Hello angry bastard. I know you hate me right now, but because you loved me before last Friday, which is when you started hating my guts, I know we still have hope. I swear I did not mean to:
1. Bitch-punch you for dubbing my earring off at the ULK party (but it was pretty and from outside countries. Stupid)
2. Vomit in your mouth
3. Get lost that many times. Don’t blame me banaye. I was excited. And soused. Be bighearted and forgiving.
4. I did not mean to kick the cab driver’s head. I swear. I am not a violent chick. I swear.
5. The nsenenes looked pretty to me. They was shimmering and looking all ethereal and delicate, which is why I slipped them into your pocket. I didn’t intend to stink up your house with nsenene corpse smell. The stench is partly your fault by the way. You should do your laundry more often. So don’t think, “Weird chick that hides nsenenes in people’s pant pockets. Think, “Pretty cat-like nymph who likes me enough to slip love offerings into my clothes”
6. Delete all the contacts from your phone. Or send all those threatening messages to your mum. But who calls their mother MarthaSweerieDarlin’ in their phone? And I am not sorry about the snooping!
7. I did not mean to eat your fridge and all its contents, but it serves you right for following Sleek’s advice in the morning. You don’t jog off and leave a hungry girl asleep in your house, unless you hate your pantry and your phone contacts.
8. What happened to my arm? Why do I have so many scratches? Did you…did you SCRATCH me? What kind of…why would you scratch me?!? You’re not allowed to act violently towards drunk and hot girls. Ask Kanye. You’re supposed to be tender, forgiving and amused. I don’t like you for scratching my arm.
9. This is what happened. Your cat has bad manners. It’s not sweet and purr-y. It’s skinny and screechy and for heaven’s sake, the thing had only one eye. Please remember that I love cats, even ugly ones, and I wouldn’t intentionally kick out their (one remaining) eyes. I was startled. My heart nearly stopped. Brightside, that frightful thing won’t be able to see what it looks like ever again. I’m sure it was having trouble walking past reflective surfaces.
10. None of this shit happened. But the boys on this site seem to believe that this is the kind of things that women all over the world do after (and during) parties. Nti we foist ourselves on men who (do us the favor of) sex(ing) us with benevolent looks on their faces and kind, generous feelings in their hearts and then we refuse to leave their houses in the morning and they have to employ tricks to kick us out. Shya. Women don’t do that. We’re awesome. We attend parties, look THEKETHEY, dance like ninjettes and then go back home with our girlfriends and sleep in their beds.