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I has a story.

I do not come out classy in it.
I may have mentioned my friend Amy, whose boyfriend of 9 years cheated on her with a cocktail waitress. well, the waitress's name is Erica. since this whole thing's happened, I've been nothing but polite to Erica, because it's not my fight (number 1) and she's a waitress at my fave spot (number 2).
so last night, my best friend Jen and I were out where Erica works (with Tommy, the dickhole who cheated on Amy). it was a good night, everything was cool. me and jen go to the bathroom and she was telling me about some problem with work, and it was a sensitive subject. well, Erica walks into the bathroom and we stopped talking cause, hi, it's private. apparently she thought we were talking about her? I don't know.
we go back and sit at our table with the hubs and some friends. erica comes over to me and asks if she can talk to me for a sec. I said sure. we go to a booth. here's how that went.
Jen, from the table: "It's about to get real." *laughter*
in the booth:
erica: I know you don't like me, and I don't know why.
me: *blink*
erica: you need to stop talking about me.
me: *blink blink*
erica: *spews verbal diarrhea about how I'm so mean to her*
me: erica, I don't like you, and you know exactly why. but I'm not in high school. I don't talk about you. I don't care about you. you're not even a real person to me.
erica: *tries to be witty, fails*
me: don't do that.
erica: well, I was trying to be an adult, but this is a waste of oxygen.
me: yes, you are.
erica: why don't you have another drink.
me: why don't you serve it to me, cvnt?

so um, yeah. I'm a classy lassy.

Re: I has a story.

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