I think the reason why you talk about yourself so much is because you are afraid of what other people will say about you.

You prepare your argument ahead of time. You set yourself up so high that no one can touch you.

You may have your pedestal, but I have a sledgehammer.

  I remember looking out of the garden window at the lush, green grass, the moss growing up the sides of the tree trunks, and the vines clinging to the stone face of the house. Those vines used to flower every summer, right around my birthday. I used to think that that was their gift to me.

  In the fall, the leaves would turn. Orange, red, and yellow would flood the ground and before turning brown, snow would begin to fall, protecting the naked trees, preserving the dying leaves.

  Now these leaves are wilted on the ground. The trees are burned and the moss lies in heaps of ash.

  It is my birthday and there are no flowers.

I feel like I need to become interested in an asshole because at least he won’t be too nice to tell me the truth…

I really didn’t need the bonus of you washing my face as well as my hair. I hope it didn’t cost extra.

Thanks for trying to make a joke of it. Commenting that I won’t have to shower this evening really made the shampoo in my eye not sting anymore.

Yes I do have long layers. I told you that already. Don’t act so surprised when you discover them after you’ve already blown my hair dry. No that’s okay, I didn’t need them trimmed. I like it when half of my hair still has split ends. It’s a new trend I’m starting.

Oh thanks, I do have lovely hair. But don’t think that just because you paid me a compliment means that you are going to get a good tip. You already dug your grave.

I called a co-worker (a woman twice my age) “Bloody cheeky!” with an English accent not because I wanted to, but because she insisted I do it!