Colette is a real crunchy granola cunt.
Everything with her had to be natural. Food, childbirth, her bush.
Seriously, what bitch doesn’t wax her pussy? It’s like she tries too hard. Like natural is the only way she can feel above everyone.
Anyway, fuck that bitch. I have a real woman now. One who puts time into making herself sexy. For me. Because I’m worth a sexy bitch.
I wouldn’t give a shit about that crunchy granola cunt at all other than the fact that I had a kid with her. How stupid was I a few years ago?
Anything for the ass, I guess.
She wasn’t that bad when we were fucking. She changed after we split.
I have to see that crunchy granola cunt every other weekend so I can pick up my daughter.
At least it’s really easy to annoy her. All you have to do – in case anyone else needs to piss her off – is give her kid something that smells strong. You know, like perfume or hairspray. Anything scented. That really crawls up her natural ass.
And it’s perfect because nobody would ever guess I’m doing it just to piss her off.
The biggest problem with having a kid with some crunchy granola cunt – other than being told by the courts that I have to pay that fucking bitch monthly – is the disruption to my family.
Having my daughter here isn’t the disruption. She’s cute as hell and smart as fuck. I know now that nurture does not wipe out nature, no matter what my ex says.
But, no matter how much like me my daughter is, there’s still the stench of crunchy granola bitch on her when we bring her home.
The kid never gets to watch tv. Her mother cuts her hair short like she doesn’t give a fuck about helping her fit in. And she asks a lot of questions.
Every weekend she’s over, my wife is exhausted by Saturday afternoon, and we can’t have that.
We think there’s something wrong with that kid. All that energy and bullheadedness. That crunchy granola cunt ruined my child.
She doesn’t want to play video games and she’s scared of the ATV – like a five year old knows what’s best for herself. Six? Seven? Anyway, like a kid knows anything.
And I just know Colette is over there laughing at me. Raising my kid all crunchy granola just to make my weekends almost impossible.
Well, fuck her! My wife’s son just got diagnosed with ADHD so we started giving The Stubborn One his meds to calm her down.
I got sick of telling her to calm down. Relax. Chill. Fuck.
But, holy shit, those meds had the opposite effect. My daughter got hyper as hell while my wife’s kid got chill.
I threw my hands up in the air. I was ready to give the fuck up. Let her run wild. Let my wife deal with her.
If my cunt of an ex-wife tries to come after me for being a granola hater, I’ll find some way of fucking her over.
I hate the thought, though. And right when I was about to give up, I had a genius idea. Depression meds.
It’s perfect. That kid is calm as fuck now on my weekends.