Today I have done nothing but clean my house all day long.  What I have found is shocking.  I am left with an extreme desire to write a note to all exes around the world.

When you are the ex who is leaving the house you have shared with your former whatever, please take all of your shit with you.  This includes things you no longer want like ugly duvets, smelly old down blankets (especially when your former is allergic to down, thank you very fucking little – that was a snot generator), presents your mother bought for you that you don’t want like a juicer and a shitty mini digital camera (though I may make use of that if I can figure out how to work it since my camera broke, haha sucker), and my personal favorite, an X-Box 360 which you entirely screwed up by making a new power supply for it since the old one “caused overheating” but which then sparked a small electical fire.  What the fuck is that?  Seriously.  I can’t do anything with the X-Box as the newfangled electrical work on it clearly voids the warranty, and nobody wants to touch the damn thing now.  Would it not have been simpler to buy the intercooler in the first place???

But I digress.  My point is, your ex’s home is not your own personal Goodwill drop-off.  I don’t have any more time to take your shit to Goodwill than you do.  So when you move out, take ALL your crap with you, and you deal with it yourself.  It’s not my fucking job, asshole!  I’ll give myself an “amen sister” there.

Now a note for any future boyfriend I may have (though really, with my current attitude, I’m thinking the pickins are slim).  I do not cook.  I’ll tell you this upfront.  I never have, and I never will.  I’ll make the shit out of some cookies and brownies and other yummy junky foods.  But I will not cook real food.  I am perfectly capable of doing it, but I don’t enjoy it.  So I don’t do it.  I’d like to think my skill at blowing you will make up for this, but if you nag me about cooking, you’re guaranteeing yourself a sharp drop in the number of blow jobs given.  Like to nil.

I know I’ve gone off about the cooking issue before, but for whatever reason, and it may have something to do with anger generated by finding random ex-boyfriend droppings scattered around my house, I got all pissed off about it again today.  Fuck dude, I never once said I would cook for you!  Idiot.

Done ranting now.  Thank you and good night!

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