the thorn.

She is like a thorn in my side. She's not just a person, she's an affliction. A puss-filled infected suture that just oozes. Dripping puss and nastiness.

When I see her, I think of blonde, herpes-infested hookers. I just wonder what the intrigue was and why he's so unwilling to relinquish that relationship.

When I see her, I puke a little bit in my mouth. Mostly because of her hairy upper lip and general bimbo-ish characteristics. But he still cherishes her like his Saturday football tickets. Something that's invaluable and inseparatable from his body.

If I had my way, she'd go back to her country or just fall off the face of the earth. She gets under my skin and makes me want to cut her out like the thorn that she is.


Apparently, this is how it's going to be. And I don't like it. I don't like it one bit.