No One Asked Me But...

Road Rage Against the Machine

Hi. My name is Jennifer. And I have road rage.

But not the road rage that everyone else is experiencing. Mine is more simple. You see...I drive by the rules. Call me a goody two shoes, but I do. And NOTHING annoys me more than people who think they know how to drive better than everyone else and do whatever the hell they want on the road. Excuse me, who died and made you King of the Road?  No one. So get in line asshole.

Apparently the state of Massachusetts like to put up signs that say "Right Lane is for Right Turn Only" for fun. Because no one pays attention to it. They even went out of their way to paint those big arrows going right, and the big huge word ONLY painted there too. But no, King of the Road doesn't need to follow that rule. So then while I'm driving along, planning on taking a right...he's there waiting at the light to go straight. And you are NOT supposed to be in this lane if you are going to go straight. Mother Fucker!! There goes my road rage acting up again. I wonder if they have a salve for that...

Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that once people get their license and then get away with a few infractions they just continue driving like a jackass. They speed, change lanes without signaling, cut you off, speed more, run red lights, drink and drive, drive and text...etc. What good is that? We have rules for a reason. To keep us all safe. Apparently a lot of folks out there don't care about safety. So hey, when I see a horrible accident on the road or on the news I KNOW that one of those folks thought they were the King of the Road and did something illegal. And someone usually ends up dying because of it.

You know, I keep a good distance between my car and the car in front of me. Just in case he slams on his breaks to let a deer cross the road, I won't slam into him since I'm a ways back. King of the Road sees the space and thinks "oh that's for me" and squeezes his ass in there (most likely without signaling). Hi. Let me explain something to you....that space is NOT for you.

I was behind a car that was going 23 miles per hour. My foot was off the gas pedal for most of that trip. I wanted to cry. How annoying. At least go the speed limit.

I could go on and on...but seriously, the next time you want to do something boneheadish on the road, just think about what an asshole everyone is going to think you are. And if you don't care about that, at least try to abide by the rules. They are there for a reason!! Believe it or not.

Britney Spears Said It Best...

"You drive me crazy." And she should know. Between Justin and K-Fed...that bitch is nuts.

Ah. Love. Love drives us all crazy. I'm convinced that half of the murders in America are crimes of passion. I don't have any hard proof of this, but I intend on looking more into it. Seriously, every day almost you hear something about someone getting stabbed or shot by an ex boyfriend or girlfriend. Love makes us mental. It's official.

But that's not why I'm writing this post right now. Here's my thought: Men pretend they don't like crazy broads. But I think deep down inside they really do. I think that crazy bitches keep things interesting. But men act like they don't like that, and then go and marry a "normal" girl. But normal girls are boring. They get "headaches" and "bear children." And then men are stuck being bored in their marriage, and start looking outside their marriage for a chick crazy enough to fuck a married guy. Vicious circle.

So here's my idea: Men - stop pretending that you don't like the crazy, freaky chicks, and just accept it. You like when we get jealous (oh did I just admit to being one of those crazy broads?), you secretly like that we don't trust you and go through your text messages, and overall you think we're fun. And we are! So get over yourselves and embrace your inner crazy chick lover! (By the way, I HATE the word 'lover.')

Fake It 'til You Make It

When someone denies something nowadays, do you even blink an eye?  I saw this headline on FoxNews and I didn't even care: White House Denies It Was Source Of Bin Laden Video Leak. You know why I didn't care? Because they probably did leak it. Wouldn't really surprise me at this point. Let me explain.

I was 16 when I first saw Bill Clinton speak in person. It was at Fanieul Hall in Boston and he was running for President of the United States. He was charismatic and handsome. I bought my Clinton for President button, proudly displayed it on my bookbag and was on my way. I couldn't even vote but Bill was the man for me. And when he told me that he had nothing to do with Gennifer Flowers I believed him. That hussy!

Let's fast forward to: "I did not have sexual relations with that woman - Ms. Lewinsky." That's a quote. I remember his saying that. And again, I believed him. And then slowly but surely, I heard all the sordid details what with the blue Gap dress (with stains) and the cigars and of course, the fellatio. Oh God. He lied. He's been lying. And only when he got caught did he finally kinda sorta tell the truth. (It depends what your definition of "is" is, or something ridiculous like that.) And then the truth about Gennifer Flowers. It was true. All this time. And I didn't believe her. I trusted him. And guess what? MY BAD!

