i'm wearing a fat moo moo today. bc i might as well be pregnant.

gosh darn fatness. god i hate it. hate it all. i want to die.

okay so now i can't see my bones and i have a pouch where my stomach is and i have to try on fucking bridesmaids dresses. not only do i have to put on a dress that will be hideous and have a number on it, it will be for a wedding. for the love of god, why do people have weddings and make others endure the horrors of taking out time and money and sanity for the fucking special day. they can take that day and shove it up their asses. fuck tafetta and david's bridal bullshit.

looks like getting out more gives me more stories to tell.

so when a child runs up to you while you're sitting at the cafe doing a paper and asks, "so when a mom has a baby where does the baby come from?" learn from the savvy psychology student and reply with, "i think that's a question you should ask your mother."

when parents ask you if you have children because theirs flock to your cafe table, don't respond in disgust and say, "Oh no. no no. no. i have a dog."

crash-karaoke-singing on stage with douchebags is good. having it dvd-ed by the bar is bad.

99 red balloons. bad song.

having weird men grope at your ass while singing, bad.

shaking your ass to 99 red balloons and knocking a glass over with your ass is awesome. having that dvd-ed is less awesome.

gay guys telling you you're beautiful. hands down best thing.

hot gay guys better than hot straight guys.