I Don't Friend Crazy

Hey you. Yeah, you with the Facebook addiction. Can I ask you something? Why the hell have you friended me 20 fucking times?! I denied all 20. No I didn't accidentally hit the ignore button and no, there wasn't a slight possibility your requests didn't come through. They came through...all fucking 20 of them.

I don't friend crazy. Bitch, you're crazy!!!! You know who you are. I dated you 2 years ago and after you chased my ass through town with a broken beer bottle and machete, you have the balls to fucking friend me on Facebook? Who the fuck are you? I guess the better question is, why did I ever "date" you? Crazy bitch.

I loved when we smashed everyday when we started hooking up. You were cool. But deep down inside, I knew you were a slut. What chick fucks a dude that wears a Star Wars t-shirt to a bar? Drunk sluts, that's who. Hooking up with you was amazing, until you started showing up everywhere. I don't even do that bullshit "check-in" on Facebook but it didn't matter. Anywhere I went, you were there. Pasta Pomodoro, you were there. Tequila Willy's, you were there. Church, you were fucking there. And I don't even go to church but wanted to see how crazy you actually were. What did I do to you other than play with your little pearl in ways you always imagined and dreamed of?

I should have stopped fucking you after the second week. The signs were all there that you wanted to become "official". You left a set of clothes over my house along with a toothbrush. By week three, my roommate found a stash of damn tampons under the sink. Thanks for the heads up. WTF?! I thought we were just fucking? Fuck buddies? Once-in-a-whilers? Rebounds? Obviously not. You went from straight slut to crazy. I only say crazy because who makes a deal with a dude that "we are just boning" and gets all emotional? You do, crazy bitch. But then you took crazy to the extreme.

Remember that night at my buddy Tony's house? You probably don't because crazy bitches never do. We were drunk. We went to the bathroom and I bent you over the sink, remember? It was beautiful. Anyway, a drink later, you saw me talking to my buddies girlfriend and the Hulk came out of you. Who in their right mind smashes a beer bottle over a car, grabs a machete from a strangers garage and starts chasing a dude around town? That's right...you, fucking crazy cunt. I don't think I've ever sobered up so fast in my goddamn life. Never seen a drunk woman run so fast to try to cut a mother fucker either. It was like you were in the 100-yard dash of the Crazy Bitch Olympics. First one to stab a dude wins.

And what was up with the shit you were shouting? "But I love you honey. I want to be with you. Come here and stop running away!!!! I will fucking kill you! I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Come back here. Sweeeeety..." Who says that while holding a broken ass bottle and a machete? Bi-polar ass bitch.

I had to move because I was afraid I would wake up with a dead horse head like in that movie, "The Godfather". That's how fucking crazy you are. You scared the shit out of me. A guy who is afraid of practically nothing. You, bitch...scared the shit out of me. Still do too.

Fast forward to 2 years later...I get a friend request on Facebook. Not once. Not twice. But 20 fucking times!!!!!! 20!!!!! Bitch, you realize something is wrong with you, right? You almost pulled a "Friday the 13th" on me and you want to be my friend?! Why? Do you want to rekindle old times? Talk about how you loved it when you watched me sleep all night? How you threatened all my female friends who you apparently called "whores, who want your man"? Fuck that...you're crazy. Bitch.

I don't friend crazy. I don't care how good your pussy is. Trust me, your pussy was elite. I just hope you don't find out I fucked your sister. Did I just say that?