Unhappy Monday to you, Spursland! I really don't get my feelings hurt after Spurs crush them up into little pieces anymore. I just reach for the crazy glue. I expect it to happen now, but yesterday hurt me. It put a scar on my soul that you would need to have someone you cared about to throw a kitchen appliance at you to match. Not only did I wake up early for this, I am excruciatingly sick. Okay, maybe it's just a cold, I can't be sure how bad it is. Nobody acts more like a baby when they are sick than me. That statement includes actual babies. Either way, yesterday sucked and we should move on to other things.
And now the "news"
Don't! Don't! Don't you fucking dare get my hopes up like that you merciless ANIMAL. Don't you send me down a spiraling tailspin of sad faces and emotional neediness that only ends in a pile of human patheticness, slathered in maple syrup and pulled pork, with the Postal Service playing very, very loudly.
You had to come out with this the day after we lose to a pathetic team because we have pathetic levels of speed? No, no, no, no. It hurt when you left, but these comments are beyond. You don't want the ex back if they say "hey maybe I'll be back when I am done banging this person I chose over you." I hope you have to stay there and the Spanish economy does what it's been on the verge of doing for years, collapse like the Wales back line when they are facing the attackers from a real country.
Not good enough, we'll take that 17-year-old you had playing on a free.
Okay, maybe I should stop bitching about my stupid
white people, first world sports fan problems.
But I bet he isn't as good as me at making soup!