And now present day. We have some great examples of, "No I didn't do that. Oh you have proof? Ok I did. I'm so sorry."  Michael Vick. Marion Jones. And my personal favorite - Senator Larry Craig. Michael Vick actually denied vehemently (as did Jones, but I'll get to her in a minute) that he had anything to do with that dog fighting ring that was going on on his property. He said he was going to clear his good name.  He even performed (LIED) this "I'm innocent" song and dance in front of the NFL Commissioner. And then once all his friends sold him down the river, and the government laid out their evidence, he had no other choice but to cop a plea deal. And then cry and say he found Jesus and take a class with PETA and now say that he was wrong and that dog fighting is wrong. Oh really? Bullshit. You got caught. Be a man and say "Oh well. I got caught."

Marion Jones. An amazing female athlete that (I guess) girls looked up to and trusted. She won three gold and two bronze medals in the 2000 Summer Olympics in Sydney. Has denied taking steroids for almost 7 years now. I've watched countless interview snippets over the past week or so...all of which include her vehemently denying using performance enhancing drugs. And then the last snippet...her crying her eyes out and her mother pats her back while admitting to using the drugs she denied using in the past. I wonder, what made her decide to tell the truth now? Did someone somewhere have the evidence that would finally bust her in that lie? Probably. Why else would she come out asking for forgiveness? She hasn't in the past 7 years, so why now? Because she got caught.

It's so sad to say that my first gut instinct is to not trust anyone. The one person you can truly trust is yourself. Otherwise, just assume what everyone else is saying is a bunch of bullshit. Because it usually is.

Jesus was missing? Good thing Michael Vick found him!

I'm quite confused by all the Vick supporters saying, "What's the difference between what he's done and people who hunt?" Uh....

Huh? It sort of scares me that there are people out there that not only support Michael Vick, but also don't find anything wrong with what he did. While I do not condone hunting at all, I've actually talked to hunters that I've worked with, intelligent conversations, and while they didn't turn me over to the Dark Side, they at least EDUCATED me enough where I can live with hunting on this earth. EDUCATED is a key word here. I'm guessing a lot of folk aren't educated out there. Because first and foremost Michael Vick broke the law. He is a criminal. Dogfighting is ILLEGAL in this country. A Federal offense. Whether or not you are an "animal lover"...doesn't matter. He's a punk who got caught.

Now, Vick said he made a mistake. Ok. I make mistakes. Like dating the wrong guy or wearing white after Labor Day. The Falcons hand him millions of dollars hand over fist...and dogfighting seemed like a good thing to invest his money in? Really? If I have to hear one more time how Vick came from the poor, mean streets of Newport News (The catalog looks nice!) and beat the odds and grew up to be a successful football player I'm going to throw up. So, Mr. Vick, instead of taking your money and building a Boys and Girls Club or an Afterschool Recreation Facility for kids....You funded and ran illegal dogfights? Oh ok. Way to go! Looks like someone doesn't remember the other poor people from his home town.

So now on to the part that confuses me the most. ANYONE who can take part in and watch dogfighting has no soul and is evil. I'm sorry, but I'll stick by that statement until I die. Dogs and cats have been domesticated for hundreds if not thousands of years. The same cannot be said for deer and other animals that are hunted. So Fluffy and Spot have been man's friend for eons...yet there are cruel assholes out there that like to starve Spot and make him fight other dogs to the death. But its not like a TKO from Mike Tyson. One clean punch and it's over. (Not to mention the opponent gets up and walks away) Oh no. Two dogs...fighting viciously...biting....screeching...barking. Bleeding. Hurt. For what? Seriously, for what? Dogs have feelings you know. And I'm not talking about Happiness and Sadness. I'm talking about if their bones break, it hurts. If they get bit, it hurts. They feel pain. Why would you want to cause an animal pain? I just don't get it. And it's horrible. If you have never seen a dogfight, I'm sure you could Google it, or YouTube it, or just visit the Humane Society's website. Get educated (that's aimed at you Mr. Jamie Foxx)

This isn't about a black man not getting a fair shake from the white man. This is about a man, who became a millionaire and decided that he got off on fighting dogs and killing them. For fun. Oh and for money. Money? You need more money Michael Vick? I'm sure that's news to the Falcons owner. But if you want to make it about race go ahead...If I were black I would be insulted to know that "my brother" used his money to fund shit like that. Even if I hated dogs...what the fuck bro? Throw your sister some Benjamins to help feed her kids or get them some shoes for school. Jesus Christ! (Wait, was he missing? Good thing Vick found him.) Which brings me to....

