I’m at Amy’s. And by “Amy” I mean the guy I’m having casual sex with two-four times a week.
I don’t know where your jacket went. I took it to school with me, got drunk, spilled red wine all over it and now it’s in a ball in the back of my closet because I really don’t want to deal with it. Sorry.
I’m in class and my phone is on silent. I saw, silenced, and ignored your call. Also, what’s class?
Yeah, I’m taking care of myself. If eating enough queso to kill a dog and drinking enough alcohol to make an overweight, 40-year-old man pass out is taking care of myself, then yes. I’m taking very good care of myself.
We’re not dating. He’s just a friend. A friend who makes my toes curl and my condom stash disappear rapidly.
No. Really. He’s just a friend. No. Really. He’s not just a friend.
Can I use your credit card? It’s an emergency. Not realizing that the Semi-Annual sale was happening until it was already happening really is an emergency.
Last night? Oh I just hung out. Fell asleep early. Nothing crazy. I was drunk by 5 p.m. Stayed out until 2 a.m. Cried in public. Ate an entire pizza. Threw up the entire pizza (plus most of the vodka I drank). Texted my FWB. Hooked up with my FWB. Fell asleep still wearing my shoes. Woke up with a hangover, no pants, and no dignity. So, the usual.
That’s not mine. It’s totally mine.
Dad said it was fine. I haven’t asked dad, but I 100 percent know that he would not think this is fine.
No, I didn’t see your comment on my Facebook. Yes mom. I get a notification when you comment on my stuff. The whole world can see that you not only “liked” the post, but left a paragraph asking me if the boy in the picture was my boyfriend. P.S. He’s not.
Or grandma’s. I see everything.
And I really have no idea how they got deleted. Whoops.
I don’t know what my high school ex is up to. He’s here for the summer, just broke up with his girlfriend, got fifty-seven likes on his most recent Instagram post, texted me twice, came over to my apartment once, made me come three times, and just tweeted at Kanye. I mean, yeah. IDK.
Aspiring to be the next Tina Fey, Rachel spends her free time doing nothing to reach that goal. While judging people based on how they use "they're" vs. "there" on social media, she likes eating buffalo chicken dip, watching other people's Netflix, and wearing sweatpants way more than is socially acceptable.