Who Needs an Alarm Clock?

I feel for you. I really do. Anyone whose significant other is an em-effer, off effing around with an ugly-ass bitch, surely has cause for complaint. But you knew that. That's why you were screaming at him on your cell phone from the bathroom in room 321 of the Ramada Inn at eight o'clock this morning. And, if the said em-effer tells you he's staying with his effing brother, but is instead, esconced in the arms of the aforementioned ugly-ass bitch...well. I can totally see your point.

But, frankly, my dear, I think you need a wider audience than the sleepy woman in the next room.

So why don't you charge that thing up again and call Jerry Springer?