a relatively high number of shaft handing-out incidents in a very small amount of time:

1. no word from the date in regards to a second date [and yes... I FOLLOWED UP.]
2. stood up for sex. [TWICE!]
3. overdramatically ridiculed [dismembered practically] for how i speak.
4. stood up for a first date and then blamed for it. [what a DICK! TWAT, even!]
5. misinterpretted.

i suppose this is what happens when you get used to having be out and about all the time; having everyone want you... "when it rains it pours" --weather girls edition.

but i was enjoying my splashing around...
and now i'm thirsty and dry...
and the lawn could use a deluge again.

(c'est la vie.)
it'll'll [[that's "it will all"]] cycle 'round again.

until then, i guess it's just the beer, the netflix, and the salt & vinegar crisps that i shouldn't be consuming [due to infathomable potato intolerance].

but don't think i'm miserable. or even sad. or even depressed.

if anything, i'm greatly perturbed...
which will only add to my zingy feistiness [[ignore the partial redundance]] of which i'll reap the benefits at later date.

fuck 'em. [[with twang: i'm cuter. i'm smarter. i'm better than you in everyway, motherfucker.]]