May 2012
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Today, as I was sitting on my couch, crying watching Frasier and being forced to hear to the couple living above me fuck, I was reminded…
It’s the little things in life that matter most—except little dicks. Those matter least of all.
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If you know how to read--this is for you.... →
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Okay, fine. I think the drummer is a total dreamboat, okay?
In a I-bet-he-loves-burritos-as-much-as-I-do kinda way, you know?
I have this shit on repeat 4 days out of the week (and my sister wants to kill me because of it).
But you know—whatever!
These dudes are fuckin’ rad. And so is this song.
I’m gonna be real honest here and just say I don’t really wanna hold...
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A piece: of useless friendship
Me: Matttttttt I don't feel well. Can you just hit me with your mini van please?
Matt: Monica. No.
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Translating my vocabulary:
Cool = Sounds like bullshit
I like him = Please kill me
She’s pretty = She really is pretty
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A piece: of margaritas
Matt: They were like, three shots a piece!
Me: I can't believe you almost had me question my margarita making skills. Now I know you only want one shot in your drink and not three like me and everyone else with a soul and the spirit of Guadalupe inside them.
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A piece: of my mother after church
Bexx: I miss you. I can’t wait for you to come home so I can have someone to drink with.
Bexx: I can’t wait to come and booze up your place.
Bexx: Your dad and I are bored so we are going to Esther’s to eat, but I’m not hungry so I’m just gonna get a margarita. I feel like drinking.
Bexx: Are you a drinker?
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