news. flash.

fuck. me.

I think I owe the tiniest of apologies to the Male Lady.

fuck. me.

I mean, she still shouldn't be calling me at 2:31 am to leave messages for The Boy, or driving by my place twice a day to see if his Jeep's outside, but there is an itty, bitty reason that I can kinda understand why she's hanging around.

See, I have been operating under the notion (because it's what The Boy told me and I more or less trusted the info) that The Boy has made it perfectly clear to her he wants nothing to do with her, that he's told her to fuck off, that he doesn't understand why she won't go away.

Turns out he's sleeping with her.

fuck. me.

So I went home with Sex Toy Friday night for a little hot comfort and my world is turning just fine.

Still... fuck. me.

Kelly's Wild Ride and maybe even some knitting coming up.

[SUMMARY: fuck. me.]

**FOOTNOTE (unasterisked): fuck. me. And I didn't even wear my new fuck me pumps for the occasion. Is that irony, Alanis?