my grandma’s decrepit dog

shit is so ugly i can’t stand to look at her. being of yorki and chihuahua, with a widely noticeable under bite, she makes a good case for world’s ugliest dog. she comes fully equipped with: periods of staring, which also include small whimpers and whining, the inability to get onto the couch by herself (selectively), mass tissue/trash massacres, the need to go outside every five minutes, and also a general hideousness that invokes a slight hatred. 

it was brought to my attention that i possess no pictures or obsessive love for the “cats” that have been my trademark name. i’m not even sure of the last time i genuinely smothered a cat against its will. not sure i really possess the desire to do so anymore. none of them sleep consistently with me, and i have a HEATER BLANKET. 

i am contemplating a name change for all of my blogs and other social media..things. since i am completely and unequivocally enamored with my pitbull, i feel that he has earned his rightful place in my name. 


1.) thisbitchandherdog – kinda boring, but the people that support the change have spewed it so here you go.

2.) thisbitchanderpit – this is my personal favourite, so obviously it wins. but i find myself asking myself “this bitch and what pit? pit of: despair, wild geese, vodka, etc.” i’m not sure it works. or that i should even stoop to a name change because people are stupid and want their ideas to be synonymous with my own. 

i put it to a vote. someone fucking respond. 


not having a working computer to blog on

guys i know why i haven’t been on here now. it’s because my mom played too many facebook games while she should have been cleaning (instead of bitching about how much cleaning there is to do in a house that she insisted my father move us into)((elaborate, i know, but you didn’t come here to read anything non elaborate)) and done got herself a virus and now that piece of shit pc can barely muster up enough courage to load the main screen. SO, seeing as iphones are fucking weak sucks when it comes to typing anything out or applying online for a job that will get you nowhere in life except stuck in a break room standing around a water dispenser type thing, i have not blogged. these sentences are fantastically long, i hope you’re keeping up. otherwise i might have to publicly shame you for being a moron. tumblr: making viral examples of idiots everywhere, for all time.

giving “how to draw on your eyebrows” lessons via text message is a hard fucking task to accomplish. i couldn’t even tell you the synopsis of a book without giving unnecessary details and/or spoiling the ending completely. how do you people (friends) expect me to teach you how to get marvelous fucking eyebrows like mine over the phone? picture references, come on. i have like 80 pictures solely dedicated to my rows. i swear to you, that is the only hashtag i ever use aside from “pooter” (my awesome pitbull).

i couldn’t get away from the heater this morning, now i’m freezing my fucking nads off.

i suppose there needs to be some sort of topic. who wants a topic? anyone? no? ok.

thinking about lighting the “summer rain” scented candle just to keep warm. not that it will help, but seeing fire makes you innately warmer, right? i put summer rain in quotations because the candle in question here may in fact smell like “spring rain” or “winter rain” or “that not so seasonal part of the year where it’s perfect all day then your sprinklers freeze over and now you have to call your dad or a plumber or whoever the fuck fixes sprinklers rain.”

i’ve got it. i should start a tangent list. like the hate list, but instead of limiting myself to a few key words, i should just blow the fuck up. i love myself sometimes, i come up with the best most negative things ever. as usual, i will take requests, and as usual NONE OF YOU WILL MOVE SOME ASS AND FUCKING SUGGEST SOMETHING. therefore, i shall prepare.

i’ll most likely be typing this out today since i have a working computer in front of me thank you JESUS. look forward to it, sniff the screen when it’s posted, bask in the glory of the tangent.

if i don’t post it because i forgot or got sucked into tumblr, be mad. it’s a perfectly natural emotion and cheeseburgers are good for you. smoke a cigarette to calm you down, because yoga is stupid. guys i hate this computer, it’s doing this fun thing where if i click to add a word or what have you, it just highlights the area and when i try to type in something new it just starts deleting letters from the following word. what the fuck is your fucking problem you fucking robot from hell. So there is a sentence that states “i have 80 pictures solely dedicated to my rows when REALLY what i was trying to fucking say was that “i have 80 pictures solely dedicated to my HASHTAG EYEBROWS.” but nevermind, i won’t have the sentence worded the way my little heart desired for fucks sake. have it your way you outdated home office computer.

