Apparently I argued with a perfect stranger Friday night about the proper way to iron his shirt. It got so heated, in fact, that a friend later told me she's shocked he didn't bend me over his knee and give me a good "what for."
I should probably watch the amount of wine I'm able to put back...apparently I'm not nearly as much of a pro at it as I think I am.
It shocks me what kind of shit comes out of my mouth sometimes. As a girl, I'm automatically handicapped with a certain level of ridiculousness.
Also, I fully admit that sometimes, I'm categorically insane (crackers, bonkers, daft, wacky, off the reservation, has the six pack but lacks the little plastic thingy that holds it all together...call it whatever you want).
Also, I fully admit that sometimes, I'm categorically insane (crackers, bonkers, daft, wacky, off the reservation, has the six pack but lacks the little plastic thingy that holds it all together...call it whatever you want).
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