As we approach the All-Star break, it occurs to me that I have WAY WAY WAY less pictures of adorable babies in Mets outfits than I should. WAY!
It’s almost like these parents are ashamed of their children’s new MLB team. #HMPPH
This trash can is too damn high.
Can I run for Mayor on the platform “MTA garbage cans need to be low enough for drunk women to vomit in them, but high enough to keep out the rats”?
I am newly unemployed and highly intoxicated, so we’ll mark this thought as “multi-tasking.”
Also, alcogol is evil. Dr. Who is awesome.
Excuse me…I think my train is…
Mustard is not a food group. Repeat. NOT.
Why is Pearatty SO MEEEAAAAANNNNNNNN??
You ever get the feeling you’re going the wrong way through a revolving door. To wit: you’re not moving while other people incessantly whack you in the face with a plexiglass door? That shit hurts, yo.
The only time I ever feel truly crazy is when I try to figure out what other people are thinking.
Or when I ask them.
Or when I don’t know.
*Puts the chain on the door*
*Slides a heavy desk in front*
*Exhales*
*Makes popcorn*
1. In the entirety of my life, I have only ever done whatsoever was easiest.
2. Settlers of Catan can bite me.
3. Stuff I’ve put horseradish mustard on in the last 24 hours:
a. Breadrolls
b. Turkey slices
c. Bell peppers
d. Bordeux cookie
e. Cheese
f. A spoon
4. I’m over DiFara’s pizza.
Pretty sure my last conscious thought before I die is going to be “whoops.”
So I realized that when I get text messages, I actually imagine the voice of sender as I read them. I realized this when I talked on the phone to someone I text with and was like “who the hell is this”?
I think the Jews have that whole immediate burial thing right. Today was the first day I felt half way back to normal and NOW I have a funeral to go to tomorrow. Social setting which cannot be handled with humor, sarcasm or shyly tweeting in the back of the room = No bueno for Dawn. They don’t make a Paxil powerful enough to handle this. Friday will be spent hiding in the back of my bedroom closet. And growing back the nails I’ve chewed off.