 She, sometimes the way you chew gets on my last nerve and I have yet to see you floss. He, she meant nothing to me. I wanted to make you jealous. And now that you're ruining the game and saying mean things, if you read my journal, you ought to know that. And you also ought to know I hate when you spray your hair like an old woman. I hate when you eat in bed and wipe your hand on the sheet. Truce.