Wow. I’m clearly all pent up. Some terrible elevator love scene totally just got me all percolated on the couch. And dude, it was on the most inappropriate tv show to get worked up about possible. I don’t even want to tell you because it’s too mortifying.
...
It was CSI!
I am shamed.
But hear me out!! It was some scorchingly hot, rich ass silver fox in an elevator with a younger chica, and he looks at her for a minute, then grabs her and totally kisses her, which she’s like wtf at first, then gets into it because he’s smokin’. Then the elevator door opens and he gets shot.
It’s so unfair! Why doesn’t random shit like that ever happen to me? Not the shooting part. Just the hot accidental sexual encounter part. I guess it’s because that’s probably a good way to get The HIV and/or mutilated by a stranger, but it sure looks like fun when you’re on day four of the flu and watching bad tv!
Oh, shitcicles, I’m turning into the little old lady who gets all juiced up on Harlequin Romance novels already!
RezNOr
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I had a date with Mr. Reznor. Who wants to touch me? No, but really Lizzard, Nelle, and I went to see NIN in Columbia (Mizzou, whewt!) and we had killer seats right by the stage and danced like whore bags. He totally looked right at me and I was all, “Psssshhht! WhatevAR! You WISH you could have this!” And I’m sure he does, because shit, bitch! He legitimately can’t have this!
What’s funny is that ten years ago, I would have likely punched myself in the uterus in an effort to abort any hypothetical fetuses that might have been growing there to clear the way to bear Reznor’s child. And had you told me that I’d ever think otherwise, I would have laughed in your face and been a huge asshole about it. Lol, cuz I’ve always been such a nice person and all.
So, I guess Trent is still technically on My Freebie List, but seriously, do you know how many skanks he’s put the naughty on over the years? I think Ronald put it best when he said, “I bet his girlfriend has to fuck him up the ass with a strap-on to get him off because there’s so much shit growing on his dick, he can’t get it up anymore.” Indeed.
And dude, let’s not forget that he’s short. And has inferior genes due to his depressos/addiction/small nostrils. And he’s in PETA. OMG, and AA! I can’t roll with a guy who can’t hold his booze! It’s so not hawt.
It’s amazing how clear this shit becomes when you get older, wiser, and find a brilliant, hilarious, and fanfuckingtastic man, ain't it?
What’s funny is that ten years ago, I would have likely punched myself in the uterus in an effort to abort any hypothetical fetuses that might have been growing there to clear the way to bear Reznor’s child. And had you told me that I’d ever think otherwise, I would have laughed in your face and been a huge asshole about it. Lol, cuz I’ve always been such a nice person and all.
So, I guess Trent is still technically on My Freebie List, but seriously, do you know how many skanks he’s put the naughty on over the years? I think Ronald put it best when he said, “I bet his girlfriend has to fuck him up the ass with a strap-on to get him off because there’s so much shit growing on his dick, he can’t get it up anymore.” Indeed.
And dude, let’s not forget that he’s short. And has inferior genes due to his depressos/addiction/small nostrils. And he’s in PETA. OMG, and AA! I can’t roll with a guy who can’t hold his booze! It’s so not hawt.
It’s amazing how clear this shit becomes when you get older, wiser, and find a brilliant, hilarious, and fanfuckingtastic man, ain't it?
Meso Old!
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Why is it that every time someone gets engaged I kind of want to barf in their mouth a little? Most of it is the expectant look people give you after their announcement, like they’re waiting for you to justify your own engagement status. Part of it, even after all this time, is just the weirdness of someone getting MARRIED. Especially when it’s someone you used to get so drunk with that you once physically restrained them from beating some bitch over the head with a phone. Ahh, memories!
Embarrassingly not that long ago, I would run away from married people like they had Ebola because I totally thought they underwent a marriage metamorphosis where they suddenly sucked balls and blew you off for hubby all the time. It took my best friend from college getting hitched for me to realize that you’re still YOU when you get married. But that’s a revelation of an extremely stupid and slutty single person, if that tell you anything.
These days, I’m just excited that some of my married bitches are having adorable babies for me to play with, then promptly hand back when they give me a Hot Carl. Whoot!
Embarrassingly not that long ago, I would run away from married people like they had Ebola because I totally thought they underwent a marriage metamorphosis where they suddenly sucked balls and blew you off for hubby all the time. It took my best friend from college getting hitched for me to realize that you’re still YOU when you get married. But that’s a revelation of an extremely stupid and slutty single person, if that tell you anything.
These days, I’m just excited that some of my married bitches are having adorable babies for me to play with, then promptly hand back when they give me a Hot Carl. Whoot!
Caffeine Conspiracy
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Dood I swear the waiter dumped a 5 Hour Energy drink or three in my pop at lunch because I’m about to blast off here from the caffeine. I’m like full on chair dancing at my desk to Pitbull. Maybe vibrating in my chair is a more accurate description of what nastiness is going on up in here.
Shit, bitch, I don’t even know where I was going with this except that I’ve clearly had an accidental overdose and need to flee across the street to the titty bar and make some cash doing this then get some fricking ice cream. You know, because the pervy ice cream truck driver pulls up every day, twice a day, to the aptly named Bazooka’s back door *insert juvenile snicker here* and the strippers run out to buy popsicles. And I do mean run. They don’t just walk out like normal humans and get a fucking ice cream; they hop-run in slow motion in their little outfits and ankle-breaking heels and teeter around handing money to the dude. I know this because watch it take place from my fatty window cube which overlooks the back of their building.
Downtown pwns!
Shit, bitch, I don’t even know where I was going with this except that I’ve clearly had an accidental overdose and need to flee across the street to the titty bar and make some cash doing this then get some fricking ice cream. You know, because the pervy ice cream truck driver pulls up every day, twice a day, to the aptly named Bazooka’s back door *insert juvenile snicker here* and the strippers run out to buy popsicles. And I do mean run. They don’t just walk out like normal humans and get a fucking ice cream; they hop-run in slow motion in their little outfits and ankle-breaking heels and teeter around handing money to the dude. I know this because watch it take place from my fatty window cube which overlooks the back of their building.
Downtown pwns!
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