Thursday, August 30, 2012

I am aging.


And in celebration of this aging process, I think I will take a tip from this sexy mo fo and

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

That sounds appetizing.

A little while ago, I was typing "pop tarts" into a search bar of a website.

Don't ask.

For some reason, no results on this particular website weren't coming up. I was wrought with frustration and anger, knowing that the link I needed was somewhere nearby, but without a clue as to why it had hidden its cheeky little face.

After roughly five minutes, I happened to glance up at the search bar where I typed originally.

Turns out that one simple typo had prevented me from finding what I desired so strongly.


In my over-excitement, I had typed "poop tarts."


The ten year old inside me giggled for a good ten minutes. Oh how mature I am indeed.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

I have a question.

Its a simple question, really.


In what world is it normal to tell someone that you just want to be friends, that there are "no hard feelings," that you "won't bother [them] anymore"; Claiming that "it just doesn't seem like its worth it to you, I don't want to waste my time."

This inevitably turns into an hours long argument and the other individual involved comes to the conclusion that you both just have very different personalities and different paces at life, relationships, and WHATEVER else you do, and chill out.

And roughly twenty four hours later, you invite that exact same person you just had this extremely bitter, resentful, guilt-filled exchange with, and you invite them.....

and this isn't even a joke, kids...

You invite that individual to take a trip to MOTHERTRUCKING PARIS with you.

As in France.
The country with the snails and shiz.

I DON'T GET IT.


PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES PROFANITIES



Oh. And if you hadn't gathered it by now, the answer was a resounding "I don't think so."


All hypothetically speaking, of course.



Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to hire somebody to punch me in the face and kick me in the groin for the next few months, seeing as that is starting to sound like a better idea than having one of these conversations ever again.