Every time I do

Look, mister, kung galit ka sa'kin, mas galit ako sa'yo.

Let's face it, sweetie: If you do not inspire in me the archaic female urge to decorously swoon into your oh-so-able arms, then there's nada, nil, zilch, zip. Wala.

(Yes, I am reading waaay too many trashy novels -- the kind you raise your far-too-often-raised brows at. Fuck this, if Patricia Evangelista can 'fess up to this genre addiction, then I can too.

But I digress.)

Ganito yun eh. I have no idea what's actually wrong, though I am quite sure that I have something to do with it. And though I confuse myself because I have no idea whether to give you the big gesture or to run away as far from you as possible (this one, I highly prefer) what I am sure of is that it's one gigantic pain in the be-freaking-hind.

I'M SORRY, OKAY? AND THOUGH THE CAPS LOCK MAY SEEM LIKE I DON'T MEAN IT, I ACTUALLY REALLY TRULY DO.

And if you can't accept that apology, I'll have someone shove it up your --

No, really, I'm sorry. So get off that pedestal before I sic my sweet gigantic licky-toes Labrador on you.