
I have officially had it. In my not so short life time, I have been told in great nauseating detail of friends' maladies ,incontinence problems and cheating whorish ways. 'Friends' randomly seek me out for diagnosis of rashes and other nasties- Like I'm Dr. B. Medicine Bitch, not to mention the occasional and 'So, I was doing my boyfriend with a strap on....' confessions.
First of all, none of these bitches REALLY want the truth. YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH! Yes, I think you are stupid, that shit looks nasty.. and YES- YOUR MAN IS A HOMOSEX!
I know that I am an open minded kinda gal, and NOTHING (sadly) shocks me anymore. And I love my friends to death, seriously. But for the love of Junebug, I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!
I promise you, I will totally think we are friends, if you manage to keep some things private. I don't want to hear about your man's peen size or the fact that he had an accident in Boy Scouts and now has one ball. ENOUGH!!!!
Usually I take it in stride, but I have noticed a lot of these selfish broads barely ask how I'm doing, before they go into their DRAMA OF THE DAY.
So tell you what, go tell someone who gives a shit, Mother Confessor is off duty! And bitches, be a better friend to your sin- confessor. She knows ALLLLLLL your nasty business! Treat her to a Pinkberry or something. Damn.
lol...I dont mind it. I have tough skin
ReplyDeletebut yeah..they wack when they dont ask you about how your day went or even if you mind listening to that crap
Right, At least buy a sister a cup of joe for her troubles!
ReplyDeleteMan, you don't even know how close to home this hits...
ReplyDeleteI feel like Mother Confessor ALL DAY LONG... I know some real ass-backwards ish about my friends.