all messed up; ever think I might be worth “trying” a little harder? Also, you’ve got jizz on your face and you smell like crotch. Some guys are cool with that kind of thing, but I think it just shows an inattention to detail. And I am nothing if not detail oriented. Finally, I can’t help but notice I’VE ALREADY HAD SEX WITH YOU. Sorry Tyfani, even guys have dealbreakers, and that’s mine.

Written (in character) by wireless G.