Friday, April 30, 2010

You Hit on Me Again

I was walking home last night down Sterling, and as I passed by you backing out your motorcycle, I quickly thought you looked like this guy. But I kept walking and jamming to The Drums. This big ass bright light crept up behind me, and it was you trailing next to me on the sidewalk on your motorcycle. I stopped and turned, IT.WAS.YOU. The guy who waved me down on 5th Ave several months ago to ask me if I'm in love and tell me how adorable I am (I KNOW). I almost yarfed. Then, you used the same exact pick-up, "you're lovely, you're adorable." (again, I KNOW). Ummmmmm, the best part? You didn't REMEMBER ME. 


holy.shit. Did that really just happen?


If you see this, I want a list of women you've hit on via motorcycle via rando streets via deutsche-talk. 

Monday, April 19, 2010

I Thought I Was Progressive

Until you came in the store and started milking your baby from your breasts, in the store, under a blanket thing, in the store, from your breasts, right in front of me, in the store. 


If you see this, thank you. I've finally mastered the thizz face.



Wednesday, April 14, 2010

You Do Things Too Fast

I ran my ass down to the post office the other day trying to make it there before it opened. But of course, even at 9:04, it was a mild clusterfuck in the post office that yelp reviewers wish they could assign negative ratings to. I got in line behind a woman picking her nose, and then you walked in. Oblivious to the line and clearly more important, you walked right up to the window of an employee and said the most unimaginable shit: "I mailed something this morning, and I want to make sure I addressed it correctly." The employee looked at you the way most of us looked at you, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING? And then you're reasoning behind it, which you repeated over and over again for what would be the next half hour was, "Sometimes, I just do things so fast." You do things so fast? YOU DO THINGS SO FAST?? If you have time to be at the post office at 9:10 on a Monday morning and wait until the post office employees sift through every piece of mail in their back room to make sure your measly little envelope is addressed correctly, then the turtle would clearly win in that race. Right when I was finished mailing my taxes, I saw a man through the glass hold up an envelope and then heard your voice next to me say, "that's right." Then, you left muttering anger towards the establishment. That was it, you didn't rewrite the address, you didn't even hold it in your hands. People don't get to complain about the service when they're the old coot of the morning. WE get to complain about YOU, that's why people go to the post office.


If you see this, HURRY UP.

Monday, April 5, 2010

To Chace "Gozzip Boy" Crawford

You went into Barneys New York the other day with your mum, and you had the pleasure of talking to my uncle (he works for one of the cosmetic lines) for awhile about an extremely worthy topic: ME. He told you I graduated with your sister, now professional dater of Tony Romo, and that we were all super jazzed that you were at our graduation ceremony. Then, y'all chatted about the unbelievable food in Missouri, and I think my uncle invited himself to hang out with you and your attractive/wealthy family. You told him you have a pad in New York when he said I live in Brooklyn. COME FIND ME BITCH. 




If you see this, congratulations on not wearing as much  makeup as Joe Jonas.