Team Non Sluts is not only worldwide, but minority friendly as well. Because of this, this bifecta figured it was about time that we went bilingual. Thats right, the chicks in room 162 will now be throwing around phrases in our second language: French. Oui Oui! J'aime a parler en francais avec ma colocataire! Bibliotheque! Elle est un ordinateur laid! Jambon! Pourquoi je porte des pantalons?! Je deteste pantalons!
But seriously though, it's finals week and we are so fucked. We hate to study(as you can tell by the quality of posts like this). So, we find it far to necessary to use phrases like this on a daily basis: Tant piss! Je suis dans la merde!
Figure that one out for yourself. Bifecta is now bilingual and therefore are no longer translating for the randos in Russia or Germany. Au revoir!
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Packing Drinking Game
So here's the deal. We hate to pack. And recently our lives have been consumed by packing and going and coming and forgetting things and making lists and overall a severe discontent with the fact that we are required by our schools and our families to move our shit around so much. We are girls and thus require a lot of stuff in our lives/on our persons so going home for the weekend much less for a whole month requires a caravan and a half in order to sufficiently take everything with us. And we hate getting that amount of shit together so we have come with an idea to help us get through the process.
Packing Drinking Game. You make a list of all the things you need to pack and take a shot after you have packed ten to fifteen items on your list (depending on how hammered you intend on becoming). It's brilliant and gives us incentive to want to pack.
"So i was thinking in the bathroom. Cuz that's what I do. All day. Everyday.".... You are witnessing evolution ladies and gents.
Packing Drinking Game. You make a list of all the things you need to pack and take a shot after you have packed ten to fifteen items on your list (depending on how hammered you intend on becoming). It's brilliant and gives us incentive to want to pack.
"So i was thinking in the bathroom. Cuz that's what I do. All day. Everyday.".... You are witnessing evolution ladies and gents.
Randos of the Day
1. We found out that our names are sexy (Emily is #4 and Elizabeth is #10 on top ten sexiest names ever). Unsurprising.
2. Running and sliding in socks on the floor of the student center is just as fun as it sounds.
3. Asians carry chap stick not chopsticks in their purses.... well actually....
4. Liz has a beef with moles
5. We need to learn how to make paper cranes
2. Running and sliding in socks on the floor of the student center is just as fun as it sounds.
3. Asians carry chap stick not chopsticks in their purses.... well actually....
4. Liz has a beef with moles
5. We need to learn how to make paper cranes
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Like Balls That's Happening!
So yesterday started out like any other day. Wake up late. Go to breakfast. Swipes on swipes on swipes. Take care of personal hygiene type things (Yeah right). Play basketball with HPC (You're kidding right?). Study for finals (No seriously, you're killing me here). Watch Friends (the Baby Got Back episode of course). And boom. Successful day. But what awaited us last night was awesome of epic proportions that not even we foresaw. And that's a LOT of awesome.
So Liz gets back from her phamily dinner and we get edgy (which is basically like getting ready but for totally awesome/edgy people like us who wear black nail polish and kick ass). Might we add that Liz is so hilariously underage that she had to get a fake ID to prove that she was 18, because in reality she's just a tot who needs to borrow identification from a very helpful Big Sister (Thanks Katie!) And so the night begins. We had heard of what was supposed to be a totally raging awesome dance disco party at this place in downtown Columbia, so we head out for the night with our glittery eyelids and our boots that were made for walking.
Now lets be real here for a second, this totally raging awesome dance disco party turns out to be located at what outwardly looks like a sketchy-as-fuck hipster metropolis. But since we're young and we're black and our hats are real low (catch that reference!?), we pay the man at the door and get our hands marked with 2 obnoxious "3"s that looked a lot like "E"s. So basically the bouncer is psychic/we're tight with the management. Okay so not really, but we're going to be DJ's there some day anyway, so what's the difference?
Next, we find a cozy little booth and commence texting out friends seeing if there were other parties happening. Considering this semi-empty room wasn't looking promising, we sat in our usual awkward as balls state waiting on the world to change. Then, the unbelievable happened. Less than 5 minutes after we sat down, two creepy as fuck older guys come up and ask if they can buy us a drink. Now we like our boys a little bit older, but consider the following descriptions: One was balding so he was wearing a hat, AND had a serious beer belly going on. The other looked like a 12 year old who was trying to impress Ke$ha: short, skinny and unshaven. AND he was wearing a fucking flat bill. If you think that two unbelievably gorgeous chicks like us are going to accept drinks from sick fucks like you, you have another thing coming.
