Let’s be honest here (because since when am I anything but?), I hate confrontation. In fact, I hate it so much, I’d rather bitch about you on this here blog than tell you in person. Well, “you” not YOU, since you read this blog, I’m not talking about You, but rather, “you”.
So, I get these emails yesterday. People in my life, I dunno, caught on that I’m pissed. How’s that? Is it because I hide my feelings like Paris Hiltion’s cleavage? Is it because I stand out like midget wrestling? Is it because I wrote more than a few posts about you and you read them, by some freakish accident, like you actually stopped in? Who knows, at any rate, people found out I am pissed.
There are times I think it’s easier to just be mad. It’s easier to just get pissed off and stay pissed off. Honestly, if the option is “working it out” and “talking it through” and “opening up and being honest,” well, I’d rather try on size six jeans with crabs. Talk about uncomfortable. But I guess this is “being the bigger person” and getting over your shit. Guess I got shit to get over. ‘Tis the season and all that.
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