"I FUCKING HATE YOU! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR UGLY POO FACE EVER EVER AGAIN!"
So...I'm not usually one to curse and sound like a six year old at the same time, but there is just something about being broken up with that makes one feel violently childish. Especially when you find out your newly ex-boyfriend has not only been "kind of" cheating on you, but is also "kind of" gay. Now, I have nothing against gay people, my freaking twin brother is gay; what I don't appreciate is liars. My newly ex, newly gay, boyfriend is a fucking liar, thus, I have something against him.
It was only when I actually saw my melon orange colored cell phone soaring through the air on route to my ex's retreating big head that I realized what an angry person I had become. Like, who throws things? People on live police chases throw things. I grumpily shuffled my way over to my a-little-more-bent-out-of-shape-than-twenty-seven-seconds-ago cell phone and picked it up. Trent, my gay ex, had just jumped into a taxi, so I maturely flicked it off and then dialed Kare as I walked back towards my tiny blue house. Kare is short for Karen who oddly enough isn't that caring of a person, but she tells me the truth and she's a bitch so a grade A masochist like me is very dependent on her.
"Oliiiiii, what's up bika?" I pouted my face as I sat on the steps that led up to my squeaky porch.
"Freaking Trent is a freaking a-hole, which is funny because he actually likes it up the a-hole... not that funny though."
"What? Are you drunk?" I pulled out a cigarette from the case that lived on my porch coffee table and quickly lit it; there was one new year's resolution now ruined.
"Trent is gay, he's been cheating on me and he just broke up with me." I exhaled clouds of thick smoke.
"Oh. Weird. Want to come get drunk with me and Jimmy?" Jimmy is Kare's not-so-boyfriend boyfriend; as in, they mate like rabbits but don't hold hands in public.
"No thanks, that'll be awkward. I just wanted an excuse to not go inside and burn all of Trent's things."
"I say burn them. Or actually, get them all together and we'll get drunk and burn them tomorrow. It'll be one of those afternoon things, and then your neighbors can come out and frown at us for being drunk so early during the day. Super fun yeah?" I smushed my mouth to the right and crinkled my nose at the thought of my decrepit mean neighbors.
"Yeahyeah, it's a date. Have fun with Jimmy, I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks for being so considerate and sympathetic."
"Aha. Kaywoo. Byeeee." I pushed the red end button and then dropped my phone next to me. I need to invest in a new phone....and a new life. For a twenty-two year old I'm feeling pretty old these days. I feel like those fifty plus women who never get replies for their date ads. I mean, last year I went out with, easily, twelve different boys. That is a one boy a month ratio, which borders on slutty. Or, it would border on slutty if I had even gotten passed a first date with, like, half of that percentage. Hell, maybe if I was slutty I wouldn't be so angry and tense. That opens up an entire new ballpark figure of issues though, so I'm going to call it a night before I end up crying with my bottle of vodka. Because, yes, I have a bottle of vodka that I call mine; he's seen me cry more times than my mother.
I locked my front door, five locks because I have security issues, and then turned around and almost tripped over Charlie Brown. Charlie Brown is my pig. He's small and pink and fuzzy and sweet. He knows when I'm upset. I could tell he was worried by the way he was standing infront of me looking up at my face. Almost like he needed reassurance that I knew he was there for me. He's a pig but if I were a girl pig we'd so be married by now. I need to make a list of things to never say out loud in public. The "I want to marry my pig" comment being first on that list. I named him Charlie Brown because as a weird kid I had a huge crush on the actual Charlie Brown. I say "actual" like as if he was a real person but I was a strange kid and now I'm a strange(r) "adult." I picked up Charlie Brown and together, with his face in my matted hair, we went into my bedroom. My house is small but spacious, which is an oxymoron. It's a one story house, all blue except for my faded red door and porch and window frames. On the inside there is old wood flooring and white and blue walls. There is my bedroom and bathroom, a kitchen and a small area for a breakfast table which includes a window seat. I have a very small living room where I keep my computer and sewing machine and two huge cabinets full of tailoring supplies; I don't watch television. I spend most of my time, when I'm not working, either in the living room or on my porch. Yes, I am a smoker, but I don't smoke inside my house, only on my porch, therefore my house smells like coffee and mint soap, because I have an obsession with mint soap.
Charlie Brown jumped onto our pale teal bed (it's low to the ground, especially bought for him) and snuggled into his white pillow on the right side. I changed into my gray leopard leggings and hot pink t-shirt. I threw my long tangled brown hair into a heavy bun atop my head and then slid into bed with Charlie Brown. Reaching over to turn off the lights I realized I had left my cell phone outside and I hadn't gathered Trent's things together for the drunken bonfire tomorrow. I should mention how much of a lazy sloth I am.
"Night Charlie Brown." He grunted piggishly in reply and we snuggled.