- me: I feel fat from last night
- w/the pizza incident
- Jessamin: i wish i was super lifted
- me: come over
- Jessamin: that’s ridic
- me: you’re ridic
- Jessamin: i’m totes chattng w/ you in a weekly meeting
- me: hahahahaa
- Jessamin: i mean i’m in a meeting
- me: great job
- no I get it Jessmina
- Jesmmina Louise
- how are things?
- me: I SAID HOW THE FUCK ARE THINGS
- Jessamin: fuck you angela i’m trying to chat surreptitiously
- me: o. k then. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
- hey I’m gonna go to the kitchen and start breaking plates now, brb
- Jessamin: ok
- there are 4 peeps here and they can all totes see i’m on gmail, chatting
- howtf can you eat a whole pizza
- me: like they say in Miami don’t stop get it get it
- I don’t know what happened to me
- I EVEN CALLED THEM AND MADE THEM COME BACK AND BRING ME MORE GARLIC BUTTER SAUCE
- Jessamin: i think you might inspire me to go back to school
- me: dude
- pls don’t.
- I am soooo fucking mis with that shit
- and we’re gonna be steady bitching with each other
- and the PPL
- the fucking PPL
- we have had many a convo about this, when one of his been in and the other out, and vice versa, but why are you considering it cause I fucking hate my life
- Jessamin: haha
- me:
- Jessamin: thanks for talking me off the ledge
- me: I luv you is why I say this
- get the FUCK off that damn ledge
- <3
- me: I’m going to get laid tonight, Jessamin.
Hope you’re doing well and that business is booming.
May I ask you something?
Why is LL Cool J on my tv screen? AGAIN? We have been through this. Please fire somebody immediately.
<3,
Ang
One really shouldn’t. It may cause one to make cunty-faced decisions.
Same goes for you males. Don’t think with someone else’s cunt. It’s a slippery slope.
Yeah, I’m about to drop an egg, can you tell? You’re lucky to not be around me, for those of you who don’t have to physically be around me . For the rest of you: sorries!
P.S. I’m going to the beach Fri-Sun, but I’ll be in my special “women’s” condition…..DO YOU THINK I WLL ATTRACT SHARKS?? I’m going to ‘pon it up, of course, but still….HA doesn’t want to get eaten this week. :(
There is no cure for embarrassment. Only avoidance. Or alcohol.
The single most embarrassing event I can think of? Passing a pouf in public. Cutting the cheese in Calcutta. The two worst-possible-evar-scenarios:
1) Audibly breaking wind in a group, and it very obviously came from YOU
2) Silently dropping a gnarly egg-bomb, and it’s just you and one other
Clearly, there are two options:
1) Acknowledge it: Make a joke, gracefully apologize, say “Whoops!” and quickly change the subject
2) DO NOT ACKNOWLEDGE
I really don’t know what’s best. I think dying is pretty much the only feasible option.
When is the last/worst time this happened to you? OR ARE YOU NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING. You can change your name if you want. I’ll wait at least a week before I out you. :D I know the heaviness of the situation; it’s even worse than when my woman’s blood spotted on the butt of my jeans in junior high.
EDIT: Pussy farts are now included, since overnight you commenters have grown a modesty gene or something (blaming it on Queen Mother, Rev. Twatkin?)
Scene: EXT. WALGREEN’S PARKING LOT. DAY.
Halfassitude walks toward the entrance and notices that an annoying little lady has set up an annoying little table out front.
LADY: Hello, have you heard of the D.A.R.E. program?!!!?! 
?
HALFASSITUDE: Yes. Yes I have.
LADY: Would you like to take a moment to look at all this shit on my table and buy something to help?
HALFASSITUDE: No thanks. I like drugs.
LADY: 
—————————————
So I proceed to do my shoppings, all the while LOL’ing in my head, until I realize that I have to cross paths with Lady again on the way out. I smiled at her; she looked at me. Then her phone rang with some hip-hop ringtone and it was over.
~fin~
Oh, and D.A.R.E.?
1999 called. It wants its web design back.
That, my peeps, is what this clam-flavored beer tastes like. Real talk. I know I said I would make a vid of myself drinking it, but I honestly can’t get beyond one sip and you’ll just have to take my written word for it.
I don’t know this poor human male, but that’s what one looks like while tasting a delicate blend of sweat and menstrual blood.
That also happens to be the lyrics to one my favorite songs — THX, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone
Filed under: Jesus Christ, The Lord, don't, mental, oh fuck, scotch, teaching, what a dick, working
Dudes. You know how I like to drop out of the PhD program every year? WELL, I QUIT AGAIN TODAY (via an epic-ass email sent at 3pm.)
My boss’s response: ”I understand your frustration and anxiety. I used to feel that way, too. Let’s meet tomorrow and I’ll give you some tips/lessons I’ve learned on how to deal with stress.”
Jigga WHAAAAt??
He clearly is in denial or only read 1/8th of my email. I picture him looking at it with one eye closed, pointer fingers in his ears, and screaming “LA LA LA LA LA! I CAN’T HEEEAR YOOOOU!!!” Did I mention that the email was epic, and listed all of the reasons why I want to quit, as in QUIT, the program?
@L$H%@$#gw^. So now I get to have “Awkward Conversation of the Year” at 4:30pm tomorrow. At least my Friday presentation for work is now canceled (high-five, guys!)
Wish me luck. I have no idea if I’ll get snake-charmed into staying in the program that makes me hate my life and all living things. LE FUCKING SIGH.
