As dictated by Faranza Syns

From Chi's Little Mad Forgotten Polaroids:

On Monday, I got an award for writing some story I fail to recall (I recall every single detail, but that's my universal answer to deflect awkwardness and long silences so deal with it).
The thing is, I got Number 2.
Guess who got the One?
A sex maniac, I tell you.
(Yeah, it's Mr. J)

First reaction: *HORRIFIED GASP*

Bleargh, that prick won?

Okay, fine, so I had a complete change of heart, but so what? I'm a loose cannon. And it's not like Mr. Prissy-Perv-Joshua actually endeared himself to me. (think unanswered text messages and snobbish nose-in-air attitude.) Puh-lease, Mr J. You're not the only man on earth I can drool over.

Now, Jason, ... that is a prime specimen of manhood, I tell you. Joshua, you can shove your brilliance up a hole where the sun doesn't shine.

Say, how come most of the brilliant men in my life always have the names that start with the letter J? Good God, it's a bloody curse.

Bleargh.

Mr J, I'm so over you.


Stoic men are hot,
But you're still hotter.