Stories of the love gone bad lovestinks
The Stories...
girl of my dreams dumped me! 
dumped through a text message. 
crazy brits 
dumped by a huge loser 
unbelievable: he broke up with me! 
what are the odds? 
 
i was dumper and dumpee 
dumped on national tv 
dumped by a loser 
pretty girl 
summertime math girl 
a david lynchy kind of love 
 
why valentine's day shouldn’t exist 
potato boy rejection 
loser 
pee on leg 
my semi-formally formal 
dangling in the tournifouria 
 
dumped on new years by finacee 
dumped by his fiancee 
intruder alert 
mrs. robot would not go out with me 
double dump 
love me back. 
 
rat bastard asshole 
worst road trip ever 
she came in through the balcony window 
bank farm bag 
rhapsody in black and blue 
tea time 
 
friends hold hands 
what are you trying to say? 
go back to montana 
technically 
regret! regret! 
i'll have that sex to go... 
 
no, you can't have any of my fries 
but i got a boner for you in the maimi 
kissing my mom 
the famous blue raincoat 
007 the hard way 
i should gotten a clue? 
 
moss mouth 
rollerskating party 
right this way sir 
boob 
orangina 
two bad 
 
not my flannel sheets! 
down boy! down! 
ally mcbeal 
the road less traveled by 
fetal position 
oooo, soundtracks 
 
soundtracks for dumpees 
what's so damn funny? 
he lived in his parents' garage 
yellow shoes 
give me book! i will read it! 
poo boy. 
 
you don't have to go home but you can't stay here 
todd synagogue 
mrs flynt's heartbreak class 
computer held hostage 
don't leave / do leave 
Love Stinks. Sometimes we get dumped.
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Go Back To Montana
by i submit it
let's see, it was the last semester of law skool and a close friend and i won an American Bar Association competition for our region. the finals were held in missoula, montana at montana law skool. bumma for us, cuz the year prior the finals were held in hawaii (that's why we went for it in the first place). so, needless to say, we crapped out in the finals and hit some local bars to chill for the rest of the weekend. i met this guy, who will remain nameless, ok his name is todd edgar, and we played pool, hung out and had sex. he was pretty cool as far as the local gene pool went, but he was a pizza delivery guy. so i was kinda a big fish in his little pond, knowhati'msayin? i went back to nyc to finish up skool and we wrote a few letters (yes, actual letters), some of which included some really juvenille drawings like high school doodles. now i'm not totally stoopid, ladies, he was really really good looking and uh, big. so there i was packing up to move away from nyc, months later right before graduation, and about 30 minutes away from a date, a real one, with a guy from my graduating class, when bing bong, the doorbell rings and it's montana boy AT MY APARTMENT to help me move. evidently his pops kicked in the cash to get him a last minute ticket to en-why-see cuz he wuz in luv. uh oh.

so i told him, looky, i gotta date with an italian guy who was born and raised in brooklyn (in other words, he will kick your ass if he knew you were here) so why don't you go get some boxes for me and i'll see ya back here in a few hours?

when my then-boyfriend picked me up, we went to a nice dinner in bay ridge (italian place). i drank most of the wine and started laughing right around dessert-time. he says, hey why u laffin? and i said, well, there's a guy from montana at my apartment right now ha ha ha. check please! i convinced him not to kick his ass and even said seriously i will make him leave but let me handle it (a miracle he agreed), so he dropped me off at my apartment and i went up there and homie was passed out on my bed with the grateful dead playing in the room and an empty bottle of wild turkey next to him and a few, that's it, liquor boxes nearby. the first thought in my head wuz, m'fka, those are the only boxes you could get!? i said go to the grocery store!! but it had been a really long time (hours and hours), probably midnight by the time i got back, so i called the airlines and got him booked on the first flight back in the morning. then i had to go wake him up (shake and wake!) and tell him, hey dude, guess what? my italian boyfriend says go back to montana.

poor guy. he was pretty hung. over. ha ha











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