Meanwhile, back in hipster mania, we followed up on our Friday night tradition of meeting drunk chicks who want to party with us. Let's set the record straight here: If people come up to Team NonSluts and ask us if we want to start a dance party, we are going to take them up on that offer. It's totally raging awesome dance disco parties that we live for after all. So these chicks had obviously pregamed and were approximately three shots past tipsy when we ventured out together onto the sad empty dance floor. We started the night off right and showed off our classy badass moves. Needless to say, we had followers last night. Unsurprisingly, people followed us out onto the floor and imitated our sweet moves. We even came up with our own routine which we plan on whipping out in the future when the occasion arises. It includes but is not limited to some pancake flips, vogue-ing, and hardcore attitude. Also the regular DJ at Dirty Disco is Asian and this made our night. God, we're diverse.
So the evening progressed and more hipsters joined us on the dance floor (no need for evacuation). And we came to find that Dirty Disco for all its advertised glory was a hotspot for lesbian interaction. Now don't get me wrong, we are all for lesbians. We do live in the bra burning dorm after all. But for the Friday before finals, it was a bit much for our naive and sheltered minds. So much butchness happening. So much awkward dancing. So many skinny jeans, so many bottles of PBR. We were in over our heads to say the least. As the dance party became more and more crowded, we came to a very important realization: Dirty Disco is an event in which one much be completely out of their minds schwasted to enjoy. And we were not. That was our first problem. Our second problem was the fact that we are not hipsters in the slightest. We don't have time for that shit and basically we don't understand their ways. So as we were dancing our asses off in a room full of them, we were a bit out of place and the hipster vibe radiating off every person there became too much for us to handle. Our bodies went into Hipster-Overload and we had to get out.
And get out we did. Very conveniently enough, El Rancho (a mexican munchies restaurant known for its clientele of stoners and drunks) was located right next door. Go us. So we hit that shit up and we came to find out exactly why it is so perfect for when you are slightly (or not so slightly) inebriated. Basically, the proportions are HUGE. As in the burritos are the size of a human head and the nachos are served on a platter. So Liz admitted defeat of her monster-sized burrito and I attempted to tackle nachos that could feed a small country and we called it a day. You amaze us, El Rancho.
We froze our asses off on the walk home, but holy hell was it worth it. Hipster mania and Mexican food galore rocked our world and we even made it home by 12:30. SOBER! We had shit to do today! We are so awesome. Sorry we're not sorry that God unevenly distributed the awesome and it looks like we got more than you. Good day.
So Liz gets back from her phamily dinner and we get edgy (which is basically like getting ready but for totally awesome/edgy people like us who wear black nail polish and kick ass). Might we add that Liz is so hilariously underage that she had to get a fake ID to prove that she was 18, because in reality she's just a tot who needs to borrow identification from a very helpful Big Sister (Thanks Katie!) And so the night begins. We had heard of what was supposed to be a totally raging awesome dance disco party at this place in downtown Columbia, so we head out for the night with our glittery eyelids and our boots that were made for walking.
Now lets be real here for a second, this totally raging awesome dance disco party turns out to be located at what outwardly looks like a sketchy-as-fuck hipster metropolis. But since we're young and we're black and our hats are real low (catch that reference!?), we pay the man at the door and get our hands marked with 2 obnoxious "3"s that looked a lot like "E"s. So basically the bouncer is psychic/we're tight with the management. Okay so not really, but we're going to be DJ's there some day anyway, so what's the difference?
Next, we find a cozy little booth and commence texting out friends seeing if there were other parties happening. Considering this semi-empty room wasn't looking promising, we sat in our usual awkward as balls state waiting on the world to change. Then, the unbelievable happened. Less than 5 minutes after we sat down, two creepy as fuck older guys come up and ask if they can buy us a drink. Now we like our boys a little bit older, but consider the following descriptions: One was balding so he was wearing a hat, AND had a serious beer belly going on. The other looked like a 12 year old who was trying to impress Ke$ha: short, skinny and unshaven. AND he was wearing a fucking flat bill. If you think that two unbelievably gorgeous chicks like us are going to accept drinks from sick fucks like you, you have another thing coming.
