Just because you're only five and want to play Sorry! with Aunty Christ doesn't mean that you're not a selfish little bitch. What about my needs? Did you ever think about that? Because honestly, I've been drinking all day, and I either need to make myself another vodka tonic, or I need a vicodin and a bucket of chicken. Either way, you're shit out of luck, cutie
Sorry! It's not just a board game; it's a fact of life. Get used to it.
Now get the hell out of here.
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4 comments:
We can only be what we are. That is a natural truth. If them li'l bitches cain't seee, then we got our ownselves a problem.
I'm somehow failing to see why moving to a different spot on this particular website (excuse me: Portal) makes anything in the way of a difference, but y'know...Some people can't hyperlink to save their lives, and that's just that, y'know? It is, as I've often been told, what it is.
Good luck with the new townhome. You've earned it, girl! 20/20!
Oh, my boy, you have no idea how feeble are the minds that I'm trying to outsmart.
Also, I must say that there's nothing like that new-blog smell.
"It is what it is," eh? That's catchy. I'll have to say that repeatedly and for no reason from now on. Hey, my adult diaper is full! But, y'know, it is what it is. Which in this case is full and smelly.
Smelly breakfast? No, no. Now I've gone too far.
You should put up your own picture. It's not like he is going to read through every page on the net looking for red haired wimmins to seduce while disguised as a plushy toy. Well, I mean he's gonna try but that isn't going to work too well....
Are you blind, man? My picture is up! And while I'm at it, may I suggest that any swarthy Mediterranean men who are interested in tapioca, holding hands, "Matlock" reruns, and anal should drop me a line at auntychrist@gmail.com. Thanks.
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