He's sorry? After six years, he's sorry? Really? Again, convenient timing no? I remember when this story first broke he said he was going to clear his good name. And told us all not to rush to judgment. Um...the minute his friends threw him under the bus, he had to admit to what he did. Meanwhile he had already lied to us, the public (whether it be fans or not) and more importantly the prosecutors (again, federal crime!! hello!) and his coach, the owner and the Commissioner of the National Football League. I cannot help to think of my five year old niece, who will lie lie lie and say she hasn't done something wrong...but then once she's cornered...she's forced to say sorry. And she'll do it while rolling her little eyes. I picture Vick with his eyes rolling all up in his head while saying sorry. Sorry for what? Electrocuting dogs to kill them for six years? Shooting dogs to kill them for six years? Body slamming them to the ground to kill them for six years? Gambling illegally? What exactly are you sorry for? Or are you just sorry you got caught? Because that's what I think.

For the record, I'm a cat person. You know, "are you a cat person or a dog person?" I'm a cat person. I think dogs smell and lick their privates and hump your leg. BUT that doesn't mean that I don't care if dogs get tortured and killed. I don't even care if he did it for free.... it's disgusting. If I were the commissioner I wouldn't want anyone playing in my league that did stuff like that. And I certainly wouldn't want to know that's what he was doing with his paycheck. Ack!! Evil. Sick. Twisted. Mentally deranged. They say that serial killers start out when they are young by torturing and killing animals. Now tell me...how is that any different than what Vick is doing now? For his own sick pleasure. Dogs are not hunted. They are domesticated and are not bred for a sick man's enjoyment. Sorry. You don't like dogs, like me, don't own one. Don't fight one. Leave them to the people who actually like to take care of them. And give them a good life. Not a fucked up scary one with rape stands (which offends me as a woman and I'm not really sure why but I'm sure those sick fucks made jokes about tying their bitches up to it) and dog fights. Everyone: Grow up. Get educated. Have FEELINGS! The world doesn't revolve around you.

Good luck in jail Michael Vick. You can think about how you threw away the best fucking life a dirtbag like you was ever going to get.

The Leper in the Supermarket

The other day I went food shopping.  I really like food shopping, except for the fact that I feel like people are secretly judging the contents of my carriage.  Let's take me in the bread aisle for example:  I'm not a huge fan of wheat bread *GASP*. I know I know. Sorry for living.  I like white bread.  And I cannot even come up with a good reason why, except I just do. Most of the time I buy the Wonder Bread that's called "the white bread lovers wheat bread" or something like that. It has that fluffy white bread texture, but it's brown and, I guess, really wheat, not white. But the last time I went shopping thy didn't have any. And while there were plenty of wheat breads to choose from, for some strange reason the good old regular Wonder white bread was calling my name. And I succumbed to it. I'll admit. But as I put it in my carriage I could feel the judging eyes of everyone around me. "No wonder why she's overweight, she eats white bread!! She probably like whole milk too!"

Well for the record I do like whole milk. But I refuse to buy it because my fellow shoppers might actually have strokes if they had to watch that. So I'll buy 2%. But I do desire whole milk.  Look, I don't like yogurt. I don't like skim milk. Sue me!! I'm a grown adult. I should be able to buy whatever I want, when I want and not worry about what other people think of me. But I do worry about it. Isn't that so lame? Eh, fuck it. Next time I'm buying whole milk in the light block bottle. And throw in some double stuft Oreos while I'm at it. Word!

Anyone Know Where Barnes and Noble Could Find a Dictionary?

So that they can look up what "Reserve" means.

About 542 months ago (give or take a couple of months there) I "reserved" two copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Don't worry your little heads: I'm not going to spoil the ending. I've had the book now for over 24 hours and I'm only on page 108. Might be a while before I get into spoilage territory. Although there was already this hot make out scene between Harry and Ginny...but nevermind.

Instead of ordering my books online and pine listlessly for the delivery person to show up at my house yesterday, I decided I would reserve two copies (one regular for my sister, and one special edition for myself) at the local B&N and then pick them up on Saturday, July 21st - the day all Potter fans have waited for and secretly dreaded for a very long time. You see, this is the last book. JK Rowling is too busy now sorting out her billion dollars to write any more books for the masses. So she claims this is the last one. And we all have to go into therapy now. Thanks JK!

