One Ticket for the Bitter Express, Please.

an important thing that all of our readers must know is how love&cyanide got it's name. what some of you, okay most of you besides g-money, are completely unaware of is a simple fact about missy. similar to a beloved green seuss-ian character, there happens to be a hole where the girl's heart should be. this has always been a major source of entertainment for friends and family allowing for a slew of mean nicknames which are deemed unoffensive to me, because of the aforementioned lack of warmth in my upper left torso. contrary to popular belief, one does not need this organ to survive and can actually find a more meaningful and enjoyable existence without it. due to my handicap i am exempt from numerous activities required of the average twenty-two year old female such as picking out affectionate birthday cards and crying over frat boys.

so why should you care?

well, this is my apology for neglecting the little blog that could for the past month or so. i never knew how detrimental it could be to my humor or biting wit if someone turned all who-ville on me and made the heart grow ten sizes in one day. and so someone stole the bitter from my bus. boo hissssss.

so why am i back?

in classic m.r. style the hole has returned to its normal dormant state. what? how so? actually the story isn't that bizarre. which makes it more bizarre really. oh how i long for the good old days of having a bowl of pretzels thrown at my face, abandoned on a national holiday, left in the woods, or even my standard tossing of electronic equipment at the offenders head. but alas, being a functional human being means it's not okay to throw tantrums. [cue lyrics from coming of age blink182 song here.] i don't really find that at all appealing though, especially since it leaves me with no interesting tales for vous, so to right the situation an overdue newyearsresolution is in order.


dear loveandcyanide,

i solemnly swear to only date people with drug dependencies, anger management or multiple personalities. i promise to always write about the shenanigans of said disasters and to never let them stay the whole night or hold my hand. i will try my best to meet really unintelligent men in public places and record what they say to me before i vomit on them and ignore them. more importantly, i vow to never become overly optimistic and abandon you, my snarky little bastard child.

sincerely,
m.r.heartless