Sometimes I like to lay in the bathtub, and pretend to be New Orleans.

Well, at precisely 2:48 on this aesthetically depressing Kansas afternoon, I find myself staring at this fucking laptop wondering why witty things just don’t say themselves (I mean, honestly, how witty are you), and hoping that last night’s Rumplemintz will stop molesting my esophagus. With that being said, I’m in a super offensive mood, and I find nothing more productive to do when said mood strikes, than to exercise my way with words. Unfortunately, I didn’t take my Adderall today, so instead of a well thought out and organized series of paragraphs about various subjects of importance, you get the opportunity scroll through a brief list of my twisted subthoughts:

 

RANT: I thoroughly enjoy when a male in the 20-25 age takes to texting/Twitter/Facebook to express the way he feels. And by thoroughly enjoy, I clearly mean, I would rather get a colonoscopy than look at my phone and see that your imbecile ass has sent me another sequel to the creepy 3am nuggets you’ve been circulating about how much you miss me and we should start fresh. What are you, on your period?

Shit. That was kinda gay.

Why am I watching Let’s Make A Deal? And why is this ginger winning a trip to Thailand? Why do they even let gingers on this show? I don’t know if I’d even be excited. There’s a lot of child sex trafficking in Thailand.

My mom would be pretty elated to find that I took a taxi last night, rather than play the all time classic game of  ‘I’ll show you my ribs if you let me go home’.

I want a boob job: but instead of silicone, I would like my breast baggies filled with jingle bells.

I think I am the only person on the planet that thinks this ‘Gangnam Style’ revolution is perhaps the dumbest thing I have been forced to lay my eyes upon, since Demi Lovato, that is.

Ellen Degeneres makes me wonder whether or not I’m actually a “heterosexual”. Vaginas are so gross though. Maybe not.

I was supposed to buy shoes today. But all I did was wake up, throw up, retrieve my car, talk to myself and sit outside Buffalo Wild Wings for 16 minutes, debating an internally conflicted social experiment.

I’ve been thinking about adding ‘never been to rehab’ and ‘never gotten a DUI’ to my resume. My mom thinks it’s “bad form”. What does she know?

97% of students currently enrolled in cosmetology school are admitted whores.

Todd Akin makes me want to bomb the entire state of Missouri. (Is it illegal to talk about bombing an entire state?) (I mean, they should know I’m exceptionally unfamiliar with any kind of weapon, let alone an explosive) (And I have neither the steady hand or the knowledge of technology to pull off that kind of a mission) But in all seriousness, I would go to jail for Todd Akin.

If you cannot point to Korea on a map, go make friends with a foot of bath water. Face first. Obvi.

What does blog even mean?

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