i have another redbull. byeeeeeeee

warm cheese



you’re too kind.

be jealous, i won another virtual award and you get to read about it. again. 

you know i kinda like you, don’t go getting all butthurt on me. i’ve had enough of that today. that’s NOT a personal reference.

no time for a smooth transition into my acceptance speech (cause…..i have one).

apparently, i’m versatile. i would call it bitchy and perpetually irritated, but who’s judging?

someone is..

look behind you. look around your general vicinity. they’re judging youuuu 

maybe not your lameass personal blog, but most likely your choice of apparel and scent. possibly your lipstick that doesn’t match your blush too.  moving on. nominated me, cause she’s the tits pasties. i told her she was just the tits, now i wish i would have added the pasties. anyway. by the way, fucking LOVE her name. if you don’t think that’s fucking clever, then shoo yo ass on outta here, cause i don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. how do you tag people?


1. Display the Award Certificate on your blog. 


2. Announce your win with a post and thank the blogger who nominated you.


3. Present 15 deserving bloggers with the award. 

as my generous predecessor did, i think i’ll do 5. there are not 15 blogs on here that consistently (or ever) make me laugh more than my own. judge me.


4. Link your nominees in the post and let them know about their nomination with a comment. 

there’s got to be an easier way to do this. so much copying and pasting. sidenote: the order you appear in has nothing to do with anything. so take it. 


– who doesn’t want to see a whale house and irritated cats?


– i feel like we could talk about bowel movements, wine, and our various mental illnesses for the rest of time. 


– this dude. nuff said. he’s secretly my number one pick. 


– this is just a ploy to get their attention. START FUCKING BLOGGING AGAIN 


– i just found you. prepare for me to stalk you silently. 

5. Post 7 interesting things about yourself. 

if by interesting, you mean crude and slightly inappropriate, i am way ahead of you. 

ONE MOTHAFUCKA: i’ve recently been diagnosed (self) with allergies. when the fuck did i get allerigies?

TWO MOTHAFUCKA: i’m contemplating not letting my nominees know. if they love me like i love them, they’ll see it and get to be the tits whatever. 

THREE MOTHAFUCKA: i don’t have a care to make myself seem more interesting to you. 

FOUR MOTHAFUCKA: the offensive things i say are special made for whoever is reading it. so ya. 

FIVE MOTHAFUCKA: pretty sure my coccyx is out of whack. the part of my spine that’s basically what you would call in my ass, it hurts constantly.

SIX MOTHAFUCKA: my all white catholic high school dance team won the hip hop round in downey. for those of you not familiar with california, that’s the fuckin hood. 

SEVEN MOTHAFUCKA: i seriously pride myself on being an asshole. 

feta cheese when you’re drunk

no me gusta. 

what my real issue today is that i want to know who’s behind the decision making process that thinks it’s a good idea to hand kendell the keys to a camaro. WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE.

i might have died last night when she got excited about doing her first donuts. and i don’t mean making cutesy pinterest shit, i mean smelling the tires a lengthy period of time after the offense occurred. though i should point out that my ass also thought it would be a good idea to go 70 in a construction zone. it was at night calm your tits.

how i never get pulled over is beyond me.

apparently milk is the cause of my increasingly frequent anxiety attacks. personally, i think the cause is that i don’t have a prescription for xanax, but who’s pointing fingers. you know what ruffles my danders? and don’t sit there thinking “everything,” because i hate it when other people are right. when you tell someone you’d be very pleased if you could have medication for when you start crying and seeing absolute doom in your near future for no apparent reason, and their idiotic response is something along the lines of “they don’t happen that often, you’re fine.” fuck you very much. i’d love to see you try to quell the compulsion to huddle in a corner until the ‘i’m fucked in every sense of the word” wave passes. that’s always fun when you’re at work and trying to function like a normal fucking being seems like the farthest thing out of your reach.

let’s take it down a notch, to where shit’s funny, because even i’m getting annoyed with my own words. so what, i have an anxiety thing. i also have a fear of large fish.

i will never snorkel again. i have scars to prove just how horrific the experience was.


