Hi Tattlers
So, I can't cope with all this daylight saving. How do I turn it off? I can't lose an hour, there's just so many comments from the haters to react to. It would appear you're growing in strength. Are you buying bots too? I can't help that I'm a sensitive moo moo. Sensitive to the fact that you're all assholes. I'm not an asshole though, obviously. I'm a haemorrhoid. I irritate assholes. Speaking my mind is easy. Speaking tactfully, not so much. I do like sarcasm though. It's like punching people in the face with words. And as for the Tattler getting pregnant. Ewww your happiness is getting all over my bitterness and jealousy.
I'm well aware I'm not everyone's cup of tea though. I'd rather be a shot of alcohol anyway. I only drunk 10 bottles of wine, because it's free, but mostly to make Cawwee sound more interesting. And, not to get technical, but according to chemistry, alcohol is a solution. And, I need a lot of solutions, as life constantly punches me down, did you all know? I apologise that you all don't have the brain capacity to understand me. And that is not my tit to carry. You should all broaden your vision and stop trying to catch me out. You're all so immature. Although, age shouldn't matter unless you're cheese or wine. They can go on my tomorrow's gratitude list. Along with my hair, again.
Talking of hair, my lady garden in particular, did you actually see my utter embarrassment of my workmen seeing my naked reflection bouncing off my chrome four poster bed? How dare they? My assistant Dee said not to stress, as real men like curves and dogs like bones. Just because you're paying someone to be on your team, doesn't mean they're on your team. She's such a fat witch. Always bringing me hula hoops. And, I'm not going to sugar coat what I say from herein, as she'll just eat that too. Unlike me, I like to keep my IQ equivalent to my weight. Low!
Not only did my workmen perve on me naked and break my teacups, but they nearly tried to break into my house too. I texted my husband, who I allowed to go out and play golf, after hearing a loud pop. He texted back he thought the pop may have been me pulling my head out of my ass. Now, I'm not saying I hate him. I just hope his next blow job is from a shark. It's not like I'll be giving him one. Sex? No thanks. My life fucks me every single day. Again, speaking of ass, I don't know what your problem is with me selling my used toilet wallpaper. Once you know your worth, you don't offer people discounts. If it's ok for Gwyneth to sell vagina scented candles, then why can't I sell tit scented wallpaper? And stop comparing me to Tamara. She's a reels hoe. My phone battery lasts longer than her relationships. I'm the opposite of a slut, so I never give a duck.
Love Lydia xx