Bye bye, Brett

So in a little over 13 hours, 

The annoying, uninvited asshat Brett will be history.

And it couldn't happen sooner. 

The surgeon told me Brett was stage 1, but level 3.

The cancer cells were unruly. 

What does that mean? I wondered. So I looked it up. 

Level 1 cancer cells are calm and orderly like coffee get together. 

Level 2, a cocktail party, things are starting to get a little loosey goosey, 

a couple of spilled drinks, but nothing is getting knocked over or broken. 

Then there's level 3, aka Brett.

The Beach Week of cancer cells.

A true rager of a cancer party, with more assholes showing up every minute. 

So I am more than happy to see the floodlights of the cancer cops tomorrow morning. 

Take Brett out. Send him packing. Party's over. 

Brett the tumor thought he could do whatever he wanted. 

Silly boy. You should know better. Your hours are numbered.

And you picked the wrong boobs to mess with. 

Stay tuned, Brigade. We'll keep you abreast* of what's going on.

Love, Ginnie

PS: Fuck cancer

*pun courtesy of Haute Mess