Meanwhile, back in hipster mania, we followed up on our Friday night tradition of meeting drunk chicks who want to party with us. Let's set the record straight here: If people come up to Team NonSluts and ask us if we want to start a dance party, we are going to take them up on that offer. It's totally raging awesome dance disco parties that we live for after all. So these chicks had obviously pregamed and were approximately three shots past tipsy when we ventured out together onto the sad empty dance floor. We started the night off right and showed off our classy badass moves. Needless to say, we had followers last night. Unsurprisingly, people followed us out onto the floor and imitated our sweet moves. We even came up with our own routine which we plan on whipping out in the future when the occasion arises. It includes but is not limited to some pancake flips, vogue-ing, and hardcore attitude. Also the regular DJ at Dirty Disco is Asian and this made our night. God, we're diverse.
So the evening progressed and more hipsters joined us on the dance floor (no need for evacuation). And we came to find that Dirty Disco for all its advertised glory was a hotspot for lesbian interaction. Now don't get me wrong, we are all for lesbians. We do live in the bra burning dorm after all. But for the Friday before finals, it was a bit much for our naive and sheltered minds. So much butchness happening. So much awkward dancing. So many skinny jeans, so many bottles of PBR. We were in over our heads to say the least. As the dance party became more and more crowded, we came to a very important realization: Dirty Disco is an event in which one much be completely out of their minds schwasted to enjoy. And we were not. That was our first problem. Our second problem was the fact that we are not hipsters in the slightest. We don't have time for that shit and basically we don't understand their ways. So as we were dancing our asses off in a room full of them, we were a bit out of place and the hipster vibe radiating off every person there became too much for us to handle. Our bodies went into Hipster-Overload and we had to get out.
And get out we did. Very conveniently enough, El Rancho (a mexican munchies restaurant known for its clientele of stoners and drunks) was located right next door. Go us. So we hit that shit up and we came to find out exactly why it is so perfect for when you are slightly (or not so slightly) inebriated. Basically, the proportions are HUGE. As in the burritos are the size of a human head and the nachos are served on a platter. So Liz admitted defeat of her monster-sized burrito and I attempted to tackle nachos that could feed a small country and we called it a day. You amaze us, El Rancho.
We froze our asses off on the walk home, but holy hell was it worth it. Hipster mania and Mexican food galore rocked our world and we even made it home by 12:30. SOBER! We had shit to do today! We are so awesome. Sorry we're not sorry that God unevenly distributed the awesome and it looks like we got more than you. Good day.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Ladies, Ladies! We all want to see some dick! - An Ode to Farmhouse
**This post can be sung to the melody of T-Swift's "You Belong to Me"** ...... yeah that's right this is a Taylor Swift themed dick post. Enjoy.
We were in our room. It was a typical Tuesday night.
We we're watching VH1 and taking bout how we're so white.
And we'll never know how Patti is so rad
But sluts wear short skirts, you're only wearing Santa hats
You're running down Richmond, and we're on the sidewalks
Dreaming bout the day when the first snow falls
And you run down the street and we see your balls
You should see that now your balls are turning really blue
There's a crowd even though there's only twelve of you
Why can't you see, you're being hazed by your fraternity?
Running down the streets and you're not wearing jeans
You leave your house and all of Jones starts to scream
Laughing on the sidewalk, thinking to myself,
That sucks cuz it's freezing.
And you've got a dick that would probably be alright,
If it wasn't freezing at eleven o'clock at night.
You think you're fine, but we know you better than that.
Hey whatcha doing with your thing out like that?
Cuz you're so naked but we don't really care,
You're being a tool and we'll laugh and stare.
Dreaming bout the day when the first snow falls
And you run down the street and we see your balls.
You should see that now your balls are turning really blue
There's a crowd even though there's only twelve of you
Why can't you see, you have a shriveled pee-pee?
We were in our room. It was a typical Tuesday night.
We we're watching VH1 and taking bout how we're so white.
And we'll never know how Patti is so rad
But sluts wear short skirts, you're only wearing Santa hats
You're running down Richmond, and we're on the sidewalks
Dreaming bout the day when the first snow falls
And you run down the street and we see your balls
You should see that now your balls are turning really blue
There's a crowd even though there's only twelve of you
Why can't you see, you're being hazed by your fraternity?
Running down the streets and you're not wearing jeans
You leave your house and all of Jones starts to scream
Laughing on the sidewalk, thinking to myself,
That sucks cuz it's freezing.
And you've got a dick that would probably be alright,
If it wasn't freezing at eleven o'clock at night.
You think you're fine, but we know you better than that.
Hey whatcha doing with your thing out like that?
Cuz you're so naked but we don't really care,
You're being a tool and we'll laugh and stare.
Dreaming bout the day when the first snow falls
And you run down the street and we see your balls.
You should see that now your balls are turning really blue
There's a crowd even though there's only twelve of you
Why can't you see, you have a shriveled pee-pee?
