“MAYBE IT’S NOT MY WEEKEND, BUT IT’S GONNA BE MY YEAR” I scream at 12 am with tears streaming down my face and a bottle of champagne in my hand. it has not been my year yet. it’s not even a weekend today is Thursday
reasons that i was going 9 mph over the speed limit today: the lumberjack in the big red chevy truck behind me on this double-lined road was in a hurry and also was using a slightly more powerful bluetooth radio to play his music, but he was using the same frequency that i use, and he was just playing Party In The Usa onrepeat, so every time he caught up to me my music started fading out and “i pUT MY HANDS UP THEY’RE PLAYIN MY SONG” started blaring from my speakers and i was justly running for my fucking life
WHY AM I LAUGHING SO HARD I JUST KEEP PICTURING SOME POOR SOUL SWEATING AND STARING AT THIS TRUCK IN THEIR REAR VIS MIRROR WITH PARTY IN THE USA PLAYING IS THIS A SCENE FROM AN ACTION MOVIE
when my dad moved away from home he needed a place to live, so he went to look at this one potential apartment. the only questions the landlady asked him were where he was born and when. when my dad told him, the landlady pulled out this huuuge astrology chart book. she looked at it for a long time in silence and finally said, “acceptable”
Hi brain, you obstinate fucker. I drank the clear splashy stuff. I ate the green things. I went under that bright fucker up there. I did the thing with the moving and sweating and whatnot. Now make the happy chemical, you lump of fuck.
did you do the thing with lying unconscious for 8 hours