EPILOGUE: stephanie slips out of floaty tube and sinks to the deep end of pool at grandmas. daddy takes a little bit longer than i’d like to stop me from dying. stephanie is rescued. daddy puts her on step where she sputters and whimpers, having almost kicked the bucket at 5. after a few minutes, stephanie is still upset. parents tell her to, in a nutshell, suck it up because she’s still alive.

we’re not super close.

chapter one, and only.

hawaii, year twenty something. not sure what beach, even if i knew i could not spell it. location: satan’s drop off into the deep sea abyss. seasoned divers are impatient with the girl who sits at the edge holding everyone up who isn’t afraid of the watery black hole that is sure to swallow you; you will not come out of this one like gandalf, you will die. after a half hour of feet dangling and inner turmoil, she slowly eases into the water. in retrospect, she can’t really swim at all so how she stayed afloat is up to the gods. moving on. and we’re swimminggggg (don’t know howwww) there’s brightly coloured little fishies keeping their distance. she looks underneath for too long, and now her snorkeling tube is filled with water. sheer panic ensues and that whole swimming thing is shot to hell. the sputtering continues as she struggles to yank the plastic water mask death trap away from her face and hair that wasn’t properly secured. her family laughs. she’s very put out. they move on to shallow water, where if you’re standing up it’s up to your knees (given that you are of a generous height). slightly better on the front of “maybe we won’t get sucked into the sea’s asshole,” but the fish are not so familiar with personal space here. she calms herself and tries to imagine it’s all just a very realistic documentary on the discovery channel. father taps her shoulder, she turns….there’s a very large fish 2 inches from her face. absolute terror, panic. let’s be clear about the size of the death fish, and also its hideousness.



this was all up in my grill.

remember the depth, or lack thereof, of the water? frantic swimming, if that’s what you could call it, plus giant flippers and mask that can’t do its job right and keep the ocean out of my ocular cavities, turns out to be a disastrous combination. not only am i in a foot of water and using my hands to pull myself to shore, but i am also careless. i cut my arm on a rock. blood bubbles up and out into the water. now, on top of hoping the giant fish has left me alone, i am bleeding in the open water. two things can happen here: perhaps a pack of wild piranhas will spring up and start to eat me, or a shark will come for me. i’m going to die right here in front of all these tourists.

fine, i make it to shore, hair a mess and blood spilling onto the sand mind you. my mother asks me what the hell happened. i tell her my sordid tale, and she begins to laugh.

this is my family.  

getting personal on facebook

i’m just gonna go ahead right now and tell you all how stupid you are (my facebook people) because you don’t read it anyway. and if you do, chances are i don’t give a flying fuck if this upsets you. if jenna marbles can tell people how to suck less, i think i should dabble a bit in doing the same. i have a few key pointers i’d like to spell out real quick before i go into detail

1.) when your status is over 3 lines long, you just need to slow your roll, turn on your filter that lets you know what people couldn’t care less about, then shut the fuck up.

*you really think anyone is reading past line 2 when they figure out that you’re just ranting in the hopes that 30 people will like it and comment on it? pipe the fuck down.


2.) talking about your significant other or an ex EVERY SINGLE DAY is not ok. minimize your gooey hooha output to at the most once a month. 

*example: “i thought you loved me but i was wrong, i’ll never let you hurt me again.” and then you put a fucking SMILEY FACE like you’re not crying and eating all the taco bell. 

*example: every fucking day or other day, you feel the infernal need to tell us how awesome your man is. p.s. i did that today, but you just go ahead and look at the last time i got all mushy in complete excess. 

3.) pretending you’re on the debate team: facebook wasn’t created so you could get on your high horse and act like your completely unsolicited opinion is higher up on the social media food chain than anyone else’s.

*you know nothing about politics or the environment. quit acting like you’re in the situation room and wolf blitzer is mumbling something incoherent about the other side of the argument. you are stupid, and we all sense it.  

