Thursday, February 10, 2011

Math, Celebrations, and Intelligence

I'm not a math magician, so don't tell me that I'm wrong when I say I'm 105% sure of something. I give 100% percent. Yeah, you're body can only handle 100%, but frankly my dear I don't give a fuck. Don't make this in to rocket surgery; it's just how my brain processes things.

Today was one of those days. I had an emo moment on the phone because it almost seemed like there were measures being taken to exclude me in certain festivities. I know I'm a girl, but that doesn't give someone the right to pass me off to someone I don't know that well so they can have a "guys night out". Whatever. I guess it's going to be me and a bottle of nasty Mescal to celebrate this shit on my own. I like me. We get along alright. Sure, we have our disagreements, but that's nothing out of the ordinary even if we have known each other our whole lives.

Why do people feel the need to write like the lolz katz and in IM/text lingo on a dating site profile? Seriously. Your first impression is what's written on that stupid thing, and you chalk yourself up as a total idiot. I like my guys and gals smart as whips, thank you very much.

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