Apparently no one on WordPress wants me to talk about politics. Or robots. But just wait until I hit you with my impression of a robot talking politics while doing–yes–the robot.
I’m skinny, but a mean eater. To anyone in DuPont or Columbia Heights trying to find a pub still stocked with fish and chips this weekend, I’m sorry, that was my bad. Oh, and sorry about the Shepard’s Pie situation on H Street.
I’m the sort of person who, when asked, will never have cash on hand, especially when I have a ton of cash on hand.
I can cry on cue but the cue is any song by Death Cab for Cutie and once I start, I can’t stop until you turn the music off.
I believe in a thing called love. Shit, sorry, I meant, I Believe In A Thing Called Love by The Darkness is an all-time favorite song.
I’m hypersensitive, bat shit crazy, and could benefit from some medication but if you want to get kicked out of a bar in record time, I’m your girl. When I’m not your girl is during those drunken nights that your girlfriend can’t hang out. Consider me officially over being the go-to drunk dial for disingenuous assholes.
My immune system is like the catshit coating a hoarder’s bedroom–there but not adding much to the overall conditions, and reeking of ammonia. If it were a wine, it would not pair well with chilli or Indian food.