Belle Blog

pissappointment.

I’m going to make myself famous singing Fugees songs on top of a Garth Brooks beat. and you are going to buy that album bitch.
Last night, in my bed, the map of London was ripped aside and conquered by a non-state. a prominent one.
Mind the gap.

So, the Yankee can’t understand why I wouldn’t ever want him to touch me again. or talk to me, really. He attributes this baffling turn of events to directly correlating alcohol contents. And numbingly trying to make sense of my lack of affection through his 7&7 goggles, deducing ever so bluntly that I must be pregnant.

of course. pregnant. me. Belle. anybody else having Rosemary’s Baby flashes? I think it is actually impossible for me to get pregnant. I have been on birth control for so fucking long that there’s a good chance I have NEVER dropped an egg. Some people are born knowing they want to live a sex filled, repercussion free life and spend the first 12 years of it trying to squeeze a prescription out of every gyno they meet. ortho-heroin.
So, no, i’m not pregnant.
I hate babies.
hence the reason for breaking up with him. if only he could put those two things together.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 7th, 2006 at 1:14 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.