Dear Visitor from last night,
When you come to my house.
Don’t complain that you don’t like the temperature. If my fan is turned on and facing me, it’s highly likely I wanted it there.
Don’t expect to take my remote over.
Don’t tell my dog what to do. (This is his fucking house)
When I’m comfortable sitting somewhere, don’t move my body out of place.(Which, that’s weird by the way) Never had a problem with this before. Oh, I guess you ASSUMED we were gonna be touchy feely.
Don’t ever think it’s ok to tell me to stop smoking weed. (I’ll admit that I’ve quit for someone before and they obviously aren’t around anymore. I turned my back on Mary Jane once and I’ll never do it again.) I remember telling you this from the get anyway.
Get brave at someone else’s house when you bitch about drug items being out and about. How do you even have the nerve. Furthermore, who are you to say what I’m doing is wrong.
Discreet?? I don’t really see why that word has to exist in my house.
It’s one of those simple things. If you don’t like it. Get the fuck out.
Fresh tattoo? Yeah. It hurts. You “smacking” it and picking away at it. A week is not long enough for it to fully heal.
Needless to say, I highly doubt you’ll be invited back.
I don’t know. Just really needed a rant.