(no subject)
Dear Everyone Not from the East Coast,
I don't give a shit how fucking laid back you all are at home, or how chill you consider life to be. Fact of the matter is, you're in MY house now, and running on MY time, and you're gonna fucking pick up the pace. Quit forming a line across the entire staircase, or dawdling in front of the freezer debating if truly the only good Odwalla juice is Mango Madness, or looking up the temperature on weather.com of whatever city you're from and telling me how hot it is there, or sitting in your bed in your underwear savoring every fucking bite of a Cheetos Puff loud enough so that I might know how awesome it is, too, and then, in case I didn't get the message, telling me how it's soooo goooood do you want onnneeee WHY NOT ugh well it's soooo goooood. I've got shit to do, so either go back to your radical home state, or else MOVE IT, SISTER. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, ALL OF YOU.
Yours,
Molly S. Griffin
I don't give a shit how fucking laid back you all are at home, or how chill you consider life to be. Fact of the matter is, you're in MY house now, and running on MY time, and you're gonna fucking pick up the pace. Quit forming a line across the entire staircase, or dawdling in front of the freezer debating if truly the only good Odwalla juice is Mango Madness, or looking up the temperature on weather.com of whatever city you're from and telling me how hot it is there, or sitting in your bed in your underwear savoring every fucking bite of a Cheetos Puff loud enough so that I might know how awesome it is, too, and then, in case I didn't get the message, telling me how it's soooo goooood do you want onnneeee WHY NOT ugh well it's soooo goooood. I've got shit to do, so either go back to your radical home state, or else MOVE IT, SISTER. GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY, ALL OF YOU.
Yours,
Molly S. Griffin