1:32a it has become nearly impossible to string a coherent sentence together. why is it that we always attempt to have intellectual conversations when we are physically incapable of doing so? you know what passes for witty discourse in my everyday life? “hey stranger at a party, do you ever feel like your deodorant has stopped working?” all i can talk about when i’m sober is hot dogs and teen mom but get three gins in me and all of a sudden i have opinions about intersectionality and internalized misogyny and academic imperialism. shut the fuck up, samantha.

Sam Irby, on the horrifying shit show that is going out. Her post perfectly sums up why I haven’t been out on a Saturday night in at least two years, and am currently posting this from bed at 9:00pm, about to tuck into a Margot Livesey novel and just loving all of my choices.

Bits welcome:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s