Why can't this moment last forever...?

About two weeks ago, Flouncy McCunt left for some other country. She said she was returning last Thursday. When I got a call from my good roommate with the news that she wouldn't be returning 'til Sunday, it felt like my Birthday. And then, Sunday night when I got ANOTHER call letting me know that she'd be home on Thursday, I felt like Jesus (my Birthday and Christmas all at the same time) and now that it's Wednesday afternoon...I am in a definite funk at her (possible) arrival tomorrow. I suppose I could find out what flight she's on then keep calling bomb threats until she just gives up and stays wherever the fuck she is now. In her absence, the apartment has remained clean even after a 12 person party-type thing. Things have been rearranged and reorganized and, most importantly MAINTAINED...all just waiting for this dirty (in EVERY sense of the word) cunt to come back flouncing with coke and vapid stories about her and her vapid friends doing ALL SORTS of crazy drugs! Silly twat. She thinks that just because she survived cancer she can live out the rest of her days in a drug/booze/stupidity induced stupor. I know someone else who beat cancer and they aren't walking, talking barrels of toxic waste like this bitch wad. Is it because she's British? No, because I've never seen James Bond act this way. Jesus, didn't the British fucking INVENT decorum (the act of, not the word)?? If so, they should be informed just how stupid she is making that WHOLE ISLAND look. I recently had a dream where she was beautiful and completely unaddled by drugs or anything and I woke feeling sorry for her, but not any less hateful. Drugs don't approach people, people approach drugs. You don't just wake up a waste of skin and blood, it's a gradual process. As long as she doesn't talk to me ever again, I'll never mention her again. Fair enough? Good. Fucking limey cooze...