This one is so boring, I am writing my own as a subsitute.
Dear Noisy Muffler Import Car Driver Guy,
When you idle by my house, with your super loud muffler, I know you'll be gone in 60 seconds, but you still annoy the fuck out of me and everyone else on the street. I know my street is a good one to get all fast and furious on, but why the hell do you need that noisy ass muffler, that even when you are rounding the corner all slow, is louder than a harley? I feel sorry for this younger generation driving what my neighbor calls the mosquito cars. At least in my day the dorks who drove fast cars had rides that looked bad ass, not compacts with wings and candy colored paint. Put a muffler on your muffler.
Thanks.
Perhaps TPM should have a column devoted to whiny ex-lovers...'cause I don't wanna read diatribes of failed romance when life offers so much more comidic elements for our entertainment, and which should be the subject of I, Anonymous. Unless, unless, unless, that whiner happens to either make a point worthy of a1 minute read in the can, or is of sufficient humour to merit publication. This one didn't.
http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/i-anony…
Dear Noisy Muffler Import Car Driver Guy,
When you idle by my house, with your super loud muffler, I know you'll be gone in 60 seconds, but you still annoy the fuck out of me and everyone else on the street. I know my street is a good one to get all fast and furious on, but why the hell do you need that noisy ass muffler, that even when you are rounding the corner all slow, is louder than a harley? I feel sorry for this younger generation driving what my neighbor calls the mosquito cars. At least in my day the dorks who drove fast cars had rides that looked bad ass, not compacts with wings and candy colored paint. Put a muffler on your muffler.
Thanks.
Sounds like you just like needy chicks, and this one didn't change in the ways you wanted her to.
Reads like even though she is a basket case, you are the douche bag who picks the wrong girl because you must want to feel superior.
It's your fault not hers. She was herself. You were the one enabling for something as generic as the subject sex.