Funny Girls in Tight Jeans

17 01 2012

From time to time on this blog I like to post old email conversations between my pal M and I. We’re the funniest people we know. We are often hungover and spend a lot of time talking about cheese. Here goes.

J: What is wrong with me? I was home from the bar by 1 a.m. but am so so tired. It’s like I danced to Beyonce until 6 a.m. instead of actually just eating a bunch of brie in my underpants. In bed.

M: Oh man I’m sooooo tired again today!  I also go home at a reasonable time but my roommate is away for a few days so I left my door open for the cat. But she spent most of the night walking on my face or meowing and then walking on my face. Wow, I am SO impressed that you stuck to one beer!  At Ronnie’s no less – that is actually some sort of miracle.  Like making out with a unicorn and then it calling you the next day.

J: I need coffee. There’s a beautiful boy who works at my Starbucks (I say ‘my’ only because I’ve fallen asleep while waiting for a latte so I feel some sort of ownership with both the location and the random banker who kindly let me rest my head in his lap while he took photos of me with his iPhone), and he was all about my cappuccino until I went in with my 21-year-old summer student and suddenly it was ‘goodbye chubby pale chick and hello stunning 6 foot tall supermodel fetus girl’. Typical. Your cat sounds like my ex-boyfriend. Boom. I once woke up to a friend’s cat trying to stick its entire face down my throat. Umm…hello FORWARD MUCH? At least buy me a drink first. Unicorns rarely call the next day, but they do send chocolate. I’m having a rough day at work. HR is thisclose to sending me a refresher etiquette email.

M: Picture G and I outside of the Starbucks on College and Dovercourt. I am currently wearing ripped faded jeans for painting a house and am on breakfast sandwich number two. I say: “Ohhhh, I’ll date him- I don’t even care if he’s 17!” Yeah, I don’t care, you just stand there in your little shirt and tie and get dated. And I’m still waiting for my chocolate. Damn classless unicorn. My day has gone from normal to uuuuuuhhhhhhggggggggggg *pulls hair*. Cut to me drinking gin in the shower. Good grief it looks like I’m wearing red eyeliner today.

J: I look like the human equivalent of botulism.

M: Remember when we were carefree?

J: I’m the cow. You’re the gay shark.

M: I actually laughed out loud. Earlier I debated going to have a quick cry in the bathroom but I was listening to Jay Sean and I was like “No, that’s too pathetic”. Ummmmmmm, and then I google-imaged “stress” and I saw this picture:

And the first thing I noticed was “oh, she’s married?” I’m going to go for a long cry. I guess? I’m the gay shark.  I’m going to teach my young that life has no set path but that which you choose. And then we will eat the purple fish.








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