eat a sandwich. shut up about the famous people you think you look like (you don’t). no one gives a shit about your megabus, your poo-loving, trainwreck of a “friend” antikris, your mediocre photography or your painful and desperate IM correspondence with whatever freakshows you are meeting on Match/OKCupid/Nerve. every time i see you out, you’re wearing some ridiculous too-tight getup and you’re drunk as fuck. maybe if you spent less time bitching about “marrieds” and complaining about who you consider hipsters, you’d actually get laid. haven’t you quit this blog, like, fifteen times? why don’t you quit for fucking real. oh, and PS - you don’t own BSG.