I skipped the midnight parties, not because I'm too cool, but because I had no one to go with. And I didn't want to look like I was auditioning for a part on Dateline's To Catch a Predator, so I stayed away from all the kiddies in their Potter themed costumes (and the adults as well) and tossed and turned in my bed all night until daylight broke. The bookstore opened at 9am, and I would be there with my Membership card and money in hand.

I was not the only person there. There were many of us. Mostly adults waiting for the store to open. But I felt ok with the crowd whether I was third in line (which I was) or 53rd in line (suckas!) because my books were RESERVED. Meaning they should be bound together by a elastic band with my name blazoned on a sheet of paper...just waiting for me!!

I get up to the counter and I declare my name and asking for me RESERVED copies. The woman heads for the stack of strewn about Potter books behind the counter and I exclaim..."But I have one special edition and one regular edition." She hesitates and yells to the man down the end, "Do we have anymore Special Editions?" My eyes almost bugged out of my head. It's not my problem whether they have anymore or not. It's there's. I RESERVED my copy already. It's supposed to be there. "Luckily" for me there was one special copy left. That's what they said, "You're lucky. We have one left." What the fuck?? Wow, I'm so lucky. Good thing I didn't stroll in at 6 that evening. Someone may have bought the lucky last copy that technically should've already been mine. The book is not cheap: The sticker price is $65, but for us members it's only $40. Still a lot. But what little brats were buying up all the special editions the night before??

So long story short (too late), I got the book I wanted but barely. I'm really disappointed in how B&N handled the whole Harry Potter thing. They should not let people reserve books. Simple as that.

Oh and to make matters even worse, I turned to the back of the book where the special illustrations were (what I paid all that extra moola for) and the page I open up to is one of Hagrid carrying a limp Harry saying "Oh Harry. Oh Harry." Great. So did I just see the ending? IS Harry Potter going to die? God damn special edition book. Blah.

Why I Love Rugby Players: Reason #27

The Associated Press reported today that an Australian gentleman by the name of Ben Czislowski had been suffering from severe headaches, a nasty eye infection and bouts of lethargy for about three months. He started experiencing these symptoms after a rugby match with the Tweed Heads on April 1st, 2007. Apparently he suffered a head wound after an "incident" with opponent Matt Austin, which left Austin with a broken jaw and several missing teeth. But afterward Ben got his head stitched up and was told he was good to go.

Ben then kept playing rugby. For three months. Even with those horrible headaches and yucky eye infection. Now that rugger is a MAN!!

Anyway, last week a doctor found Matt Austin's tooth embedded in his forehead just above his left eye. When Ben got his head stitched up originally, did that doctor (I'm assuming a doctor. Is that silly of me?) didn't notice a tooth staring up at him? Just stitched right over it? Nice. How about Ben? He didn't feel around up there and feel a tooth shaped bump up there or something?

Ben's quote: "I've got the tooth at home, sitting on the bedside table. If he (Austin) wants it back he can have it. I'm keeping it at the moment as proof that it actually happened." 

Is that really proof Ben? Hey, I never said Rugby players were the smartest guys... Anyway, would Austin really want back his tooth??

Why Don't You Listen Next Time, Bitches!

I completely understand that I live in an age where girls are watching their figure more than ever. But believe it or not, there are some of us who aren't. That shouldn't be too shocking because there are plenty of pleasantly plump people walking around. And honestly, I do not pretend to be one of those "healthy" girls. I just sort of live my life the way I want, and order whatever I want.

