Women can suck my sweaty balls
I was IM’ing with my Ex-girlfriend the other day and she had this to say about one of my posts:

So yeah it’s official: I HATE WOMEN. And if by any chance I ever get a girlfriend again, I am going to cheat on her constantly. Like, all the time.
In fact, I now intend to get a girlfriend for the sole purpose of doing the following:
- Get some weird-ass STD; preferably Human Papilloma Virus and genital warts.
- Infect the girlfriend with the aforementioned STD.
- Get addicted to expensive designer drugs; an addiction which will be secretly funded by the girlfriend’s savings account.
- Punch girlfriend’s father in the throat.
- Poison girlfriend’s cat.
- Murder girlfriend’s brother with my shoe.
These are all I can think of so far but I’m sure I’ll come up with more as the embers of my hatred for women burn hotter.
Whatever. Now I feel depressed. I think I’m going to go ahead and whittle what’s left of my self esteem by languishing away in some beer house, getting plastered to a point where I wouldn’t be able to recognize basic shapes and colors while trying to strike a conversation like this with a GRO:
GRO: “So what do you do?”
Me: “I’m a TV writer.”
GRO: [unimpressed] “Really? Anything I’d be familiar with?”
Me: “I write scripts for Master Showman.”
GRO: [not believing for one second] “uhuh.”
Me: “So if I slip you an extra 200 pesos will you suck my bird? Or give me a hand job in the parking lot at least?”
GRO: “I don’t think so Kuya Germs.”
Yay. Fucking Yay.
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