I don’t tolerate elitist, uninformed, narrow-minded, fact-repellent-wearing republicans. I shoot them, point-blank, repeatedly in the chest using my fact-sponge of a brain that pumps 68 caliber words, splattering orange-red paint across their shoulders and chest. They lower their chin and watch the paint collide with their body as this humiliating event renders them victim to my blatant message… and when they lift their heads after I’m through, the void in which their chin once hung creates an indentation, transforming the paint across their chests into a shape curiously similar to that of a heart. Oh, the irony…
First of all, I need to go to the doctor, and everyone needs to bug me until I get to the doctor. I’ve been procrastinating it for over a year and I still have a very irregular, almost non-existent period and it’s just not normal or healthy. I need to get to the doctor on my own. I understand that for me, taking care of myself in certain ways like this will mark my maturity. So i’m going to do it… but just incase I don’t… make sure that I do within the next month. OK–so that clears that.
On a similar note, I found this word and I like it:
Enough about that.
I’m going to San Francisco tomorrow evening for my girls’ B-day partaaaay! CAN’T WAIT! I have to be careful, my alcohol tolerance is dangerously low lately. Which cannot result in/have anything even remotely to do with the word con·cu·pis·cent, tomorrow night or ever.
Ps–I love McKenna!