4.) when you’re soooo sick and miserable, but you have the energy to update us on your snot content and vomitting every fucking hour.

*no one in their right mind is going to bring your disgusting ass soup, so quit asking and using winky faces.

5.) when you’re perfectly healthy and could definitely get the fuck out of the house, and you post stupid shit every half hour 


6.) when you’re out and about, checking in at every corner and telling us how much fun you’re having. we get it, you spend your money frivolously 

*instead of sitting on your phone all damn day, turn that shit off and enjoy the food you’re eating instead of taking pictures of it and using a filter so it looks brighter

7.) posting shit that’s none of your fucking business. example: rip so and so who lived in my town once, but who i never even fucking saw; some person in my general vicinity is fighting for their life in the hospital, please pray for them, etc. 

*cause you’re so admirable, huh?

8.) announcing your deleting sprees and adding something like : if you’re still on here, then you can read this and you’re a swell character.

*come the fuck on. i hope that you delete me because you obviously are the type of person who feels better when they “cleanse” their social outlets. you are an idiot.

9.) when you tell us all that you’re “deleting” your facebook and that we can contact you on your cell phone.

*no shit. and by the way, zuckerberg is a fuckface for only letting us “deactivate” our accounts. like you’re actually doing something? you’re only going to reappear a week later and say “i’m backkkkkk :)” and then i’ll lose my shit because you can’t control yourself

10.) when there’s a major life event or crisis currently going on, and yet you still find the time to tell us everything about your day and how bad it sucked and how your grandpa isn’t doing so well.

*well duh, grandpa is probably over 80 and used to drink and smoke like he lived on the set of mad men. don’t get me wrong, i love my grandpa, but he’s mine and my facebook friends don’t need to know about him. so shut the fuck up for once.

11.) airing dirty laundry: this is my favourite out of all your pointless, stupid activities.

*example: my friend so and so ACTUALLY posted pictures of rude texts from her baby daddy’s girlfriend. you’re joking. you must be joking. and then said something along the lines of how dumb she is (ironic) then lol’ed it off like she didn’t just put the joke on herself.

FUCK. i’m starting to get really angry and my typing would give me an exemplary score on mavis beacon, so i’m gonna stop now before my acrylics get stuck in between the keys. i just might continue with this hate list, there’s just too many things that need to be said. 

stop stupid people. help us all. save us. 

corny pick up lines

                 did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

well, now that you mention it, it actually did hurt. i wound up fracturing my back and had to sue the gods for reckless behaviour, assault, and lost wages. so i made millions off the whole thing and now i just smoke a lot of medical marijuana to ease my pain. i mean, that shit hurts every day. you know, they don’t have weed in heaven? or whiskey? no, they just have wine. and it’s not even that good. it’s like that wine you see at trader joes and you get all curious about its healthy and organic origin, only to discover it’s just called “table wine.” you’d think that after, oh i don’t knowww, thousands of years, that jesus would get a little bored with the whole “i can turn water into wine” shit. he failed to mention that he can only make one type of wine, there are no variations. no pinot grigio or chardonnay. oh no, that would be too magical and show offy. you see, he doesn’t really like to roam far from the humble perspective that people cling to. i mean, he’s like jesus, you know? 

                               hey, i lost my number, could i have yours?

you know, you can totally have it. i keep getting these weird calls from some prison in texas asking me if i will accept a call from some inmate whose name is completely indiscernible on the recording, so i feel kinda bad rejecting someone when i don’t even know their name. wouldn’t you? and like it totally sucks knowing that they legitimately think that they’re calling their one and only (or maybe even a friend or some shit to relay drug cartel info to) when in reality, they’re calling me. maybe i should have like accepted the call, and then like had a heart to heart with this inmate. who knows, maybe i could have seriously helped the dude and talked him out of the gang and drug shit. 

for future reference boys, these do not work unless the girl is a complete dumbshit. but i just demonstrated what even a dumbshit’s response would be, so maybe you should reconsider what you’re really doing here.

