RIP: Dreams of glamorous adulthood in an urban setting
I woke up this morning, makeup on and teeth unbrushed, feeling the effects of a pitcher and a half deep within my body. I felt like such a champ for representing my trashy Irish heritage on St Patty's day, until I realized I totally came home at like, 11 because I am old and can no longer stay up.
On the floor next to my bed, myriad ants swarmed a crumpled Jumbo Jack wrapper, slipping and sliding as they navigated the paper's greasy peaks. A group came together long enough to lift a piece of curly fry, but the directionless team quickly imploded and the fry toppled to the ground. Maxi cowered.
I checked my email to find a FWD: from my mom touting the benefits of eHarmony, and a "thanks but no thanks" response letting me know I am apparently not cute enough to stand around at Sounders games and try to get people to sample a product. Not even Mariners or Seahawks games, SOUNDERS games. Clearly, am hideous.
Killed all the ants with one fell swoop.
RIP: Last shred of hope for the existence of any indication of male decency in the world
"Pretty much every guy knows that big girls are the best to sleep with, because they know they have to work hard to keep you."
-young, Hobbitish man at bar last night.
No comments:
Post a Comment