What The Future Holds

Yesterday would have been my eight year anniversary to my husband (had the punk ass not left). I figured there was no sense in letting the occasion go by uncelebrated so I took some of the money I had made selling Dick's shit and purchased a nice dress, I dolled myself up, and took myself out.

I ended up at my favorite steakhouse where I enjoyed steak and coconut shrimp, had one too many pina coladas, flirted tirelessly with the waiter, met a man named Philipe, plotted out my husband's death, paid Philipe his deposit for carrying out my death request, enjoyed a Mississippi mud pie, gave the waiter my number, and called a cab to take me back home.

Okay, so I was kidding about the whole Dick death plot (or was I)?

I spent the rest of the night thinking of the eight years I wasted on Dick's ass -- the things I could have done, should have done, and could have done without. Trying to find a silver lining in all that bullshit began to give me a headache (although it could have come from the pina coladas). I decided it was time to start fresh.

I will be enrolling myself into E.C.P.I. (evil & corrupt people institute) to sharpen my skills. Once I've completed the necessary courses, I shall have the proper ability to make Dick's life a living hell after which, the kids and I will be relocating to an undisclosed location.

Oh, the future looks so bright.