ladies, these are my own original thoughts, i don’t expect anyone to fully understand why i would ever think these in the first place, but come on. you know “the face” that our dear jenna marbles taught us? and what to do when it doesn’t work? this is plan c. i highly recommend it, and i sincerely doubt that anyone looking to bone you or even start some shit would stick around after all that. 

god speed, i’ll see you at the bar. testing these puppies out. 

the sneaking hangover

oh my fucking god. 

when you wake up so damn tired that you’re completely unaware of any symptoms until they start creeping into your hangover peripheral. smoke a few morning cigarettes she said, it will be ok she said. buy the hangover rockstar in the yellow can, a redbull for later when your perk up, and bugles to get your stomach ready for the utter crap you’ll be feeding it later to soak up last night’s shame. take 2 tylenol and a massive poop.

it all started when i watched jenna marbles and she told me there’s a drinking game dedicated to her videos. example: drink every time she says fuck, sings to herself or her dogs, every time you see the turtle backpack, and when you hear the squeaky noise at the beginning of each video. well, i decided to make rules for schooners, which is a local gathering of everyone you graduated with and hate. but we go there anyway, cause you can smoke inside. schooners has it all when it comes to drunken stereotypes. so if you have a bar like this, get ready to get so hammered because my rules never let you put your drink down. i recommend a side of water, cause i didn’t have any. and since i’m not allowed in my boyfriend’s house, i went to the side to dig a hole to vomit in. see what i mean? last night’s shame.

drink every time you see:

1.) fat guys

2.) fat girls trying to be cute

3.) guys with awesome beards

4.) groups of lonely women 

5.) a bromance or a brosome; not excluding brodowns

6.) an older woman pretending she hasn’t hit the 35 mark

7.) the confused look on your waitress’s face

8.) a waitress getting hit on

9.) anyone wearing: volcom, no fear, rvca, obey, the “do work” shirts, etc.

10.) an imminent one night stand

11.) “woooooo!” people

12.) older guys who are all too happy to hit on the fat girls

13.) someone drinking a water

14.) underaged people pretending they’re seasoned smokers

15.) someone whipping out their smartphone to show their friends something that’s funnier when you’re shnackered 

take a shot:

1.) every time someone revs their muscle car or motorcycle excessively

2.) for a hot mess. and i don’t mean the delicious hamburger that jack in the box took away. you see that, you tackle the person eating it and take it for yourself.

3.) when you see a sad third wheel

4.) when 2 people who are blatantly plastered try to fight. i do mean try.

5.) when someone spills


go now.


being a woman

a comprehensive overview of the female anatomy and it’s mission to absolutely destroy and terrorize the female inhabitants of mother earth.

just kidding. scared you didn’t i? 




this is my life and i’ll thank you all to shut the fuck up.

it’s a glorious day when you find more than one beef chip in your chex mix. today is not that day. that day was tuesday. i had 7. let it be known that i am probably the only person on the planet to ever have stumbled upon so many of them in one, 100 calorie, space. 

i’m having a really hard time telling myself to get sunflower seeds and slim jims rather than taco bell. my inner fat child is going through it’s monthly crisis and demands payment. not that my inner honey booboo needs an excuse to never eat anything healthy on top of smoking and drinking too much. that wasn’t a self realization or anything. leave me alone with my soy beef and whiskey. i’m ok with it. at least i do ballet, and that shit’s hard. let me tell you, 2 hours with “miss heather, mistress of toe cramps and thigh burning,” and you’re toast. burnt toast. burnt toast that breaks when you lightly attempt to spread your butter on it. do you feel bad for me yet? one of my shoes is what i would call “broken.” in other words, the string came out and the only thing keeping it on my foot is a single elastic strap across the top of my foot. she has extras; meaning i get to rifle through a giant storage bin of used ballet shoes. with my bare hands. i wonder how long a foot fungus can survive in a sealed container. maybe i don’t want to know. this is what they didn’t cover in black swan.

spoiler alert: SHE DIES. for fucks sake, it’s kinda obvious. at least i thought it was. but all you tree hugging, tofu eating (i really like tofu, actually) downtown los angeles dwelling pieces of yahoo think it’s all ooooooooo and metaphorical and shit. get off your high horse, in your case being a liberal arts degree that will get you nowhere, and eat a cheeseburger. she dies. there’s a large shard of glass that pretty much ripped her shit open and you mean to ask me if she really did kill herself? that’s how i feel after most of my heather sessions. so yes, yes ladies and gentleman, she did. 

