Good Afternoon.

At the moment I'm sitting at the Grind, a kickass coffee joint at main street and King Edward, having a latte, and writing on the pay 1 dolla per 20 minute spurt internet kiosk in here. Why?

Well, my laptop is in the hospital. For a while. It needs a new Hard Drive, a prospect I'm not thrilled about, but it's still under warranty, and I don't have to pay for it to be fixed, though there was a big ol' debate on whether it was actually covered by it's warranty. I love arguing when I know I'm right. (Guess who won that debate?)

I knew this was going to happen, because apparently I'm cursed. Cursed with technology. Yes Ladies and gentlemen, my issues with tech, stem from long ago and far away, when someone sent me a file ages and ages past infected with a virus that pretty much exploded my poor parents computer. Blech. Minus the explosions, of course, but still, NOT cool.

As it stands, I probably won't have my poor lil' laptop back until Wednesday by the earliest, a prospect which has me ultimately, a pissy little bitch.

On another note, I usually don't air my dirty laundry this way, but it's revelation time, boys and girls.

I was informed recently that a certain Mr Pike, has either

A) married some broad, or

B) is intending to marry some broad in the very near future... A mere six weeks after I gave him the heave-ho.

This makes me wonder. Did I, in all actuality, suffere the indescretions of Mister Devin Pike, under the assumption that he was single, faithful, and actually loved me, or did he end up brushing off of said dame, WHILE I was down in Dallas for the four days, where coincidentally enough I paid for abso-fucking-lutely everything? INCLUDING my airfare, INCLUDING his meals, you name it, I paid for it down there, with the exception of the last night was there, where Devin GRACIOUSLY allowed himself to crack his wallet (moths flittered out, by the way), and didn't recieve so much as a thank-you, but more a feigning of "heart trouble", leg cramps, and a particularily disturbing crying session, which would be more akin to a violent seizure while grabbing my arms painfully (hint: it wasn't ME who was "crying") to elicit my sympathy? During sex, (which was BAD, no less. achieving and sustaining erection, would be nice, Dev.) All of this within the FOUR days, (well, actually probably somewhere around the two and a half days, if you include my travel time...)

Yeah. I realize I'm beng a cunt. But you know what? It feels good. It's been too long since something has made me feel good. And you know what? That fucking whiny bitch deserves an evisceration. a typographical crucification. Though, he's far from the saviour of anything, more akin to the Devils failed third son.

I bloody well think I've earned the right to BE a cunt, fuck you very much. I made the effort. *I* busted my bottom to go see him. I was doing most of the work. Never again, I assure you, unless that person is WORTH my time. Devin Pike was so far below me it makes me want to scream. At myself, at him, and unless he's changed his stripes, which I doubt he has, since it's hard to teach an OLD dog new tricks, this new Missus Pike is going to be pretty fucking dissapointed when it all boils down to it. If she happens to stumble across this, one day along the way, honestly, I'm sorry you have to deal with him.

If he has the balls to apologize to me, to be HONEST, (though, in my very humble opinion, he hasn't figured out what honesty is...) I'll wholeheartedly accept that. Until then, he's the dirt on the shit stuck to my size 11's.

Linds, out. See you (hopefully) by Wednesday.