Bitter is the new Black

It's entirely possible, and more than probable, that the title of this post is also the name of a book that I saw at one point in time but can't recollect for certain. Wherever this ingenious title came from, it is certainly true as of late. At a movie Saturday night (The Ghost of Girlfriends Past) I realized that I am truly bitter. And bitchy. And all the other characteristics that go hand-in-hand with being heart-broken and walked all over. I'm pretty much mad at the world, and it's creator, for getting me into this position. Again. For hell's sake, can't anything ever work out? Just once? Is that too much to ask for? Really?

For what it's worth, I'm past the crying-at-love-songs and weeping-in-my-pillow stage. I've now reached the seriously pissed off stage in which I want to inflict physical and emotional pain. I want to lock him in a room and make him listen to the HSM soundtrack over and over and over. Bake him chocolate chip cookies with Exlax instead of chocolate chips. Tell everyone we know that he wears women's underwear.

Of course, I won't do any of the above. But a girl can dream...