To all the boys I ever threw crazy at: I'm sorry.

I’m sorry I was passive-aggressive at your grandmother’s funeral.

I shouldn’t have told my friends about your psoriasis in such great detail.

I’m sorry that I freaked out and assumed that you are now into banging older chicks after I saw you having lunch with who I later learned was your mother.

I should have never pretended to love Rush. (....Rush sucks.)

I’m sorry I tweeted about your penis size.

I realize now that you probably didn’t need that Break-Up Songs mix CD I made you.

Remember when I told you I had a nightmare that you died at Pitchfork? A lie. I just wanted an excuse to text you.

I’m sorry that when I met your new girlfriend, I told her that she has a front butt.

I’m sorry that your new girlfriend has a front butt.


Image via Almost Genius. And hey, did you see that I wrote about "Moist" over at Slacktory?