Normally we provide y’all with Wednesday Randoms to help you get over that hump but since this is the Year of Not Our Problem, you’re getting it on Friday. Plus also, I’m marrying Jesus so there is no such thing as Hump Day anymore. Sorry, Charles!
Mail Be Gone! There are many routine tasks I avoid at all costs. Laundry, talking on the phone and paying bills all come to mind. For some reason checking my mail has also been added to the list. Personally I see no need to check it more than once a week or so. It’s all bills and stuff I don’t care about so why deal with that every day when I can do it just once a week? Admittedly the side effect of this is that it does make my mailman’s job harder, but honestly that’s his problem. At first he would just passively aggressively toss the extra mail on the steps. Yesterday he stepped up his A game and went so far as to leave me a PUBLIC NOTE ON THE MAILBOX requesting me to, “Please clean out my box.” The irony of my note was not lost on me and new found oath of celibacy. Sorry, Mr. Mailman. No can do. Put that Val-Pak on the steps, I’m not checking shit!
No entry! You like how I just slipped that in there? (No pun intended!) Ladies, no need to watch your mens because this girl is not interested. I’m tired of the less fair sex so I’m donezo for an undetermined about of time. Boys are gross and I can’t be so bothered. I’m going to be my own girlfriend and I’ll be the best gf ever! I’m going to call me when I say I will, always be interested in how my day was and make the sexy whenever I want to. Whoot!
Playlists! Each season requires its own playlist and creating said playlist is a task not to be taken lightly. The first rule of creating a playlist is to fill that mofo up with some pretty obscure shit, thus giving yourself street cred for having a badass taste in music. Then, when no one is looking, slip one (1) Top 40 gem in there. Before you know it you have yourself a little bit of a musical situation and your guests will all “Oh shit, TLW! This song is rad!” and then you’re all, “Right? Everyone else thinks so, too. You just danced to Shakira, bitch!” A little bit of them will die inside. It’s a good time, trust.