Hello, bitches. If I see one more Sunday Funday instagram picture I am going to lose it. Boohoo the weekend is over. Mondays are fucking amazing for two reasons in particular A. It is the day I always allege I am going to start my “2014 health plan” (I should mention this *health plan doesn’t include any form of exercise regimen and only means attempting to not have carbs for every meal of the day #fitness – also, this health plan was supposed to start in 2010 and has yet to be completed) and b. TELEVISION OF THE GODS: THE BACHELORETTE, RHOC, LADIES OF LONDON. It is all too much.
I literally told my mom last week “If Ladies of London doesn’t get a Season 2 I am going to kill myself in front of the whole family.” Andy Cohen, please take that threat seriously… I have so much more life to live and don’t envision myself kicking the bucket before 30 wrapped in a British flag, singing the Ladies of London theme song with a Caroline Stanbury inspired platinum bob – but I will fucking do it. For those of you who have no clue what I am talking about I suggest you do yourself a favor and hit up your DVR stat. After being lured out of my cage and forced to be weekendy social I always start off my week seriously irritated…
Juicy Fruit – What a sad excuse for a gum. Firstly, it loses flavor quicker then the person chewing it loses their dignity and second it tastes like ass, plaster and stale fruit juice. And yes, I realize juice doesn’t go STALE so fuck off vocab police. I also find this is the gum selection of under-achievers and that is a truth you need to deal with. This gum is targeted for the person who doesn’t aspire to minty fresh breath and also doesn’t mind being taken advantage of due to its disappointing taste longevity. Think about it.
Crudités – For those of you living under a rock or engaging in sexual relations with a first cousin – Crudités is an incredibly pretentious word for a veggie platter. I would like to make it clear that anything sold in a plastic tray at fucking 7-11 does not merit a silent “s” or this fancy of a name. I was at a very distant friend of a friend’s house last week when the host kindly offered up some “Crudités” and a huge part of my already nonexistent soul started to die. REALLY?!? Stop. Please.
Pet Birds – I consider myself an animal lover if you excuse birds, reptiles, sharks and most sea mammals out of the equation. Listen, I have been very vocal about my distaste for cats. Many of my best friends love them and Taylor Swift is probably fucking one as we speak. One thing I do appreciate about those assholes is that they eat birds and for that I will be forever grateful. I can say with full confidence if I met Ryan Gosling and he took me home to his gorgeous piece of real estate and I spotted a pet bird I would run for the fucking hills. It takes a real weirdo to select a BIRD as your pet of choice. It’s equivalent to having a pet rat and I just can’t associate with people who think it’s okay. Unless you can advance my career in any way … which in the case I totally love pet birds.
@MileyCyrus – Listen I am guilty for being totally into this twerking train wreck that is Miley Cyrus. Her vakakta front teeth, creepy as shit dad, and her little dykey haircut. I get it – she’s a “genius” (why does everyone say that?) I realize she is laughing and probably air humping all the way to the bank. COOL. Last night I unfollowed Miley on Instagram and truly have never felt more liberated in my life. If I had to see one more picture of her ravey and weird as fuck arts and crafts projects I was literally going to lose my mind.