Just a Love Machine

I recently found myself lying in a ditch, flat on my back, looking up at the clear blue sky and pondering… why me?!

What was I doing in this ditch? Simple.

I was basking in the proverbial hole I had just dug myself. Typical I thought and then I started to realise that it was all bullshit. This tart had not asked the Shoe Gods, the Booze Gods or the Gods of Debauchery for this so why the fuck I had dug myself into this fucking hole shall forever be one of the great mysteries of the universe!

This hole was all due to me waking up one Sunday morning, hungover as all fuck – possibly reeking like a bum who has been living off Black Labels for the past 5 years, and realised that I was officially involved in a love triangle! Me, the booziest fucker, oops Freudian slip I so totally meant tart! Now this love triangle is what I call extra fucking sticky because it involves the ex of a good mate’s. As all tarts know, exes are just plain fucking off limits – unless of course he looks like Brad Pitt in which case sorry for your mat, I mean if the bitch was stupid enough to let Brad Pitt go then she shouldn’t mind if you have a go. One can always use the excuse that you were just making sure that he was over her or making sure his um apparatus is still fully functional and ready to go – yes actually I think she would be greatful, what a mate!

But I digress...

Anyhoo, this ex basically confessed his undying love for moi one drunken Saturday evening. At the time, my tarty ego clouded my judgment and I found myself trying to justify why I should let him take me for dinner – I mean it was just dinner and a girl has to eat, plus it would be free, and even though is way below my set of standards (every tart has their par) I thought, maybe I shouldn’t be so shallow?… Mmmm.... That was until Crombie managed to sort me out with a slaps and a: Dude, what the fuck?! I was now faced with having to turn another man down and use the friendship trump card – you know the one that every half decent tart keeps up her sleeve?!

So that’s how the love triangle started – me, Mr Ex and My Mate. You see it is even more complicated as Mr. Ex and My Mate are still exceptionately good friends and dated for 5 years… Thank fuck I wasn’t physically attracted to Mr. Ex – stunning guy but just no fireworks *sigh* So I let him down as best as I could and I think I have managed to escape a head-on collision between this love triangle and my fabulous life…

I felt insanely bad about all of this as after all I am an incredibly stunning tart (I refuse to use the word nice, I mean what an ineffectual word – nice is how you describe your in-laws, when being PC of course) until Crombie made me repeat the following:

It is not my fault that I am beating men off with sticks
It is most definitely not my fault that I am shit hot
It is not my fault that I get drunk and then my stunningness gets misinterpreted
It is not my fault that Mr. Ex thinks I am the shizzle…!

*sigh*
It really is a tart’s life, tough at the top and suffocating at the bottom!