Taking my chances

I just got home from the most horrendous one hour commute. A commute that usually takes between 5 and 10 minutes. I know I should be at least a little sympathetic when there is an accident. But I’m not, mostly because I know someone was being a fucking dumbass. It only takes one monkey to ruin the party.

I tried listening to that old Snow Patrol album, the one that made too tan sorority girls think they liked alt music. There is like 4 minutes of quality on that album. So then I put on some Crystal Castles, which is a good time and all, but I can’t sing along to that shit. I knew what I needed and it’s disappointing because I am so fucking predictable. But I knew the only thing that would make wasting my gas bearable at a dead stop on the 1 (I know. Boo fucking hoo, right?) would be a smooth cocktail of my most sing alongable tracks. Dashboard and Fallout Boy to the rescue.

I got home and immediately tried to raid the kitchen because I find calories are the best way to deal with stress. But we have more alcohol than food so now I’m drunk on wine and have a few sunflower seeds in me. And I have gleeked on the screen like 14 times since starting this.

The Millionizer wants you to pass this on

Technorati Tags: drunkorexia, commuting, when you want to fuck but no one’s home and it doesn’t matter anyway because you’re on your period and you’re just not into that way