Like, TODAY, for example. I commute an hour to work. This morning I decided to stop for coffee at a gas station 5 minutes away from the shop. I get out of the car with a MAJOR wedgie and reach in to free that sucker. (don't act all smug. like you wouldn't pick a painful wedgie.) And my hand goes completely through my pants. I had a giant hole in the crotch and didn't even fucking notice. And these weren't no wide-leg trousers; these were skinny pants. I could have given birth through this goddamn hole, it was that big.
I can't very well drive 55 min home to change pants, plus there's no clean ones there anyways. I show up at work and explain the situation to my 90-year old boss, and he suggests gorilla glue. Gorilla glue? He gorilla- glued a tomtom to his dash and ever since has been gorilla glue-ing everything. One of these days I'm going to go sit on the can and they'll be gorilla glue on it and I'll be stuck. I know it. No, I tell him. These are expensive pants and I would prefer not to gorilla glue them. I'll just go buy some new pants.
One hour later, I got me some bootilicious Michael Kors slacks. Mr. Kors understands that size 4 legs plus a size 10 ass equals a size 6. Why don't other designers get that? I go back to work and ......hop about the place turn my swag on. Pay no attention to them haters cuz we whip em off and we ain't doing nothing wrong. So don't tell me nothing, i'm just tryna have fun. So keep the party jumpin. I whip my hair back and forth. Hells to the yes!
Jimmy Fallon is the ish. Many thanks to my girl Lynnsey for sending me this. Totally cheered me up. Now if only the clock would move faster, because I need to go home and suck off a bottle of wine like I'm a whore and it's my fucking job. Thank GOD tomorrow is Friday!
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