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Featured version: 8 December 2006 |
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Monday, January 12, 2026
Dear Jimbo,
I know this might seem like a total violation of the laws of physics to you, seeing as we made all those plans to vacation in the Ivory Coast, and smuggle bits of it home to sell on the black market, but I just don't see things working out that way. I'm sorry about this — at least so long as I remain intoxicated. I just need more men, on some kind of rotating schedule. I want to tell you that I think you are my personal Jiminy Cricket, but I don't think we're right for each other. First of all, we're not really compatible. You are a blathering windbag who needs a nice big cup of shut the fuck up, and I am everything you will never be. You like forcing naughty school children to read the Necronomicon, peeling watermelons, and smelling other people's fingers, and I'm just not sure I can ever share your joy in those things. How can two people so different ever make it for the long haul? I think we should date again, but in another life — preferably a previous one. But I want you to know that I'll think of you whenever I'm pissed off. I'd really like us to become people that pretend they never dated, if that's okay with you. I think we can do it. We had some good times, at least during those many hours of drug and alcohol induced unconsciousness. Take care of yourself and never forget that I'm much happier without you.
~ Princess Peach. |