Do you see this beautiful thing I’ve posted here? It’s Ben Barnes! He knows better than to sass me by shagging cabbage patch kids! And he’s probably going to replace your arse as the supreme oui oui on this blog should you continue to fauxmance the dingo! Seriously I have neither the time nor inclination to keep waving the red flags against the enormities of your fake girlfriend. At a certain point you have to be willing to help yourself, dude.
You’re being USED. There, I said it! I know it’s irrational and immature, but I seriously hate that vapid bytch-face! The dingo has no redeeming qualities. She’s an ace slutcracker, okay?
Should pap shots of you and the dingo crop up in Paris (like her retarded mommy alluded to) or God forbid, Oz (where you will be trussed up like a turkey on Thanksgiving day at hobag’s fashion show), you best understand that I won’t be tolerating this mess any longer.
It’s so sad, really. I’m worried about you, Orly! You’ve lost your mojo and your soul! Take a year off, take a course in English Lit or just mingle with people who don’t take their clothes off for a living.
BTW, it’s really hard breaking up with a dude you’ve never even met.
Okay, that’s all from me.
*cough*Ben Barnes is Hot*cough*
Remember this phace, Mr. Bloom!