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So turns out, math was important in that I now use it to figure out the tips on my bar tabs.
Context is the name of the game.
Any standards I may say I have are jettisoned out the window at 88mph when I drink.
"If I had cared/been sober, I probs wouldn't have done it" - A personal memoir
At the gym and totally not fucking thinking about stuffing my face with McDonald's in bed.
Not sure how to say, "your haircut is terrible but I'd still like to have sex with you" in like a really romantic way.
The success of my day is based on how many attempts it takes me to get my arm through my cardigan.
I gain weight for this role I'm up for called, "Sad single likes to eat his feelings."
Hair in an egg roll? I have to act mortified and disgusted in front of the coworkers as I toss it out.
I still would have eaten it.
You can order a "vodka/pineapple" but not a "pineapple/vodka."
Seriously, the bartender will literally have no idea what you're saying.
I need someone funny to handle my social media accounts while I devote more time to more important work.
Like, I dunno, learning crochet?
I really should stop drinking on school nights.
Doesn't mean I plan to stop any time soon.
Dating status: wondering if we're close enough yet to say, "don't finger me unless you want to get sprayed in the face."
You're stuck in my head like a song I want to hear that's never going to be played again.
No matter the angle, you still look like an asshole.
*Tries to look cool while brushing muffin crumbs off the car seat.*
Shaky hands from all the boozing, yet shaky when not boozing.
This is my adulthood now.
An international man of mystery with a constant yearning to boogie down.