I have plenty of pet peeves, and I just recently I added a new one to the ever growing list: The help who don't listen. Look, your job isn't that hard. You listen to what I want to order, and then you bring it to me, and then I pay my bill, AND THEN I TIP YOU. (In some cases that is). I hate Diet Coke and I refuse to drink it. However, I LOVE regular fountain coke and I love to order it when I'm in a restaurant. "I'll have a Coke please." 9 out of 10 times they bring me a Diet Coke. Did I mention I HATE Diet Coke? The taste skeevees me out so bad. So then I have to wait for them to come back and be like "Oh hey, I know that every girl is ordering Diet Coke nowadays, but I didn't. So can you bring me the fucking regular Coke I asked for. Write it down if you think you cannot remember. Thanks." Ok, maybe I don't say that. I'm not THAT bitchy. But I want to say that. Instead I have to embarrassingly ask for a regular Coke and feel like a fatty the rest of time I sit at that table. I feel like they are even talking about me at the bar: "See that girl over there? She ordered a regular Coke!" *audible gasps*

And while we're talking about restaurants...here's another thing that annoys me. If I order a water, please don't assume I wanted a lemon in it. Again, with the healthy girls who want a lemon in their water. I don't. I actually like the taste of water. If I wanted lemon water I'd have asked for it. OR I'd order a lemonade. Thanks. At some point in time it became the norm when you ordered a water that meant you wanted lemon with hit. I obviously missed the memo. I think the norm is, if you order a drink, they give you a straw. And that's it. When my water comes with a wedge of lemon, I sigh and then take it out and lay it on the table. Not even on a napkin. I didn't ask for this. Thanks though. I'm not a big fan of tart pulp floating in my water.

And now to a new phenomenon: Dunkin Donuts. I never ever had a problem with my coffee order. Light with sugar. But now all the healthy girls are drinking their coffee with skim milk and Splenda. Good for them. I don't drink coffee that often, but when I do, I want it to NOT taste like coffee. Skim milk? Seriously? It barely lightens the coffee. That's gross.

Just yesterday I went in and ordered this: Medium Iced Hazelnut, Light, Two sugars. Yeah Yeah. Wicked unhealthy. I get it. But I cannot be the only person walking into a Dunkies and ordering coffee that way. The chick behind the counter makes my coffee and puts in on the counter. It's not light at all. I said "That's not light enough. Is that cream??" She's like "No, it's milk."  And I lost it. I said, "I didn't ask for milk" and then proceeded to order my coffee all over again, very loudly.

I'm really happy for all the Diet Coke drinkers and their Skim Milk in coffee counterparts. But I'm just not one of them. If no one drank regular Coke anymore, then I'm sure Coca-Cola would just stop making the product and selling it to establishments. But guess what, I still fucking drink it and I like it. So open up your ears, waitstaff, and bring me what I order, or you will certainly not get a 20% tip from me. 

Let's All Go to the Movies

I went to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix last night. But this post isn’t really about the movie. But rather the people in the actual movie theater. Did some of these people just wake up from a coma? Just get to America? Let me explain.

Yesterday was the opening day of this movie. Whether it’s opening day or opening weekend it’s a good idea to plan accordingly. Especially if you know the movie is going to be drawing large crowds. I purchased my tickets days in advance for the 7pm showing of Phoenix. We arrived at the theater at 6:10pm. I made the decision that we should find seats and then separately go out to buy snacks or empty out the bladder one last time. We took our seats on the end of the row. That’s the beauty of showing up early, you can sit wherever you want!! But I’ll have you know, even at 6:10pm, 50 minutes before the start, the theater was fairly crowded.

So the time passes slowly. Everyone filing in, anxious to see the next installment of our favorite boy wizard.  Mostly all of the seats are taken by 6:40. By 6:45 I heard people walking up to an usher saying “We need 6 seats together.” Not once or twice. But a few times. Or “We need 4 seats together.” I felt like saying “yeah I see six seats together….IN THE FRONT ROW.” So then this poor usher has to shuffle around asking everyone “are those seats taken?” And the answer is always yes, because someone is out getting popcorn or using the bathroom or something. And I’m thinking DID you just wake up from a coma? Where did these people come from? Did they seriously expect to waltz in a mere 10 minutes before the start time and get desirable seats…. All together?? They have to be kidding right? But they all seem incredulous to the fact that they cannot get seats. Even complaining about the front row. Then don’t go to this showing. Wait until the next one. I don’t know what to tell you. But for the people who show up early, the last thing I want to be asked is “is this seat taken” or “can you move down”.

No I won’t fucking move down. Do you know how fucking long I’ve been here. While you were at home on your fucking lazy-boy recliner thinking “hey who wants to go see that Harry Potter movie? I think it’s out now” I was fucking getting my ass here EARLY. You have no right to fucking complain about where your seats are when you stroll in at 6:55 for a 7pm movie ON OPENING DAY. Fuck off. Seriously. Fuck off. You know who you are.

"When There Is Nothing Left To Burn...

