My Brain Hurts

Can I just say...kahwdogineaoribvgnd;gkl u bh9e8r75-ynb237utfc 30;q8n417&#*^%#*&TGIUGS:IOUYBP(&^95.

And also, FUCK.

Already, it's been a crazy week. A busy week. A depressing and hopeful and exciting and boring and fun and lame week all wrapped up into the same 7 days like god's trying to hurry the fuck up with all of his paperwork before he goes to Hedonism II for spring break.

There are so many decisions to make and options to weigh and choices to second guess, not just for myself but for some of my super special friends as well, and it's like we all went out for a drink after work but we can't for the life of us decide between the margarita or the iced tea, and don't even get us started on the happy hour appetizers: We'll be here all damn night.

This has been the appetizer sampler platter of weeks, ya'll: Some days I liked (boneless buffalo wings), other days were better for my friends (quesadillas), and the rest of the days were like the mozzarella sticks that I'm guaranteed to choke on every.single.time I eat them even though I always think to myself, DON'T CHOKE ON THE MOZZARELLA STICKS.

And then the server forgot my extra side of ranch.

But you know what? It's fucking HAPPY HOUR, motherfuckers. So bring me another round of those thimble-sized domestic drafts: Ima turn this bitch around. And then probably need Gray to drive me home.