Monday, December 5, 2011
A request list for Gorilla Man
Gorilla Man has made a previous appearance here on the Greatest Blog of Our Time (That would be us. Duh.) and we would like to make a personal shout out to him. Gorilla man, you light up our lives and our daily walks to class in Middlebush Hall. While we appreciate your mad accordion skills, we would like to put in a few requests that stray a bit from your usual polka-like rhythms. We suggest you mix it up a bit to widen your audience and make what it becoming a bitter walk to class that much more entertaining. Our suggestions include but are not limited to:
1) The Imperial March. Star Wars bitch.
2) We Found Love. Because post-Chris Brown Rihanna kicks ass. Side note: Rihanna is now recognized by my spell check. Fuck yeah.
3) Lucky. It would be a serious white girl problem if my favorite accordion playing gorilla didn't play my song! Wah.
4) NOT Summer Lovin'. Thanks a lot John Travolta.
5) Anything from the Indiana Jones soundtrack. Mostly because men who wear satchels are SEXY.
6) Last Friday Night. What else would you want to hear being played on an accordion while walking out of class on a Friday afternoon? Nothing. That's what.
7) Goodbye Earl. Enough said. If you don't like this song you're un-American.
8) All I Want For Christmas is You. Or at least some Christmas music. Tis the season gorilla man!
9) Baby Got Back. Do it for Team Non-Sluts! Put the team on your back!
10) Tonight I'm Fucking You. The more Enrique that is played on this campus the happier I am.
11) Afternoon Delight. You know, just rubbing sticks and stones together making sparks ignite.
Mind you, this list is not limited to the above songs. We are open to just about anything other than "Friday". Thanks to a certain roommate I had that stuck in my head for the better part of Thanksgiving break. Fuck you you fucking non-frat douche face.
1) The Imperial March. Star Wars bitch.
2) We Found Love. Because post-Chris Brown Rihanna kicks ass. Side note: Rihanna is now recognized by my spell check. Fuck yeah.
3) Lucky. It would be a serious white girl problem if my favorite accordion playing gorilla didn't play my song! Wah.
4) NOT Summer Lovin'. Thanks a lot John Travolta.
5) Anything from the Indiana Jones soundtrack. Mostly because men who wear satchels are SEXY.
6) Last Friday Night. What else would you want to hear being played on an accordion while walking out of class on a Friday afternoon? Nothing. That's what.
7) Goodbye Earl. Enough said. If you don't like this song you're un-American.
8) All I Want For Christmas is You. Or at least some Christmas music. Tis the season gorilla man!
9) Baby Got Back. Do it for Team Non-Sluts! Put the team on your back!
10) Tonight I'm Fucking You. The more Enrique that is played on this campus the happier I am.
11) Afternoon Delight. You know, just rubbing sticks and stones together making sparks ignite.
Mind you, this list is not limited to the above songs. We are open to just about anything other than "Friday". Thanks to a certain roommate I had that stuck in my head for the better part of Thanksgiving break. Fuck you you fucking non-frat douche face.
SnacksOnSnacks
This day is bitchin, despite being a Whiny Monday. And this may possibly be Liz's last day on Earth because of the amount of grease and awesome she is putting into her body. She would like us to note that the man who made her grilled cheese sandwiches (yes that is plural) complemented her on her scarf. Yay for looking fly. Let us examine her lunch:
Meal of champions. Next we have a quote from one political science teacher, Jay-Z. "We have pushed every fucking button on that thing in the order they told us to do it and it's still not working." Make of it what you will.
Liz has holes in her crotch. What else is new, right? I mean, if you have two X chromosomes like my dear friend Liz, you better fucking have a hole in your crotch or else you are lying to society. We found this to be a particularly interesting discovery today however because she discovered two more holes in her crotch in the form of legging disrepair. White girl problem. And I feel like that happens way too often. Favorite pair of sweats, hole in the crotch. Favorite leggings, same deal. Why must you curse us, Legging Gods?!?! We're just trying to not wear pants! *insert cavewoman grunt* Mmmehhhh.
Here's a thought. Swipes for Xmas. Being broke as fuck college kids, we are having a pretty difficult time figuring out how to get presents for our loved ones this holiday season. New solution: use swipes instead. I'm pretty sure my sister will be getting a sheet of Rice Krispy Treats under the tree this year. Crisis averted. Dignity only semi-damaged.
And now to the most awesome thought of the day: Getting our shit together. We talk about this a lot, but today we sat down to three o'clock lunch and really buckled down. We decided that our résumés need to be amped up. To the extreme. Actually, I need to go. I gots shit to do.
