Man, Listen

Michigan State fans are the absolute worst. You’re free to debate me on this but I’m right and because of this, you’ll lose so there’s really no point in wasting your breath.

Gobble, Fuckin’, Gobble…Bitch.

There’re fifteen minutes left in Thanksgiving and I’m already sick of leftovers.
I’m too tired (see: lazy) to come up with an actual post about why I’m thankful for today being over, so…yeah. Happy Thanksgiving and all that jazz, folks.

So, Um…Yeah.

By now you’re well aware of my annoyingly pathetic “So, there’s this guy…” story, so I thankfully don’t have to go into too many details. Which is good. I don’t feel like having to rehash them and I’m pretty sure nobody wants to read any of that simp shit.
Which, I suppose, could also be considered bad. For me, that is, not you.
What I plan to do next will probably earn me the title of Queen of all Simps. You might want to crack open a bottle of wine, stream Drake’s—aka: King Simp— new album and light a few candles before turning off the lights and hitting the jump. Remember, I warned you.

So Typical

Tomorrow will arguably be one of the bigger days of my life, but instead of getting some much needed and well deserved sleep, guess what I’m doing?

Well Shit, Muhfucka, Gotdamn.

I am absolutely terrible when it comes to keeping up with…well, anything, really.

Addendum

I almost forgot.

0230-0235

I’m trying to be my usual, angrily ranting, self but my head and my heart aren’t in it. Which sucks. I love going back and rereading my angry rants. They make me giggle because I find myself to be hilarious.

But not now.
I’m probably going to kick myself for this, smh.

Let Me Just Say…

You irritate the fuck outta me. Actually, since I’m being honest? You make me wanna choke the shit outta you. Twice. Once because you’re so much better than this but you act like you don’t know that and again because this—what you’re doin’ right now—ain’t it.
But you knew that already.

Free-Write: 0150-0235

This is  an ungodly hour made for booty calls, fuckery and debauchery yet here I am, wide awake and doing none of the above. Not that, y’know, I’d be making a booty call or anything like that. The only piece of ass I’m thinkin’ about tappin’ lives a bazillion and four miles away from me, besides all that, I’m not that type of girl and I digress.
I was probably going to neglect this blog for another week or so while I wrote up a couple of posts for the original (Infamous) Life, but seeing as I’m up with nothing to do but search the interwebnets for porn, I’ve decided to be semi-productive and do a quick free-writing exercise.
Woot, whoo-hoo and yay.
Lawd knows what I’m about to say, so, if you’re up to it, hit the jump for more.

Aspire un pene, pendejo

I’m gonna be honest, I have anger issues. I get annoyed with things and people quite easily and, when left unchecked, my annoyance can easily turn to violence.
I’ve been known to throw shoes, books, tantrums and the odd small electrical appliance and I’ve traded blows with guys and gals alike ^[1] but there is only one person who inspires me to commit targeted acts of public emasculation. That person, who’s lucky I’ve made a habit out of talking to Jesus at least twice a day every day, is Small Dick O’Jackassface.^[2] Each and every freakin’ time this fool crosses my line of sight, I get a really bad taste in my mouth and honestly?
I just want to falcon punch him in the dick.