Your killing this blog.

For the record, I know it has taken me nine days and a few minutes to respond to your "neglect" post, coincidentally, the inaugural one on our blog. So go ahead and make those jokes; tie my negligence for responding into a running theme. That'll be funny for about 78 seconds...

Starting, now.

(Haha! Chicken soup reference! Nice one!)

When I first met you, I thought you were wicked smart, wicked funny. Then you started to like me, lost your job, etc. Now all you do is sit around the house all day watching "90210" reruns, feeding your depressed cat quarter-pills of Prozac and texting me sweet nothings.

Least you could do is edit your first post on this f#$%ing blog: "I know what your going to say." Seriously? "Your?" Your mistake is our embarrassment. Your lazy. How do we expect people to take are arguments in earnest when you our screwing up simple Grandma?

(BTW, When is your Grammar visiting again?)

I see you used a dictionary to look up the meaning of "neglect." I also see you only used it once. I presume that it was your dictionary; I certainly don't think that you are a dictionary, because:

1. Dictionaries don't get sick.
2. Dictionaries are smart.
3. Dictionaries always have a job.

The dictionary is your friend, E, and mine. You're my girlfriend. I can't love both of you if you don't learn to love each other.

– ERIC