It's not you. It's me. I hope we can still be friends. And on the rare-but-not-TOO-rare occasion get together and let me woo-hoo your who-who.

Oh!  The infamous pseudo-compassionate break-up opener!  It's like a shard of glass disguised in a coat of arsenic infused chocolate, enticing you to buy into it and bite hard!  And then what happens?  You bleed from every orifice and DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!  True story.


Well I haven't personally witnessed this line *knocks on wood* but I do imagine it to be quite displeasing ... to say the least.  I often fantasize how I would respond if it did happen.  Naturally, it would involve a lot of ass-kicking but not before I ball my eyes out and confess how my life is over!  And possibly take out a rope noose for theatrics.  The trick is NOT to seem fine.  Nooo. The trick is to fall apart and COMPLETELY.  The only intent behind someone using a cheap platitude such as "It's not you, it's me" is to ease their own guilt for making you feel like poops.  Why give them that?   Nooo.  You are fabulous!  And fabulous people deserve to feel unpoopy.


In the event of such an occasion, I recommend running a hot bath to formally rid yourself of ALL scum.


I ALSO recommend THE EX-FACTOR (hahaha what smooth transitioning!)

PREPARE FOR DEATH & DESTRUCTION!!!

I have to be honest, as cute as it is, I don't particularly fancy the scent of this one.  "It's not a sweet vanilla smell, a little musky in a great way."  


Well, which is it?  Sweet or musky?  Vanilla or great?  I mean, it's either vanilla scented or it's not.  Don't say that it is and then imply that it's not?!  I confuse easily!