Oh, Monica. Picture this: you actually hired a lawyer to muzzle someone from recounting their own experiences with you. Imagine standing there, straight-faced, claiming that their truthful words somehow shredded your “reputation”—the same “reputation” that, let’s be honest, never really held water to begin with. And then you try to say this site is hurting your future career prospects? Girl, please. You’ve been waving the “I don’t want to work” flag for years. Rumor has it you’ve left a trail of burnt bridges and botched timecards at jobs you managed to get, thanks to an impressive talent for lateness and a love affair with excuses. Your “career prospects” were doing just fine ruining themselves without my help.
And let’s not forget those three years you spent as my unofficial PR rep, sending out links to my ancient porn like it was a public service announcement, spreading tales of me supposedly working under a false identity. You can’t imagine how many of your so-called friends came straight to me, spilling every sordid detail. Classic Monica: the finger-pointing pro. In my humble (and 100% honest) opinion, you’re a narcissist through and through, projecting your dirty laundry onto me just to don the sparkling victim costume. Oh, Monica. Le sigh.
Take me to court, please. This website isn’t what dragged your name through the mud; you’ve been doing that with a masterful hand for ages. And “damages”? You can’t prove damages on a reputation you left crumpled by the curb long before I started holding up the mirror. By the way, Adam knows exactly how to get this site taken down. If he doesn’t want to, that’s a “you” problem, not a “me” problem.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll devote as much time as you did to painting me as some sort of villain and start posting receipts of every glorious moment of your bad behavior. Believe me, you have no idea just how deep the vault of screenshots runs, courtesy of Adam. Five years is a long time, Monica. It’s practically a documentary.