Others, unwilling to accept their role as Whore from your Past, linger.
They repeatedly try to climb back on the stage so you'll replay their farewell scene.
And I must say that whenever I'm uncertain as to what to write about, their is always, without fail, some daft cow popping her big nose back into my story.
I'm so tempted to send her a copy of All About Eve if it didn't cost me money, I'd do it.
But I'd sooner set dollar bills on fire before I'd spend any of them on her.
The Schnoze sent me another love letter.
Apparently, she read my blog.
Heh heh.
Disclaimer: I am an uncensored bitch.
If you piss me off I WILL verbally assault you.
And if you can't handle it, DON'T READ IT.
Or better yet, leave me the hell alone.
The truth hurts and you wouldn't be crying your drunk ass to sleep at night if it wasn't overwhelmingly true.
Even your mom knows you're a skank.
It's not the spiteful, vindictive slander that bothers me.
So she talked shit. So she cost me the best paying job I've had.
Whatevs.
Bigger and better things, baby.
I've already been handed gigs as a freelance makeup artist.
And one photographer thought I was so beautiful he's already contacted me to set up a shoot to take MY picture.
Boo hoo.
How will life go on after Nordstrom?
More creatively and artistically fulfilling, that's how.
But slanderous little Schnoze goes and writes me a looong, brambly message because someone obviously sent her word that I took my rage towards her to my writing and she in turn, writes, That was really hurtful and I wish we could have talked about this.
Sure, honey.
And then I'll braid your hair and we'll make parfaits.
And I'll reassure you that those boys in your life don't just hang out with you because they're waiting for you to get drunk and put out.
And no, that doesn't make you a slut.
Whores need love too.
Why can't she just embrace her masculine tendencies and own what she did?
Because if I managed to get rid of my biggest threat and competition I'd be bragging about it.
Yeah, I did it. So what. Handle it. I'm glad you're gone.
But this whole, I'm innocent, I swear, I never said a word, honest I didn't! routine is beyond lame.
Honey.
I'm a professional actress.
Leave the pretending to the pros.
The other absurdity to such a whiny sniveling message is that she also blocked me one day and then unblocked me the next.
It's hard not to notice when you're reading your Facebook messages and there's the little cunt's picture one day, oh and then look, it's a hidden profile pic, oh and then wait, it's back again.
Yeah. Uh huh.
Totally rational, sane behavior.
You know who else has done that?
MY EX LOVER!!
Ahem.
If you don't have a penis, and you haven't buttered my muffin , then maybe you shouldn't be cyber stalking me or caring that I will laugh heartily when you unexpectedly burst into flames.
Just a thought.
This ho can't figure out if she wants to destroy me or she's in love with me.
Maybe she's gonna go Talented Mr. Ripley on my ass and kill me in a boat and then steal my identity.
But this is the sad truth.
She's too young and stupid to realize that every little detail she ran to the manic depressive manager to moan about concerning me was then recounted to me in such specific detail that it is absolutely, positively, beyond a shadow of a doubt impossible for any other human being to have told those stories.
Because no one else was there when they happened.
So no one else could know every minute detail and no one else would be so spiteful to recount them all.
Give up the guise.
Embrace the villainess you are and AT LEAST be genuine.
If you can't be Resafied, be real.
Because pretending is tired.
Whores need rest too.
They meant it for evil but it has already worked for good.
I've remembered how incredible it feels being surrounded by people who are inspired instead of threatened by me.
It's easy to forget when your life has become one thing, one job, one role you're forced to embrace.
And you try and catch your breath with a few close loved ones after your shift has finally ended.
But I am free.
I am a writer. I am a singer.
I am an actor, a model, a dancer.
I'm an entertainer, a lover, an artist.
And I can sell ANYTHING.
And I will excel wherever I go.
And someone is waiting to hire me, to be so grateful they found what they were looking for.
It already happened this week.
And it will continue to happen, in spite of those who try and stop me.
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