Sometimes when I’m at work and upset about something, the setting and the mood combine and I will be holding back tears, desperate to just cry, Notebook style, in my bed.
Then when I finally get off my shift and have to opportunity to really let loose, I’d rather just dance around my living room or some stupid shit.
I can’t decide what I would better off doing tonight.
The fact that my costume and biology will leave me virtually un-fuckable this weekend, and that my ex inexplicably thought I would appreciate a text message informing me that he wouldn’t be drinking with me before Friday’s festivities because he might be having his new (“not”) girlfriend over has left me in one foul fucking mood.
Seriously, in what world is informing someone, anyone, that you’ll be missing their event for an event that doesn’t even exist yet supposed to be helpful? Does “I was just trying to be nice” translate to “I was just reminding you that you’re being replaced?”
You’ve successfully “imposed on my Halloweekend,” if you’re wondering.
I’ve just discovered a weird quality that all the boys I ever like like share; the tendency to give emphasis to something by psuedo-singing it in falsetto.
So which childhood crush is responsible for this pattern? For once, I am skeptical of Jeff Goldblum’s involvement.
M1: “I wish I was masturbating right now. I’m so bored it’s painful.”
M2: “I could masturbate if I wanted. Like in a fitting room.”
M1: “I can’t leave reception. If I could I would masturbate, pee, and grab more beer. In that order. Instead I’ll have to settle for listening to the Smiths and filing my nails.”
“But yes, he gains his power as a super villain from playing girls. And don’t think I didn’t already know that. It’s still fucking annoying.”
“My vagina is not inconclusive!”
“Nav told me last night that she once convinced a bartender to give me a shot of coke but tell me it was a bear fucker. I was so drunk I didn’t know the difference. All I said was ‘that was smooth!’”
“I slept with another dude who works for his parents. And was at the Andrew W.K. concert two years ago. Christ, do I ever have a type.”