After patio Corona’s and pitchers of sangria with my main Russian import @BalovnevaA, we started a blog, which is sure to be a deemed a literary classic in years to come (blogs are literature, ok). The blog is titled Beer and Clothing, which is a spin on the ever-so-awesome Fear and Loathing. We haven’t produced our first post yet, because we decided that we were too intoxicated to actually write anything that wouldn’t have been F-bombs and inappropriate sexual innuendos (come to think of it, that is exactly what our blog will be comprised of). We also started a Twitter account because what is a blog with nothing written in it, without a Twitter account with nothing written in it?! I promise that there will be gold there eventually, so you might as well start following now
to give my ego a boost instead of jumping on the bandwagon later @BeernClothing.
After a tough day of creating the world’s simplest blog on WordPress and not writing anything in it, we decided that we earned ourselves some ice cold beer from my favourite pub on College street (I also got Pad Thai because I am an endless pit when I am drinking). On the way to the pub, I was walking down my rape alley, texting someone about something and instead of going around the giant window that was open, I decided that trying to walk through it would be a better option. This is the second time in less than a week that I have banged my head off of something. I am like the Sidney Crosby of, I dunno, basically just existing in everyday life.
The fact that I am a bit of a mess kind of goes without saying. Yesterday, my friend had to tell me to stop peeling off the skin from my sunburn in public. I blame my OCD. I just can’t look at dead skin and leave it there to incessantly mock me. It kind of looks like a strain of flesh eating disease has taken up residency on my arm. Ok, I am being dramatic with what it looks like, but it is getting in the way of really revealing the nice tan that is underneath (and by tan I mean that you can officially tell the difference between Casper and myself).
I also think that I am to blame for the Leafs horrible loss the other night (being a Habs fan though, I lost little to no sleep over it). I was out at a pub (I feel like I say that A LOT) watching the game and things were getting pretty rowdy. As everyone knows, the Leafs had a 3 goal advantage and the fans (which I am not one of) were getting pretty excited/cocky. I wanted to capture some of the momentum via a quick video on my phone and that’s when Boston scored the first of their next consecutive 4 goals that would defeat Toronto. I jinxed the Leafs. At the exact moment I attempted to show that team some resemblance of support, after almost 28 years of shunning (yes, even as an infant I knew how to hate a hockey team. Papa didn’t raise no fool) they were instantly scored on. Please see video evidence below.
My first piece on Red Lips Long Lashes only further demonstrates what a mess I truly am. My mom had two children by the time she was my age and I can barely motivate myself to go on a date… and there have even been a few guys that I am quasi interested in lately. I am also feeling semi-needy right now because I have a cold and it is currently kicking the shit out of me. At this point, I would pay someone to come and take care of me. I think when they say “feed a cold” they don’t mean with beer and sangria. I generally take advice and spin it in a way that is more advantageous to myself. Oh well, all part of my charm.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lung to finishing coughing up and some dead skin to peel off my arm…and I may even consider putting some pants on.