Punk Ass Pansy

WWSD? Suzie would take the flowers in and display them in her prettiest vase.

I hate cowardly men. I can't stand it when a guy likes you, but is too scared to say anything about it. He hides behind anonymous flowers and cards in an ill attempt to woo me from afar. That pisses me off to no end. Just fucking tell me you've got the hots for me. I'll probably just shoot you down, but at least we'll both know where the hell we stand.

I've received flowers three times in the past week. They were left on my doorstep with a note and everything. At first, I thought they were from Dick and was going to just toss them in the trash, but curiosity got the better of me and I read the notes.

The first note said "These are not from Dick. I hope you have a wonderful day." The second note said "I cannot stop thinking about you." And the third read "I know what you are going through, but just know that I am here."

What the fuck? Some stranger leaves me flowers to wish me a wonderful day and to let me know he's here for me? Um, I don't think so. I don't even know who the fuck it is, so how is he here for me? This has to be the most cowardly attempt to pick a chick up that I've ever seen (either that or Dick is playing more games).

I've since posted a note on my door that has already received a few chuckles from the postman and UPS delivery guy. It reads: To the sorry son of a bitch that has been cowardly leaving flowers on my doorstep without letting me know who you are, fuck off. I have no desire to meet a man with such little backbone. I have a thought, why don't you take those flowers, shove them up your ass, and come back when you've grown some balls.

I hate guessing games and yes, I'm a bitch. Have a wonderful day.

Too Little, Too Late

WWSD? Suzie would accept the apology and work past the trust issues.

I love to watch someone who knows they screwed up try to place blame on anything or anyone around them. Seeing them squirm in knee-deep denial always gives me a chuckle. Watching them stutter through endless excuses and blab on about meaningless "buts" tickles me to my core. No matter how hard they try to cover up their faults, they can never seem to hide them completely. They still shine through like booty dimples in spandex leggings.

A couple of nights ago, Dick came over to pick up some parts for his truck. While he was here, I kept to myself. Apparently, he was looking for my affection as my distance seemed to piss him off. Before he left, he mumbled a few words about having finally met someone else and that it was going good so far. I told him I was happy for him and waved him through the door.

I have been ignoring his texts since then and last night, I guess he'd had enough. He made up another excuse to come over. I let him in the house without saying a word and returned to my movie. After getting his things, he walked in the living room and asked if we could talk. I simply shrugged my shoulders. He went on to apologize and said he hadn't found someone else -- that he was just mad.

I could bite my tongue no longer and these are the words that flew out my mouth: "How in the hell are you mad? You left. You are the one playing the damn mind games. While you're out doing god knows what, the trust in this relationship has left the damn building. I will never believe a thing you say and do not want to spend the rest of my life wondering what happened while you've been gone. Too little, too late. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my movie."

He fucked up and he knows it. The sad thing is, I'm not sure this will ever work again. I cannot see myself with someone I cannot trust and at this point, I'd trust Scott Peterson before I trusted this fucker again.

Piss Me Off And You Can Call Me Bitch

WWSD? Suzie would have dismissed it as an accident and went on about her day.

We all know how much I hate grocery shopping and it's not only because of the pervy, old men. It seems as if my car is a magnet to anything that will cause dents and dings. I can't count the number of times I have come out of the store and was greeted with a note offering an apology sitting under my windshield wiper.

I went to the store this morning, grabbed my groceries as fast as possible, and headed out the door before I had another run-in with the old man. As I approached my car, I noticed something shiny. Upon closer inspection, I saw that someone had apparently opened their door into mine. I looked on the windshield for a note, but there was none. I glanced at the car next to mine and there it was -- my fucking paint on their fucking door.

I know accidents happen, but common courtesy is to leave a note saying you did so. If you aren't going to leave a note, don't keep your piece of shit parked by mine with the evidence clearly there. You are asking for a bitch slap -- which is just what I did.

I put my groceries in the trunk and then carefully maneuvered the cart to it's proper location -- all the way down the side of the offender's car and into the cart corral. I then grabbed a piece of paper from my purse and scribbled this note:

"I apologize profusely for the damage I did to your car. It seems I was so busy trying to figure out who could have opened their door into my car and not be bothered to leave a note that I hit yours with my cart, on purpose. Enjoy the rest of your day -- bitch."

I think I'm going to put an ad on craigslist for someone who would be willing to do my grocery shopping for me before I end up in jail or shot.