No Pants. No Problem.
I saw this t-shirt recently that read “I hate people and pants.” I had mixed emotions about it. At first I laughed. Then I put a lot of thought into it. Why would anyone want to promote hating people? The pants part I understand. Some days I hate pants too.
But people? This entire world is filled with them!
So many different kinds of people. A part of me wanted to stand by that t-shirt all day, just to see who would purchase it. I have a million questions for that consumer.
“As a person... how could you possibly hate people?”
"Who the fuck have you been hanging out with?"
The Tortured Artist
Why do most artists have to be tortured?
Why does the fact that I like drawing stuff have to come hand in hand with being emo? Im turning 30 next month, and I’m so over this sad shit. After 30 years shouldn’t we be allowed to hit the reset button on the butt load of memories we don’t really fucking need? I want a room where I get to sort through all of it. With two bins. Like that bad egg good egg machine at Willy Wonkas.
Unnecessary gets the boot.
Outdated gets the boot.
Irrelevant ... boot!
And all the other stuff that leaves a smile on my face and warm fuzzies in my solar plexus can stay. Become BFF with those skeletons. Ya know?
Mom Of The Year
Gossiping in public is the equivalent to pissing with the door open.
You tell yourself “whatever.” But deep inside you’re thinking “fuck, I really hope no one sees me.”
It’s so uncomfortable to sit beside two chicks who are two caramel macchiatos in, all sugar’d up with stories galore about “Fiona and her fat friend Fay.”
Aren’t you seeing them tonight?
Then there’s the moms that sit and spill about their kids current puberty “mishaps.”
Lady, imagine someone was sitting in a Starbucks yapping to her friend about all the times you masturbated and had “mishaps.”
You were around in the 70’s...who you kidding?
You wanna run me over with your car.
But don’t almost hit me and ignore me because your too scared to face my reaction.
You almost ended my life for a Tim Hortons.
You should at least have the decency to look me in the face.
He Popped The Question
He just asked me “If you were stranded on an island, what three things would you bring?” If I’m bringing shit, how could I possibly believe I was stranded. It would seem to me that I put myself there and brought three things. Call it what it is. You don’t pack anything if your stranded. Rephrase the question.
So, if I were aware that I was going to be stranded on an island and was allotted the time to go home and grab three items to bring with...
- a first aid kit
- my cat
- a razor. I don’t know how long I’m stranded there for and I don’t want to get all furry.
Or do you know the length of time I’ll be stranded for? You must know that. How can you not know that, but know I’m going to be stranded, I can bring three things and that I have the time to go get those three things?
What a fucking stupid question.
There’s a fine line between pants and stockings.
The line being your ass. If I can see your ass crack through your “pants", you're wearing tights.
I know the look your going for.
It’s a cool look.
But dear God girl go put some real pants on. One inch thicker and you’re good to go. The minute I can’t see your beauty marked butt cheek, you’re all set. Put an end to the ...rear view.
One of my hallucinations used to be that my face was swelling up all the time, and that I couldn’t breathe. It was one of the scarier ones. It used to freak the fucking shit out of me. I laugh it off now when I try to think of what the actual face I was making looked like. Couldn’t have been too attractive.
I don't understand why there must be an even amount of people when playing Charades. Just because you put four people on one team and four people on another...doesn't mean there's been a fair distribution of 'smart'