Tart Me Up

Oh, look -- there are my feelings.

Thanks, office vending machine!

‪#‎ThisIsWhyYoureFat‬ ‪#‎AndWhyYouHaveADDProbably‬

Eat a dick, dude. But make sure you dip it in this first.

A friend sent this to me, and I'm sharing it here as a public service for all y'all concerned your condiments aren't masculine enough.

Problem solved, people: Manly. Sausage. Meat. "STUFFED FULL OF MEAT," even. ("Engorged" with meat. "Swollen. Turgid." "Tumescent?")

Hell, just dip your dick directly into it.

That said? That shit sounds DELICIOUS. Too bad I can't eat it -- curse my troublesome vagina.

Also, blow me, sour cream is my spirit animal. But again, vagina. Woe. I'm just not MANLY enough to hang with this new concocktion, so I'm relegated to bitch-baby sour cream.

Pretzel party in my pants?

Looking at a map, I just realized Friday night's family graduation party for my cousin is at a party hall right next to one of my favorite bars.

Clearly this is a sign that after the party I should toddle my fancy-dress ass on over there and get me some townie strange.

If that plan fails, the bar also has bangin' cheesy pretzels, so the situation looks to be a win either way.

P.M.S. P.S.

The P.S. on an email to friends about all my special feeeeelings:

"I'm also menstruating, so kindly accept this grain of salt. Just a grain, though -- I'll bite your goddamn hand off if you take my salt."

I bet eating a dick wouldn't make me feel sluggish.

Me: "Google! Which foods can make one feel sluggish and puffy?"
Google: "Every food that brings you joy."

*sigh*

Eat a dick, Google.

Buzzed Buzzkilling/The Margarita Mystification

Ah, the annual conundrum of the office Cinco de Mayo party: not loving the racism, but REALLY loving the nachos. #ConscientiousGuacamole

The Landmark Case of Penis v. Doughnut

Texting with a friend in California:

Friend: "The guy who owns the doughnut shop by my house looks a bit like Shaun T."
Me: "Right, then. So I'll hop a plane out there first thing tomorrow?"
Friend: "He sells Fruity Pebbles doughnut, too."
Me: "What?! SHIT. I need that in my face. (I'll leave it up to you whether I'm referring to the man or the doughnut. I haven't quite decided myself.)"
Friend: "Both?"
Me: "I think it'd have to be, yeah. Man first, though -- I'm gluttonous, not stupid."
Friend: "You could try the infamous Cosmo suggestion of a doughnut on a penis."
Me: "I was thinking that, but didn't want to be weird."

I'm all about supporting small, local businesses any way I can, you guys.

Mommy's Special Dinner

Gin & waffles for dinner at 9 p.m. 

One of many reasons I can't be trusted to have children.

Musical Masochism

I've heard this song a bunch of times since That Guy "made it like it never happened and that we were nothing," and I was perfectly fine. But it just came up on my Pandora playlist and suddenly I'm a weepy bitch over it?

Li'l early for PMS, isn't it, Body? Though I suppose that would explain the recent irritability, exhaustion, insatiable libido, and mass consumption of salty, cheesy Mexican food with Girl-Scout-cookie chasers. 

This is all fine. (It actually is. It's out of my hands. There's literally nothing I can do except "breathe and reboot." Plus I think I've proven I'm stronger than Weepy Bitch, even if on occasion she IS the one who knocks.)

Just what Christmas needs: Another bloated bastard snarfing cookies.

Um, no, YOU'RE getting your period for Christmas. 

(See also: Fuck you, body.) 

  

Eat Fresh Out of Fucks

*slow clap*

I am done giving even one underage fuck about this asshole.

#TeamQuiznos

#NoWaitQuiznosIsAlsoGross

#ButAtLeastItsNotMolesty

#StatutorySandwiches

#SorryImDoneNow

Today can eat a dick, and some ice cream.

It's been a bad day, so I figured I'd just help the body dysmorphia along... 

  

Flashing for fries.

It is ass hot and 6000% humid, so obviously work clothes need to come off as soon as I walk in the house. But I had just taken off my bra when I realized that if I want dinner, I have to have it delivered. I prefer to have a bra on if I'm human-facing, but I'm not putting that damn thing back on, leading to this actual thing I just said to myself out loud: "Fuck it. Deal with my breasts, delivery guy."

Think I could get the fries for free? I like to pretend I'm better than that, but...I'm exhausted and hungry, so I'm really not.