but what you really should be asking yourself is if she really banged mila kunis. ps: no one wears thigh high stockings with garters under their jeans. big mistake on the black swan wardrobe team, you lose. 

having to shave your legs

my boyfriend knows what’s up. we grow hair too! and we’re not afraid to sport it after we’ve allowed you to see us without makeup for over a year. this is not pretty, and you say you still love us; but we have mirrors. speaking of mirrors, why don’t i look the same in all of them? the same goes for you too, light. i can’t just see men after sunset and carry around a burning candle. people might start getting the wrong idea about me. like maybe i’m on my way to a smartcar pileup memorial, or perhaps i’m conducting an ongoing seance in which i try to conjure up the spirits of freddie mercury and billy mays. or i could just carry it around in the hopes that everyone will think i’m weird and leave me alone. it’s a simple life when no one wants to talk to you.

asians and car buying. what’s up with that??

disclaimer: i legitimately think i may have healing powers in my left hand. i don’t know how far that extends, perhaps up to my shoulder? where does this power dwell and why is it only on one side? you see, i’m already starting to sense that you’re thinking of other things to do instead of read my blog. maybe you should go write one yourself and see if you can be as hilarious as i am. i wish you luck, but i sincerely doubt you’re capable. anyway, ever since i was a child, my left hand seemed to ease any pain i had; mostly it helped with stomach aches. i shit you not, i could feel a rumbly in my tumbly and the minute i placed my left hand over the growling area, the relief was instant. who knows. and now i have a healing symbol tattooed on my left wrist, so maybe this power has been unleashed to the rest of me. i doubt it. i never tried using it on other people, mostly because they would think that i’d gone off the derp end, but also because i wasn’t sure if it would work. i’m gonna have to google this and find out how to harness my tiny gift. if i even have one. maybe it worked one time and now my brain refuses to believe that it’s anything less than crazy awesome. 

my lover (this is a woman, but we’re actually not single and madly in love) brought me a trader joes sack full of books. i’m in heaven.

i don’t feel like typing anymore and i would rather get back to my book instead of entertaining you internet noobs who have nothing better to do than follow my shit and wish that god gifted you with such eloquence and genuine wit.

i’ll remember the little people when i become the next jenna marbles. 

i said good day. 


that song “she loves me like jesus does”

first things, are you fucking kidding me? she must not ever want to have sex with you then  because i’m pretty sure that jesus love has nothing to do with physical contact and being intimate and all that shit. sure, he created it and made it illegal, but it’s the thought that counts. second, you are so homo. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

anyway. while i was typing up that last bit about nice things, inspiration struck me like a booger striking your windshield. better yet, it struck me like a raven hitting your windshield. that shit breaks. i decided to not only make another suck list, but to make a sister list to the things that don’t suck.


some days, my own genius makes me wonder why i’m not famous.

1.) old people that hold your hand

2.) old people that play fight with you

3.) old people that cuddle with you

4.) old people that say your tattoo is pretty, then forget and tell you how much they hate it

5.) old people that swear at you

6.) old people that drive too fast

7.) old people who take your shots

8.) kittens that literally claw your face off

9.) puppies that pee on you

10.) kitten bellies that have cat litter stuck to them

11.) puppy bellies that have poop stuck to them

12.) surprised kitty that attacks you

13.) slow wave runners

14.) down comforters at hotels with stains

15.) being stoned and not having nacho cheese

16.) being stoned and paranoid aboutdrug tests, parents, suspicious bosses and authoritative figures, bills/finding a job, people within smelling distance, sight, earshot, etc, what you’re doing with your life, how your accomplishments, if any, look to other people, why you’re even alive and who loves you, also why?

