[tumblindice]

What you said!
And, `Ann, you’re nothing to me now. You’re not a sister, you’re not a friend.
I don’t want to know you or what you do. I don’t want to see you on TV, I don’t want your books in my house.
When you see your good friend, that rectum with arms, Bill Maher, and knock boots, you bone-rollercoaster, I want to know a day in advance, so I won’t be there.
You understand?’

She’s dead to me.
Whoa, I don’t mean really dead, like the whole `cross-hairs’ tempest-in-a-teapot! I just mean she’s finally shown her east coast, yacht club, country club colors and, frankly my dear, I don’t give a ding-dong-diddly darn about what she thinks or says anymore.
And she’s too skinny.

[who knows what evil?]

Your post is the first item I have read all day that put a big smile on my face.

Bone roller coaster? Sweet.