I loved Dr. Seuss when I was little… and one of my favorites is “Marvin K. Mooney, will you please GO NOW!
I’ve been thinking of it lately because Thomas is reading my blog again and I sincerely would just like him to go away. What do you have to do to get a man to gather up his last shred of self respect and fuck off? Apparently I haven’t gotten there yet, so I’ll continue, with a little poem in honor of my favorite book and because I’ve had it.
Poor Thomas… maybe he does like getting his ass handed to him? Now that I can do.
A little Atmosphere… Glass house… the perfect song for the perfect alcoholic liar.
And a little hate poem for the douche bag that wont fuck off.
Thomas J. Murray will you please go now!
The time has come, the time is now,
Just fuck off, I don’t care how.
You can go on crutches, You can go by cow.
Thomas J. Murray, do I need to show you how?
You can go by boat. You can go by plane.
You can fuck off the easy way or I’ll continue my disdain.
Please go, please leave… please leave me alone… better yet learn a lesson and start to atone.
You can fuck off the easy way? Or make your life worse. I can be a blessing, or a motherfuckin’ curse.
You can learn your lesson, or be stung by the bee… Thomas honey, haven’t you learned yet, not to fuck with me?
Thomas J. Murray, I don’t care how.
Thomas J. Murray, please fuck off. NOW.
You can go on your own legs, or in a chair. That’s the beauty of being over you- I don’t fucking care.
Sell your soul for quarter, and go by sale… or fold your old ass in a box and go by mail.
Thomas J. Murray, you met your match. You got lost in green eyes and the thrill of the catch. I outed you- and your bullshit game. If you continue to stalk me, the last hate blog? Tame.
I’m a strong woman, and you’re an old man. I beat you with the truth, and ruined your plans.
You’re done. You’re over. You’re yesterdays news. Read about my fantastic sex while you tie your fucking shoes.
Now to get to steppin, you sold out, old lying spouse. I told your wife everything…I hope she kicks you out of that house.
You can go on your own, or I’ll kick your ass down the plank. Phony fucking pirate, you’re just a part time skank.
Hop a plane, a yacht… or “your private jet”… I don’t care how you go… Just get!
Or stay, pour a drink and sit down and read. I’ll keep on hatin’…record speed.
Nobody likes you. Nobody cares. Nobody believes you and you’ve had to be quiet. I think it’s poetic justice, and a goddamn riot.
You lied. You cheated, but you paid for my trip- thanks motherfucker, now get a fucking grip.
I see you reading. I check the stats- but you forgot about my double major in Douche Bags & Rats. I’ll rise to the occasion and ruin your life. I’m that pissed off, and I feel bad for your wife.
So Thomas J. Murray, I think it’s safe to say… it’s in your best interest, to fuck off and go away.