Hey. Hi. How are ya?
Good. I’m happy. I sucked down a bunch of coffee and I’m wearing a men’s tank top because fuck the establishment. I’m not really sure what that means because I had a meatball sub yesterday instead of going to the gym because that’s all that matters.
Am I crazy? I don’t know, do pigs not have 401Ks? I think the proof is in the partridge in a pear tree.
But back to my tank top. It’s of outer space, which I’m feeling resentful of, but it has kittens riding slices of pizza. Nothing has ever felt so right.
Still with me? Good. Enjoy that beef ravioli.
Until next time, chapstick lovers!