christen Doesn't care

Обо мне:

I made this cake... I am in a fury of overwork. I worry sometimes about the Rapture - I've always heard that's why you are supposed to wear clean undies everyday, but what if the Rapture comes on No Panties Wednesday? Will that piss God off enough that S/He'll leave your no-panty wearing ass here to suffer the indignities of pestilence and no cable and warm beer with the rest of the heathen non-believers? What if you were feeling a little sexy in the morning and the Rapture finds you sporting cherry red crotch-less edibles ? These are the kind of things I worry about. I still am very fond of breasts. I can stare at them for hours, until they get mad. I used to think I would die of a stroke, but now I am convinced I will die laughing while everyone else is laughing too. I try to get depressed because I hear it's better than dieting but my asshole friends won't let me. ..

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You Are Rum

You're the life of the party, at least in your own mind. Only the finest labels and best mixed cocktails will do. Hmmm. The 'whole bar scene'? There is, in fact, a "scene", as you say. It is an ugly scene that the wise would do well not to stare at directly, lest one become tainted by its unwholesome incestuous tangles of skankery and foul miasma of failed hipsters. They create quite a stink, you know. But I do not consider myself part of any "scene"; I am just a girl who likes a cold beverage every now and again, and am very high strung and nervous-like, so I have created for myself a couple of cozy havens where I might tipple in relative peace, secure in the knowledge that if any dirtbags were to try and ooze their schmooze all over me they would quickly be strongarmed by surly bartenders protecting their golden tip goose (namely, me.) Ha.