Ruminations
I hate when I'm dodging a friend's call and I inadvertently hit 'ignore' instead of just silencing it. Dammit, fingers! Know your role! Now I have to text some bullshit reason along with an estimated callback time to prove I'm not a shitty friend.
2 
If I ask the source of the crazy political "news" you just spent 20 minutes ranting about, and you say an email forward, you've completely slaughtered your credibility... and I'm wishing your voting rights had disappeared along with it.
Some people call it "unemployed". I prefer "government-funded sabbatical".
I wish riding in the car was as fun as my dog makes it out to be.
Some people say rear wheel drive in the winter sucks. I say it keeps life interesting. Surprise 180? Yes, please!
The only thing more irritating than realizing "Fireflies" has been playing on the radio and I haven't changed it yet is every lyric in that song.
If I call one of my friends an asshole, I probably mean he's hilarious in a slightly-condescending-to-others kind of way. If I call one of your friends an asshole, I probably mean your friend is a total douchebag. Seriously.
I can't be positive, but I'm pretty sure Jay Leno looks like the man in the moon.
'Semen-based recipes' is choice #2 for Google's autocomplete suggestions when 'semen' is typed in. No worries, ladies - if you don't get your fill after that blow job, you can always make a batch of ejaculate eggnog. 'Tis the season, after all.
If I give you a cheerful "have a nice day" and you respond by grunting "uh huh", then you are a shithead, and I no longer care whether you have a nice day.
If I have something in my teeth, just fucking tell me. At the very least, give me a little signal. There will never be a time that I'd rather you not.
My dad says, "Maybe it's time for you to start looking for your future husband." Sorry, dad, but I'm perfectly content looking for someone to avoid eye contact with tomorrow morning.
Figuring out that your phone number has a word in it, and then using that word when giving out your phone number (ex. 241-TRAY), does not make you clever. It only ensures that no girl will be calling your number.
I hate when I want to ignore somebody and they don't give me the opportunity to do so.
If something falls in the gap between my wall and my bed, it can count on staying there until next time I rearrange my room... or move. No way in hell am I sticking my hand down there.
I hate when people ask me "How do you know?" or "Where'd you learn that?" The answer is always Google, buddy.
The best English class ever was the one where we learned about dangling participles.
When traveling, my sister and I pick our flights based on whether we can book seats in an exit row. We figure these seats have the most potential to make us national heroes in the event of an emergency.
I just saw a billboard with a huge "Colonoscopy or Cancer" plastered across it. So basically, options include either bending over and taking it, or risking a way bigger pain in the ass somewhere down the line. That's symbolism if I've ever seen it.
How many freaking versions of Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours" are they going to release?! We get it, dude!
Success will ultimately be determined by how often I can save the day by calling one of my "guys" >> Matt Jr. got locked up in Tanzania? I better call my guy. You need a dancing cobra? I totally have a snake guy. Person with the most guys wins life.
There are times I still feel like a little kid playing dress up in my mom's clothes when I'm suited up for work.
I don't know how to go down stairs any way other than full speed ahead.
If guys can get a "happy ending" massage, I like to think the female equivalent would be called the "double rub" massage.
Some look their best when out at night. I look my best when I visit my dad, solely to avoid the disapproving "you're never going to find a man to love you looking like that" look I get when I show up in sweats with crazy hair and last night's makeup.
I like that the new Britney Spears song is blatantly about threesomes, and this radio station has decided to edit out the word "sin" from the chorus. Seriously? "We're good with the whole orgy thing, but dammit we will not stand for living in sin!"
If I had to choose between one million dollars or never seeing another spider/house centipede for as long as I live, I would have to seriously consider both options. I think it'd come down to whether the million is gross or net of taxes.
I'm so glad people don't bare their teeth at one another when they're mad like dogs do. That shit would freak me out.
I hate when the peacefulness that accompanies waking up from a good night's sleep without an alarm clock is shattered by the sheer panic that comes from knowing I don't ever wake up on time without an alarm clock.
Driving by the little "Adult" boutique on my way home gets me feeling frisky. Driving by an Adult Superstore off the highway in the middle of nowhere makes me want to shower.
I hate it when I'm driving a long stretch of highway and none of other cars on the road take the initiative to go 90 so that I can follow them.
I'll say to my friends with relationship problems that "if it's meant to be, it'll work out", but no way do I actually subscribe to that idealistic bullshit.
Each day, I try to make as many people smile as I can. Yesterday, my stiletto found itself a hole, and I completely bit it on the sidewalk along a busy street downtown. In a suit. Pretty sure I met my quota for the week.
Today, a friend and I were deciding between taking a trip this weekend or waiting until the following weekend. I ultimately left it up to her to decide because she has a husband to coordinate with, whereas I have only a plant. Awesome.
I wish the 8am-6pm part of each weekday went by as quickly as the 8pm-6am part seems to.
The second after you trip, when you don't know if you'll catch yourself or bust your ass, is filled with far more angst than any other second. Same goes for the second after that, except with immense relief or utter embarrassment.
I've never been as turned off by fast food as I was when I drove by a sign encouraging people to try a new "Fried Bologna Biscuit" today. Thanks, Hardees, but not if it was the last biscuit in the world.
When I find myself in a position where I am forced to reevaluate my life, all I end up thinking about is how completely hammered I need to get that night. My career is in no way suited for my skill set? Fuck. Pass the fucking whiskey, please.
If we knew each other in college, yet never became friends, then ending up in the same city post-graduation does not mean we’re gonna start hanging out now. I changed my location, not my standards. Sorry, bud.
Does anyone actually sing in the shower? I’ve tried it. I was alone, yet still mortified by the result. But in the car with the stereo cranked up so I can’t hear myself? I'm hitting every note, and sometimes better than the artist. I just know it.
Even if mullets ever come back in style, I will still feel the need to point out every one I see.
Oh, fake pocket on my pants, what purpose do you serve other than pissing me off every time I try to put something in you?
I never understood the saying "fly by the seat of your pants". I mean, don't get me wrong, I wish. But it still doesn't make sense.
One of my favorite feelings is when I wish for something aloud, and then it coincidentally happens to appear. Oh hey, look at me, controlling the universe like a badass.
I know there's nothing under my bed, but you won't find me sleeping with any part of my arms or legs hanging off the bed when I sleep. You go ahead. I'm not taking any chances.
The Miss America pageant should shake things up and throw in an impromptu “No Makeup” round this year. Surprise, bitches! The reaction footage would be a primetime event in itself.
The real reason I haven't thrown away all of my class notes from college is because I can't bear parting with the outstanding doodles accompanying them. I know I'll never use the information, but that shit is art.
Sometimes you just know there's a direct correlation between the height of a girl's heels and how badly she wants to get laid. And by sometimes, I mean anytime after 10pm.
If my surroundings ever break out into an impromptu musical, you bet your ass I'll be joining in.
I can't think of many things that sound worse than breaking my teeth on a concrete sidewalk.
I blame feminists everywhere for tricking me into my aspirations of becoming some high-powered career woman. Two years working as a professional has me aspiring for somebody to make me a housewife more than any promotion I could get.
If I didn't want you to look at my chest, then I wouldn't have worn this low-cut halter top. I don't go to the bars to show off my intelligence, so reassurance that I've got a great rack is always welcome.
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