Clever Girl Writes...

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I don’t wanna break the glass and slice open my finger. I need that finger to gesture to the people on the freeway.

Jackson Galaxy is the fuckin’ weird cat lady, not me.

But I have to say, the clothing isn’t the only thing I have a fascination with, it’s the models walking the runway. Have you seen them? Jesus Christ get these people a sandwich.

Anyway I have mixed feelings about these places; on the one hand, you can’t beat the price, it’s the cheapest thrill in town (it’s the only thrill in town), but on the other hand, you have to tolerate the slightly annoying language barrier.

I used the word park so many times in that paragraph, it defies proper grammar, and if people in this town knew about it, it’d probably make their panties wet… that’s how desperate they are for some excitement!

Once I entered my fifties, that’s it I guess, I’m no longer desirable. Put me out to pasture, I’m a fucking old cow.

When you use that word to insult another guy, it is essentially insulting women, so you’re affecting both genders. Oh, by the way, last time I checked, there were still only two genders, everything else is just stuff confused people made up.

Plus, you really should prepare ahead of time how you’re gonna phrase things when you’re instructing a class (is it inappropriate to burst out into laughter during yoga?)

When we trip and fall, we’re in our most human moment and there’s no redemption from it. No amount of money or fame can ease the embarrassment of tripping or falling down, we look stupid doing it, and there’s no getting around it.

You wear these clothes when you’re fed up and don’t care. They make a statement and that statement says “I don’t give a shit about myself or the world anymore today.”