Thursday, June 4, 2009

A bit of spiteful writing

And it has nothing to do with The Project, even.

The girl gorges on men. She's like a dick machine, can't get enough. She runs our book group like a Nazi convention, ostensibly social, but really a tribute to Heil Hitler. I pick the books, she says. It's my group and I pick them.

When I tell my husband he laughs. When she dates someone, he says, does she get to pick the sex positions for the first six months?

But her relationships never make it up to that half-year marker. The last one she inadvertently found out was married. Or so she says. You ask me? Inadvertent, my ass. Available, unavailable, she doesn't give a shit, but it's a bonus if she's dipping into someone else's candy jar.

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