Copy of MySpace blog

Shit is still disappearing off the other blog, so I am copying this here for posterity.
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Christ, I hate to waste anymore of my blog space on this moron, but I feel like I need to, just this once.

Sarah sure does love to play the little "stalker victim"

She loves to tell people how I'm stalking and harassing her online, and I mean everyone who will listen. Blah blah cunt, blah blah stalker, blah blah fat, blah blah "heffer" (her "boyfriend's" spelling, not mine). She loves crying to her "friends" about how I made fun of her "miscarriage". She loves playing the victim more than anyone I know.

She also loves to brag about how she "fucked Chuck for a year" and how proud of herself she is about it. (I don't know that she fucked him "for a year", I doubt it, highly, since there was hardly anytime he was alone in the house or away from the house without me, but whatever, it's not like I'd put it past him anyway.)

Is that really something to be so proud of, and what the fuck did I ever do to her to deserve the wrath she laid on me before I ever even knew who the hell she was.

I didn't know who she was when she added me as a friend on here and on MyYearbook.
I didn't know who she was when she was chatting me up and wishing me happy birthday.
I didn't know who she was when she was putting up pictures of my husband on her MySpace. I just thought she was putting them up because she knew him from school.

I hadn't done anything to her when I playfully asked this girl who was my "friend" if that was pics of my husband she had up and she responded by suggesting I commit suicide, blocking me, and using my name to stir shit up with people I barely knew.

She jumped on me like a fly on ca-ca, and I never did anything to her, she was just so excited she managed to work something up with my husband she couldn't help herself.

So yeah, I make fun of her empty womb, and her crazy eyebrows, and those stupid overalls
And yeah, I've wished bad things on her like extremely painful but slow killing cancer, baldness, total paralysis with full awareness, infected anal fissures, just enough oxygen loss to cause retardation, gang-rape by hobo clowns, getting sucked into a wood-chipper feet first so she can enjoy the ride, genital warts, Ebola virus, food poisoning, more seizures, more migraines, more miscarriages, fatal miscalculation of her Xanax dosage, more of her friends killing themselves where she would find them (it's not like she'd be quick enough to save them, only to cut them down!), being dragged off by a rabid timber wolf, herpes, Dingo takes her baby, poltergeists, tsunami, Fibromyalgia, land mine amputation, and being buried alive. (There's probably more, but I don't want to seem bitter...LOL)

The sad thing is though, that all of these would just bring her more sympathy, and she loves the attention. She's probably having an orgasm right now reading about how I spent enough time on her to think about all that stuff I wrote above.

In the end, she's just sad and attention starved, and that's probably why she was so pleased about the whole Chuck thing, whatever it was. She got to roll in and "save" him from his shitty marriage, and buddy up to his parents, and seem better than me for one tiny moment. That moment has passed.

Now, she's lowered herself to making up a boyfriend, and using him to play internet games that no real man would ever play.

BTW...Really, is he that much of a drama queen himself that he would jump into an internet girl-fight?
That he would beg MySpace people to block me in futile hope of getting me deleted.
That he would call me whining about how I said mean stuff on MySpace? (We all have guy friends who will make a call for us, that is not proof that he exists)
That he would send her prissy comments like "I can't wait till I'm in your arms and looking in your eyes and I know everything's okay again"? (Ugh, I hope he's fictional, if not he's a simpering super-pussy.)

If you're gonna make a man up, at least make it believable enough that your own friends will fall for it, or at least make him a MAN and not a wussy drama queen. Eww.
I'd much rather have a philandering junkie than a whiny baby, and I'm not all that hip on the philandering junkie.

But I digress.

So, she's pathetic and I'm exhausted and it probably needs to end. No amount of blocking is going to get me gone, and my life will go on whether she wants it to or not. I'm going to have good days and bad days and days where I'm bitter and angry and days when I don't think about her at all and it's all part of it.

But, this will be the last bit of energy I put into this.

She's 2000 miles away and I have a family and a life to tend to, so unless she wants to bring her big, stupid, HeeHaw overall'd ass to my house and really get down to it, there's really nothing more to be done here.

Bring it on Bitch, or drop it, I'm done.