I really like how yo b*tch *ss tried to make a damn fool of me last Friday, you hairy munchkin wrestler. I like even more how my bf thinks I behaved "childish", even though I didn't do anything at the dinner to seem childish. I just literally SAT there and got ignored. I mean, childish would have been slamming your stupid face into the steak that you didn't know how to cut (like, how old are you, you retard muffin? you suck), or calling you a whore bag child of a crackhead and running out of the restaurant laughing hysterically, or taking all of the condiments and leftover beverages on the table and making a gigantic mushpot drink in a cocktail glass. Oh wait! That last one was you, you flat-chested **********.
All in all tho, I'm glad you didn't succeed in trying to make me stoop down to your low-*ss level. Even with my bf pretending to have the most rousing conversation of his life with you, it still doesn't bother me for the following reasons:
a) He hardly ever sees your conceited *ss
b) The birthday girl had a great time hanging out with all of you that it was totally worth it to have your stank *ss there with your crispy looking fiancé
c) Because you know I'm better than you'll ever be. Always have been (remember who was always on Honor Roll and who WASN'T? Hint, dumb*ss: you were NEVER on Honor Roll) and I always will be.
...And last, but not least
d) I'm for certain...without any doubt in my mind...put that on everything I love...that my bf has a waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay bigger peen than your fiancé does. Have fun with that!
So I'm gonna be the bigger woman and call a truce. Because as I looked across the table at you telling that same story about how you accidentally sprayed yourself in the face with mace (for the 9th time), I just felt sorry for you...and also glad that they have programs where they hire autistic people into real jobs.
Still praying that you're sterile tho,