I have two things to say. Firstly: I don’t remember what the first thing was. Secondably, I am a little bit drunk.
As I have been know to say before, someone put gin in my grapefruit juice. I don’t know how this happens (I do), but every three weeks or so, my morning wake-me-up has alcohol in it. Why? How? Who knows? (I do.)
I actually never drink grapefruit juice, because I don’t like it. It’s bitter and pink, like a grandparent who’s moved to Florida, and we all know no one likes old folks. Or grapefruit juice. And that’s the point.
This would be a good time to point out that the first time I tried to spell “gin,” I wrote “finger.” I guess that means I’m a fast typer. A fast, bad typer. Fast, bad and drunk. I think that should be the title of my autobiography.
Oh, I think the first thing (back to the first sentence, ignoranuses), was something about how I said Brandy hated to swear and then she said the “fuck-word” in a comment (for shame, Brandy!) and also about how allthewine got mad and jealous that I wrote a post about Brandy (I did?) and not her (I didn’t). Meanwhile, Lil is ignoring me, despite the alleged fact that she had a crush on me once (never gonna forget that one), except for very gracious responses to my corrections of her sports-related posts, which I reply to drunk. That’s kind of an inside joke, huh.
Let me explain. Actually, never mind. Suffice it to say that the ladies seated around me are laughing at me right now and I think they have a pool going as to whether I will cough or burp next. I’m guessing cough.
Yes! I was right. Even though I sorta fake-coughed it, and burped a little at the end. Aaaaand I just saw money changing hands. I guess I was right – they are literally betting on my physical condition. I don’t know whether to be flattered or depressed. I guess, like Jane Austen says, “when in doubt, be flattered.”
Ok, she just said “oh! Sounds like it’s breaking up though.” Talking about my chest-phlegm. Why are these people in the office? Wait, why am I in the office? I ought to be on the beach, drinking beers and trying to hook up with someone.
Waaaaait a minute! I remember what the first thing was. (first and fourth paragraphs, retard.) It was about how a bunch of people read and commented on my last post. What? Why? I felt like I was at a grungy club, just hanging out with the people I knew, then all of a sudden people start grinding up on you from every side, and at first you think “gypsies! Whoah, is my wallet safe?” and then you think “what if I was getting interrogated and the police guy said ‘where on the doll did you touch her’ and I would just have to rub the doll all over like I was giving the poor thing a full-body massage,” and then you think “oh this is bad,” and then “hey, this ain’t bad!” But eventually you realize it’s neither good nor bad. It’s just a bunch of people rubbing up against your blog.
See what I did there?
Yeah, me neither.
Credit to rs27 for the style of this post (is he just drunk all the time? is that his little indian secret?) and to Chris because he just kicks ass and I don't know how else to mix him in - I always make friends when I'm drunk, what can I say?
I'm off to Michigan for a week, so you peeps take care. I'll see you in August.