You have to set yourself on fire." - from Your Ex-Lover is Dead

"When one burns one's bridges, what a very nice fire it makes." - Dylan Thomas

Roughly seven years ago I fell in love. I didn't know it at the time. And even now...I'm not sure if I can call it that. But something happened. And I've been in love with this man for a very long time now. Even though I was with my ex-husband for a few years there. Didn't matter. There was always something about this guy. Like, if my grandchildren ever came to me and said, "Grandma, tell us about your greatest love affair" it would definitely be about this guy. Just the mere sight of him takes my breath away. Being close to him - I shake. I mumble incoherently. I literally lose myself willingly in those deep dark brown eyes. When he hugged me...forget it. To be in his arms - that has to be the definition of ecstasy. He's so handsome and so strong. I held on to him tight. As tight as possible. Until he had to leave. To go home to his girlfriend and cat.

Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Yeah, the girlfriend. I cannot get mad. While I ran off and got married to the man I thought was Mr. Right, he went on living his life. And met someone. And then I got divorced and we sort of crossed paths again. Very adulterated paths, but still paths nonetheless. And I thought I didn't care about this gf. Well until they moved in together. Look, I don't condone cheating, but let's face it. He was the one with a S.O. not me. I could do whatever I wanted. If he wanted to be unfaithful, then so be it. Secretly I wanted him to leave her. But I didn't say anything for a while. Until one day I just laid it all out there. And he didn't say anything. He sat at the edge of the bed and said nothing.

I sort of have something to say to his girlfriend. I don't know her name so I cannot address her directly. But hey you....don't be mad at him. So he slept with me. So I love him. He doesn't love me. He loves you. I know it's hard to understand. Why would he cheat, you ask, if he loved you? Well first of all, did you not notice your boyfriend is a semi sex addict? Hello. You don't have to know him seven years to figure that out. And pssst....I'm not the only one. Anyway, the reason why I say don't be mad at him is because he never loved me. He never fell into my arms and asked me how my day was. He never came over and cooked me dinner. He never came to me with the problems he couldn't talk about with you. All the things we girls want from a man...he gave me none of it. He gave me sex. Big deal. OK, it's the greatest sex I've ever had in my whole life. I just adore his body. It's so strong in some place and so soft in others. Our bodies fit together. But again, so what? He leaves me to see you and that cat. That friggin' cat. I'm jealous of you. You get to have him. Have a relationship with him (albeit maybe not a fully honest one). Share a bed with him. And probably marry him and have little cute babies with thick brown hair and wonderful full lips like his daddy.

So where was I? Oh yeah, that was all in the past. Like I said I opened my big fat mouth and told him how I felt and he barely said anything. He did make it clear it was only sex. Wow. Imagine having unrequited love, and then actually proclaiming it and then actually living the rejection; not just reading about it. I don't know. What a horrible existence. Weeks later he told me that it's over between us (via Instant Message). I guess he had some sort of revelation (engaged?) and ended it. There is a part of me that thinks (KNOWS) that he'll be back, because while he doesn't admit to loving me, I know he's having that same great sex that I'm having. And how can you stay away? Over those seven years...we still found a way back to one another. And even though I will be settling, I don't care. Just being with him is so intoxicating I'll do anything.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not proud of being the other woman. I'm not happy that I let him get away with cheating. But I loved him, you know? People in love do the craziest things. I even thought about dedicating my book to him. I don't know if I'll ever finish it though. The book, not the dedication. Maybe it would go something like this:

To SJ-

You have inspired me in so many ways. You have lit my soul on fire. And while it hurts immensely to not have you in my life, I must thank you for the times you were there. You awakened my senses. I cannot put into words how I feel about you. I don't envy the brave poets who would even dare try. No words will do it justice. I hope that when we were together my body, my eyes, my touch explained it all.  I miss you terribly and while this book is fiction the way the main character feels about him, is exactly how I feel for you. Obsessed a little? Maybe. Lusted after? Definitely. Hate? Sometimes. Love? Always. No matter what happens I will always be there for you. We both know that. I will not wait. But I will always hope.  I remember looking into your eyes that first time and smiling. I had no idea what I was getting myself into that blustery day on Boylston Street. And even though I've shed a million tears since then, I wouldn't change one single thing about that day and meeting you. I only wish that you would come home to me and our cat.

JM

"Live through this and you won't look back."