Last night my cramps crept up on me while I was enjoying a concert. NOT COOL, REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS, NOT. COOL. Then this morning they assaulted my life with the most horrible of lower abdomen and back pains imaginable. As if I shot their mother or something instead of just leaving an egg in there unfertilized. I think I understand now why that Duggar chick keeps having babies; labor seems like a party compared to cramps, and that's real talk for your ass!
So yeah, I'm in a grumpy mood on top of the stanktified levels of stank upon which I was already cruising, and am typing this from my bed. Fuck any and all things on my TO-DO list today. I have cramps. They hurt. I feel like shit. And I WANT MY GRANDMA!!!!!
Enter Jimmy Fallon and one of my favorite "life sucks" companions...
This book spits hot fiyah like:
If you were thinking of buying a car, remember there is a possibility that this could be your coffin.
When people say, "Thank you for you application. Your resume was extremely impressive," they really mean, "You didn't get the job, and I blew my nose in your resume."
People seem to enjoy saying, "Is the glass half-full or half-empty?" They stop smiling when I say, "It'll be empty when I pour it over your head."
Did you ever sit back and evaluate your life and think, "Boy, things are going just as I always wanted them to?" I didn't think so.
And my favorite pessimist's affirmation: Wherever I go, there I am, and I hate this place.
Aaaah, now my day is complete!
*smooches...wondering how I'd cope with life if I didn't have my books*
blech... perish the thought!