I have to tell you something. I’m sick. Of you.
Dude. When I first started stalking you I thought maybe we could have some fun times when Mr. Rizzuto went to Atlantic City. You know, you, me, a Troy DVD and an electronic device or two. All fun and games. I didn’t sign on to watch a Victoria’s Secret commercial. I sure as hell didn’t sign on to watch you follow some bimbo all over the face of the earth. It was funny at first, now it’s just annoying and tiresome. I’m out.
I’m dumping you. Not only am I dumping you, but per Joders’ suggestion I’m joining a convent. In fact, I’m starting my own order. I am now a Nodingolite nun. I’m Catholic anyway, so my mom will be pleased.
I haven’t really worked out all of the rules of our order yet. All I know is that every time I hear about you cavorting with the dingo I’m going to say 75 Our Father’s and 250 Hail Mary’s. (I’m not really that worried though because I stopped reading my Google alerts about you and I’ve sworn off the message boards). I might self-flagellate too, I haven’t really decided about that yet. Oh, and I think I’ll invent some cool alcohol like the Benedictine monks. I might as well do something while I’m doing nothing.
And I’m taking a vow of ignorance. This is crucial, pay careful attention. Every time I see a mention of you and the dingo I’m going to pretend neither of you exist. I guess that means we won’t be seeing much of each other since following your dingo around is the only job you’ve had lately. Don’t call me.
I’m just a novice right now. If I find out you’re in Australia with that hobag doing a David Jones meet and greet I’m taking my final vows and cloistering myself. I might even take it back old school and brush up on my Latin. I’ll pray for you. You’re welcome.
Sister Mary Wanda
P.S. If anyone out there is feeling sorry for Mr. Rizzuto, don’t. Right now he’s looking for a ruler for me to beat him with.
P.P.S. The Nodingolite order is open to fangirls of any persuasion. Interpol fans are welcome.