What a crappy week this has been.
First, my boyfriend cheats on me with a Victoria’s Secret model. It’s so wrong for so many reasons. I mean, come on, a model? Does he have to be such a cliche? I’m thinking about sending him a copy of this book, except that he has yet to acknowledge my ass shirt that I sent him for his birthday. Make that an ungrateful cheating flat-leaver. It’s not like I asked him for much, just approximately 36 minutes (not 3-6 minutes like Anners says). And I’m just waiting for someone to say that she’s a “curvy model”. Be prepared for a rant if that comes up.
The worst part of it is that she appears to live right here in NYC. He couldn’t even break the news to me in person. I had to read about it over and over again in my Google alerts. (Yes, I get news alerts about Orlando. A girl never knows when she’s going to need blog material). On the bright side, I don’t care enough to figure out where those pictures were taken and camp out in front of the building. I’m always relieved to find that I have a one or two marbles left.
To add insult to injury, it turns out he got a job. In England. All this time he’s been sitting on his pretty ass doing nothing when he could have been calling me, and now he gets a job. It starts in March.
You know what this means, don’t you? It means I only have a few more weeks to find him. Until he comes back, which will probably be soon now that he has a girlfriend here, but that’s beside the point. You’ve all been slacking off, so why don’t you do me a solid? Go post a note to Orlando on your blog or something. Tell him to call me. Link a sister up.
In the meantime I’ll just have to spend my 36 minutes on Mr. Rizzuto. I think I’ll get him to kick Orlando’s ass.
Author’s note: Mr. Rizzuto, not being from the ghetto, says he never heard the term “flat-leaver.” It means he left my ass.