Once I went bra shopping, and the bra shopping fancy lady helper used the terms teets and bosoms when referring to my LadyBosomTeets. She was foreignish sounding but THAT IS NO EXCUSE.
I was 21 years old and perky to the point that if I tell you what size bra I wore you might go back in time just to stab me in the face. TEETS THEY WERE NOT.
I have a terminal inability to hide when someone makes me feel dead inside.
It's like OH MAN I HATE YOU AND YOU SUCK THE JOY OUT OF LIVING AND WHY DO YOU HAVE A HEAD?
And then I feel all guilty cuz homeboy is like, DUDE I THINK GRACE HATES ME, and I'm like OH WHAT ME? NO I DON'T! NOT YOU! I LOOOOOOOOVE YOU.
Then I feel all assholey and make an extra point to be nice to someone who makes me want to punch them in the throat.*
*People whom I legitimately DON'T hate who at one point THOUGHT I DID? Please don't take that the wrong way?
It has been an unseasonably cold summer.
I wore a wool coat yesterday.
Hey! So! My birthday's in three weeks? I'm taking a massive test on the 4th so I want to do something amazing and fun that night.
So let's do that.
If we're going to be friends, you have to be fun, or nice, or both.
But you can't be neither.
People who aren't fun OR nice don't get to ride the ride.
I can't really be bothered with the fact that I'm not nice and I'm usually not fun either.
I have my standards, and I don't care one fig about doubling them.
Move it along now!
I smoked like.....some cigarettes in New York. That's not a particularly big deal because I don't have a smoking PROBLEM, but! I smoke when I drink with my friends who smoke, and my friends in California mostly don't so then I forget that I have this weird drunk smoking habit.
Until I start doing it again.
And then oh yeah that.
I figure if I smoke half a pack of cigarettes a year, it's not the biggest vice in the world.
I mean, it's nothing compared to my raging narcissistic voyeurism.