|(whiskey drinking and two minutes of silence)|
|Cash:||you know, fuck Wayne. All of his music is garbage.|
|C:||like he thinks we forgot he shot himself while posing for a photo.|
|M:||C, you're done Ma.|
“I mean, yeah, I am looking at your chest. But not because of that but because im trying to figure out how you have a Masters but still eat your breakfast like a drunken baby.”Me, pointing out the stains on my coworkers shirt. Not in private or quietly.
“Ive been waiting for this hooker from corporate to send me this fax. Like, who sends faxes?! That hooker from corporate, thats who!”This new administrative assistant just made me spill my coffee
My initial thought…
… While walking down my hallway was “who the hell is blasting French Montana’s ‘Pop That’ this loud?”
Then during Rick Ross’ “I love my big booty bitches” I realized it was coming from my apartment. The girlfriend kills it as my Welcome Home Committee on Fridays.
We Are Romance PT IV
|Me:||*reaches over to grab some of her snacks*|
|Cash:||hey, you said you weren't hungry so get away from me.|
|M:||but I paid for this.|
|C:||the movie doesn't start for another 15 minutes. That's enough time to go pay for some more.|
Question of The Day:
Whats an appropriate “welcome gift” for the new tenant that has been unpacking their car while playing R. Kelly’s Ignition(remix)?
Rolled into Alabama and their “hot hits” radio station is bumping the thong song.
Because Sisqo at five in the morning is just what I needed.