Hustle.

Shit. When did I turn into the bitch that cannot sleep alone? Seriously. I even deleted 98% of my phone contacts, which in turn means 100% of my shitty dude contacts are gone. How did I call you? Ohhh because you text me with super dumb hook up things. Blah. Delettttttte. Anyhow, tonight was fucking awesome. Even though Megan lost her camera and I unsuccessfully screeeeamed at the cab driver to "take me back to my English loverrrr!" I feel like it was a success.

Stephanieeeee.. I successfully "eye-fucked" someone. I owe the ability all to you. He was English (aka totally NON-BUFFALIONIAN) and tattooed and up my alley. Although I eye-fucked him and pretended I was not interested. I am dumb. English men have bad teeth though.. right? Fuck, I need something to justify my "hard to get" shitty attitude.

Ah, I am still in love with the bartender/bar back. But he "has a girl" in West Seneca. Meh, that whole scenario ruined it for me. It kind of made everything too real. A little crush first of all and now I am picturing his white picket fence and chocolate lab. I want to take it back to when he called me "babe" and "doll" and leave it at that. Oh wait.. tonight, yikes. "Nah, these drinks are from the boys and me". "You never know"- Sara. So true!

Oh well, this whole jam is null and void. Because I have decided that from now until I am 30 I am going to fuck like a dude. For real, 30 is my scary (even terrifying) age. 30 is when my life has either been successful or not. 30 I will (hopefully) marry and have beautiful babies named Ramona, Antoinette, Milo, Luca and Liam. 30 I will have settled into a fantastic job. Orrrrrrr 30 will just be the year when I reflect on the previous 8 years and realize how awesome it was to FUCK LIKE A DUDE.

Ah, total trainwreck.