Poofer and pigeon met in real life just like YOU tried to meet flea in real life but she realized what a worthless scumbag you are and tossed your worthless stinky arse to the curb.
/me cocks an eye at the shadowy presence watching over the proceedings, then weighs in.
what she told you? Or are you deliberately leaving out the part where she was going to fly to Ottawa for the week... in March... right about the time I stopped posting at The Retard Farm in fact? Just as you are leaving out the part how you told me two months later
that you were intending to keep reminding her
of my supposed nastiness to ensure she would never
look favourably upon me again at a time where she was begging EVERYONE to let it die
? Two months ahead of me returning to The Retard Farm, to discover just how effective your constant badgering of her on the topic had wound her up into marshmallow burning frenzies?
The three of you, pigeon, poofer and your worthless arse self, share the same stuck-on-stupid gene.....lol
Mmmmm, and what exactly does that say about you, eh? You do know I called it quits on the relationship in April '16, right? That I continued to respond to her requests to stop tormenting her on The Retard Farm by telling her that I wasn't posting, that I had no intention of dragging her kids into it or using what I knew about her to mess with her real life? That after I contacted THE M0RON directly in an attempt to get him to talk her away from the ledge of dumping my PI out against Ant, she begged me directly to let it go, right as the exact same time that you, a supposed friend of hers, was assuring me that you were going to keep it alive and festering for as long as you could draw breath.
Remember what I told you in reply at the time? I do. "I'm already on the lookout for the next 'sweet thing' to come my way" I said. And by luck I found it, only days later, in the form of new and improved work contacts which put me in the company of people whose names on the world stage stretched from Great Britain so South Africa and Jamaica to Hollywood. And six months on from that, fostering a relationship with an accomplished vocalist who, in a stunning reversal of tradition, popped the question to me. Been married for over a year now, and neither of us are on our backs in bathtubs screaming at total strangers to put their babies in us!
I'm smarter than ewes.
One would hope so, but you're not smarter than I. See, I told Flea back in mid '16 that it was rapidly getting to the point that irrespective of what she or I did going forth, there would be people like you about to make sure she never got her wish that all the harassment over it would stop. And I based this in large part on my observations of Feral and Freud's relationship, with one key difference.
That difference is, quite simply, that I have wound people like you up to such a point that you will use any and every thing that you think
will get under my skin, quite literally for years after it's been proven that it has no effect on my posting habits whatsoever. I told her people would still be dragging it up for years after the fact. And here you are, doing exactly that.
And did I mention more successful?
At sucking? Sure, I'll give you that. I'll also give that you are more successful at being an embittered old hag with a history of screwing over anyone and everyone to get your way. I saw you do it to your one-time pal Omnia back at Chat Chimps, I've seen you do it to others. You're doing it to Flea now. Go on, go ask her in open forum over at Sperging Gonadz if she wants you to keep bringing up the chance for me to revisit one of the more painful chapters in her life, namely the one where she threw a once loyal friend, colleague and potential suitor under the bus, only to have it overturn so spectacularly that it takes only a mere mention to start it all over again.
You're supposed to be her friend, so I'll wait for you to ping her on it. I already know what her kneejerk response is going to be, along with that of both Bonesaw and Freud. I'm perfectly content to keep responding to this whenever it's thrown in my lap; I don't owe her any favours after her carry-on and quite frankly don't much care one way or the other if she rises above it or spends the rest of her life wishing she had never even mentioning it to you in the first place. You're her firends, though apparently incapable of acting like it due to your innate self centeredness and boiling hatred for someone you wish you could bring to book for not petting you on the head and saying "there there" when it comes to the wreck you've authored of your own life.