Sing-Talking

Rebecca Black has inspired me; I have been sing-talking my every move for the past two days. "Getting up, feel like ass; shouldn't have drank, just smoke grass. Wake up next to my big black friend; her weave is jacked; she'll never get a man." People have been so supportive with my new creative outlet. "I swear to god if you sing-talk one more fucking time, I will take this fork and jab it in your goddamn eye." The people love me.


I'm terrorizing Charleston, SC tomorrow and Friday. I decided to try a tame, classy spring break destination, but I'll most likely end up passed out in a ditch with my panties showing and used condom stuck to my forehead. Shit happens.

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Sharing

I'm sharing this with you all, because obviously I hate you.

I should probably put WARNING: VIEWING THIS VIDEO WILL CAUSE HOMICIDAL RAGE, BLEEDING FROM THE EARS, AND MISANTHROPY as the headline, but then I thought about it and decided, "Nah."

Generally, I steer away from insulting popular culture, because, unfortunately, my generation is largely a part of it. (And one of our characteristics is extreme, undeserving narcissism, and it makes me immensely uncomfortable to test my superb egotism.) But what in the fuck is this shit? It's like my 9-year-old cousin sing-talking her fucking diary to me as I try to get my drink on while I babysit her. It's just sad and annoying, and I'm praying that it will be over soon so I can get fucked up and pass out on the recliner to Golden Girls. Who in the fuck produced this shit, and why are they not hiding in a cave with Bin Laden somewhere? That's embarrassing dude or dudette. You created this shitspectacle for all the world to see; you let this little girl think that 1) she has talent and 2) that this is a fucking song.

Dear Media, I let you thrust Ke$ha down my throat because I can ignore her annoying-ass, auto-tuned voice and listen to the beat when I'm blitzed. I let you sexualize a lesbian-looking, jail-bait Biebs as he dry humps his way around a stage, and sings about buying fucking blow-pop rings for bitches. But this... come on; my already retarded, useless mind can't handle this crap.

Who the fuck is MosDef? And why did I not know this motherfucker was highlarious?

They Poisoned Me! Be Careful!

One of my friends scored a big-girl job in Alaska, and I wanted to celebrate the fact that I actually knew someone that was not on their 7th year of school or working at Olive Garden. So, I bought some champagne to toast to her accomplishment (of dying in the wilderness where no one fucking lives). Then another friend met up with us, and I added whisky to the bubbly. Did I mention this was a Tuesday night? And I had three classes the following day? Oh, yeah.

The next day, I went to my first class armed with a mug of water and sunglasses. We were peer-editing one another's papers, and as I was attempting to edit a paper on global warming, the words began to bleed together. I put my head between my legs and sat there for five minutes, just chilling. Once the waves of nausea became gentle ripples, I wrote in the margins of the paper, "I'm sorry, but I'm fucking dying. From the three words I could decipher through this hangover, it looks alright. It's not making me vomit if that's any consolation... hardy-har :)." I scooted the paper over to the chick, got up, and went to the bathroom.

During the next class, my incredible will power failed me. I was staring blankly at my computer screen, willing the hours to pass by (for the love of GOD!), when the familiar feeling of wanting to up-chuck came over me. I tried to fight it; I really did. But soon my mouth was overflowing with saliva, and I knew that I had a limited time span before shit was going to get real. So I stood up, knocked my chair over, and walked with purpose towards the door. The professor stopped her lecture and asked, "Where are you going?" With a panicked look in my eye, I simply raised my index finger to indicate, "Bitch, give me a fucking minute." I made it outside of the classroom door and proceeded to projectile vomit all in the trash can in the hallway. It was clear, and fast, and came out at an alarming speed like a fire hose extinguishing a rampant fire. After I was done cleansing myself of toxins, I looked up and noticed that a girl was sitting outside waiting on her next class.

"Dear God!" exclaims the stranger.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and give her the once over.
"They poisoned me! Be careful." I say, and then turn back into my classroom to finish the class.

Lessons learned from this experience:

1. DO NOT mix alcohol. I've known this since middle school, when I thought it would be cute to drink my friend's parent's wine, tequila, and vodka, and then roll around in their yard at 5 in the morning. The next day, I rolled my head in their toilet until about 5 p.m. when my mom picked me up and continuously asked me if I wanted some runny eggs until I went to bed that night. I don't know why, at 21 years old, I still think it's cute to get shithoused drunk off a mixture of different alcohol, because now I FEEL how fucking old I am; I've lost my youthful resilience, and I do not recover at 5 p.m. anymore, I recover two days later like a bitch.
2. DO NOT chug water, no matter how dehydrated you are the next day. Because you will projectile vomit an impressive amount a short time later. Again, knew this bit of information beforehand, but still like to test my limits.
3. When you do something extremely embarrassing and someone is there to witness it, just exclaim the first thing that pops in your head. Bonus points if it's completely random and slightly weird. That girl was probably so confused and bewildered that she probably questioned everyone's motives for the rest of the day. "Who's they? And why did they try to poison that girl? Will they do that to me? Why did she say be careful?" See, I switched it up so the girl is worried about herself (aren't we all) and isn't telling people about the hungover piece of shit, that can't control her alcohol intake, barf blasting in a trash can outside her classroom.