Maturity? Nah.

When one of my closest friends recently broke up with her superrat of a boyfriend,  I finally eloquently and respectfully told her what I thought:  He is a parachute-sized douche bag.  Like so many stupid women, she is having a hard time letting go despite this hard fact (see blogicle entitled "video killed the breakup").  Thus, every time I talk to her, I remind.  In the middle of a particularly passionate rant entailing everything I detest about him, I told her I could even write a song about it.  This actually came to me last week.  Sing it in the melody of Jingle Bells.  I'm not even kidding.  I sang it out loud to myself after I wrote it, and giggled alone for the rest of the night.  I'm contemplating recording it to publish on Youtube.  This may seem schoolgirlish in the face of our world's issues, but I can't stifle my creative flow.  Or keep a straight face as I type that.  ha.  

parachute sized, parachute sized, parachute sized douche bag. 

she's finally done, the victory's won. 

let's never meet a-gain....hey!

you were so selfish,

you had to be put first.

now that she's set you free, go disappear from earth. 

i tried to give it time.

i put on a fake smile.

now i can so gladly admit, i loathed you all the while!

OH...parachute sized, parachute sized, parachute sized douche bag.  

we're glad you're gone,

we hope for long, even if you are gay....hey!

why can't you leave her be?

you've done enough for sure.

slither into your weasel hole, and we will rest assured.  

Everybody!

parachute sized, parachute sized, parachute sized douche bag.

i love my friend

you can't understand

so goodbye and be gone!