17.) in n out without spread

18.) having to wait for taco bell

19.) having a clean room that you don’t want to be in for fear of messing it up

20.) having a clean car that you don’t want to drive for fear of messing it up

21.) empty trash cans with gum at the bottom

22.) cooperative hair/eyeshadow that wrecks after an hour

23.) mascara that clumps, giving you the ever elusive hooker with a lazy eye problem essence

24.) when things go too smoothly at work all day

25.) when a creepy guy buys you drinks

26.) when a creepy guy buys you drinks and thinks it’s sexy that you saluted him and downed it within a 5 minute period. it’s called alcoholism.

27.) jeans that make your ass look like what all the black guys are talking about, then not being able to get rid of those black guys

28.) flip flops that are thin

29.) flip flops that go with everything and then BREAK 

30.) shoes that you have to tie

31.) feeling low key way more tired when you wake up

32.) when all the ugly dogs at the park flock to you like you’re snow white and they’re all the little ugly woodland creatures

33.) ugly little woodland creatures

34.) when your ipod plays all the bad shit you downloaded

35.) being a smoker and discovering that run was a one time thing; don’t try it again

36.) rain after you just curled your hair

37.) bow chicka wowow in the rain, because your eyes are getting pelted to death with nature’s clear eyes

38.) bed sex on a broken frame

39.) serious tampon commercials

40.) commercials that don’t have flowing nacho cheese in them

41.) serious jenna marbles videos

42.) dailygrace videos that make you realize you would run out of things to do every day on camera after a few years

43.) not knowing which olan rogers video to watch

44.) youtube videos that stop being funny after 30 seconds

45.) good coffee that you don’t even want

46.) strong drinks that make you grow hair on your chest

47.) fufu drinks that don’t get you fucked up

48.) bad days at ballet

49.) new car smell that isn’t in your car

50.) pizza that doesn’t have all the cheese in the world on it

51.) wine that’s been open for more than a night

52.) coconut rum

53.) watered down whiskey

54.) scotchy scotch scotch without ice

55.) when your neck pops on only one side

56.) april, because you’re constantly taking off and putting on that light jacket

57.) being too stoned at a concert

58.) friends who say good morning and pour the champagne for themselves

59.) friends who never offer you the greens

60.) friends who cuddle too much at sleepovers

61.) cinnamon toast crunch when you’re sick and can’t taste it

62.) bad eyebrow days

63.) old razors

64.) people who think they’re sarcastic by saying “not” after everything

65.) fat men in suits

66.) fat men in suits smoking

67.) fat men in suits smoking and drinking

68.) tattoos that hurt so bad you think you might die

69.) people who text back immediately and then stop after the next message

70.) cookie dough that has too much of one ingredient in it

71.) rotten coffe creamer shots

72.) awesome sex that only lasts 2 minutes

73.) freshly painted toes that just don’t fit your mood anymore

74.) lotion that leaves you needing a shower

75.) when you think you look good without makeup

76.) yoga pants that get saggy at the top of of your ass after a few hours

77.) my dog when he farts on me

78.) tinted chapstick that’s a weird colour

79.) people watching at dive bars with friends who don’t like to talk smack about strangers

80.) wasted white girls who try to fight you. it’s like being on a safari

81.) house parties where everyone is happy to be drunk…and naked

82.) drinking games when you lose all of them

83.) oversized drinking games that wind up causing severe damage

84.) candle baths with cats

85.) when your parents leave for wyoming for 2 weeks and your house has security cameras

86.) netflix when it doesn’t work

87.) when you eat healthy all day and cave right about 7 o clock

88.) no traffic on surface streets when you’re lost and want to go slow

89.) surface streets with a shit ton of dead and/or ugly trees

90.) light breezes that are just enough to get your hair stuck in your lipgloss

91.) clean underwear that are stained

92.) eating too much and not smoking afterward

93.) drunk friends who make you pancakes without asking when you’re about to hurl

94.) drunk friends who think they are the perfect hostess

95.) drunk friends who cry

96.) those days when you type fast, only to make every mistake possible

97.) happy hour that only discounts what no one ever drinks

98.) when people play with your hair and give you an afro

99.) the fact that i missed one and don’t feel like finding it

100.) this( )