Watch out. We have carrots. And we plan on throwing them at you.
Liz has holes in her crotch. What else is new, right? I mean, if you have two X chromosomes like my dear friend Liz, you better fucking have a hole in your crotch or else you are lying to society. We found this to be a particularly interesting discovery today however because she discovered two more holes in her crotch in the form of legging disrepair. White girl problem. And I feel like that happens way too often. Favorite pair of sweats, hole in the crotch. Favorite leggings, same deal. Why must you curse us, Legging Gods?!?! We're just trying to not wear pants! *insert cavewoman grunt* Mmmehhhh.
Here's a thought. Swipes for Xmas. Being broke as fuck college kids, we are having a pretty difficult time figuring out how to get presents for our loved ones this holiday season. New solution: use swipes instead. I'm pretty sure my sister will be getting a sheet of Rice Krispy Treats under the tree this year. Crisis averted. Dignity only semi-damaged.
And now to the most awesome thought of the day: Getting our shit together. We talk about this a lot, but today we sat down to three o'clock lunch and really buckled down. We decided that our résumés need to be amped up. To the extreme. Actually, I need to go. I gots shit to do.
Watch out. We have carrots. And we plan on throwing them at you.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
*Touchdown Pose* GAHHHH!!!
If you're here to read a blog about football just leave this page now because what you are getting right here right now is a rant from a girl who is fucking pissed at the stupid as fuck people that inhabit my immediate circle of acquaintances. REALLY?!??!?!?!?!? REALLY. GAAAHHHHH!!! Why is there so much shit that is not together? How come it is that there are so many people who are stupid and thrust their dumbass-ness upon me? Why must you fuck with my steady, down-to-earth demeanor?! Huh?!? Do you enjoy fucking my chill-as-fuck swag, homie?!
So get this. There is this guy, let's call him Frederic. And Frederic is a dumbass. You know why? Because Frederic doesn't know how to make a move. You think you're headed somewhere, I mean, you text and hangout and then.... nothing. REALLY??! I never thought I would be the girl with guy problems and here I am, getting pissed off about stupid boys who can't get their act together. Frederic, please get your shit together and call me when you do. In the meantime, don't unload your shit into my life and leave me frustrated and frankly as pissed as a pregnant woman without her morning tub of ice cream. No one wants to see that. Shits ugly. And so is my life right now when all of your shit is all up in my grill. Why the hell are you so stupid?! Don't make me be the one to fix that shit. Get your act together and grow a pair because until that time, don't count on us making progress in any form of togetherness that looked somewhat feasible. You may want it but you just can't have it until you get your shit together. I am so frustrated right now. Like Harry Potter when he found out he wasn't the most popular kid in school. AND THAT'S A LOT OF ANGST. Don't make me put my foot in your ass, you stupid, dumbass mother effer. The reasons for me liking you are becoming more and more muddled in my mind and frankly I don't know if I do anymore. You fucked up big time. You have a lot of work to do if you plan on salvaging this situation. Get crackin, shithead.
So get this. There is this guy, let's call him Frederic. And Frederic is a dumbass. You know why? Because Frederic doesn't know how to make a move. You think you're headed somewhere, I mean, you text and hangout and then.... nothing. REALLY??! I never thought I would be the girl with guy problems and here I am, getting pissed off about stupid boys who can't get their act together. Frederic, please get your shit together and call me when you do. In the meantime, don't unload your shit into my life and leave me frustrated and frankly as pissed as a pregnant woman without her morning tub of ice cream. No one wants to see that. Shits ugly. And so is my life right now when all of your shit is all up in my grill. Why the hell are you so stupid?! Don't make me be the one to fix that shit. Get your act together and grow a pair because until that time, don't count on us making progress in any form of togetherness that looked somewhat feasible. You may want it but you just can't have it until you get your shit together. I am so frustrated right now. Like Harry Potter when he found out he wasn't the most popular kid in school. AND THAT'S A LOT OF ANGST. Don't make me put my foot in your ass, you stupid, dumbass mother effer. The reasons for me liking you are becoming more and more muddled in my mind and frankly I don't know if I do anymore. You fucked up big time. You have a lot of work to do if you plan on salvaging this situation. Get crackin, shithead.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Things we should have have jumped on AKA what am I doing with my life!?!?!?
I like to think of myself as an independent woman who you you can throw your hands up at all day everyday. Who needs a man when you have a roommate you can act like a total fool with right? Wrong. It seems that my acting like an un-oppertunistic fool has me in a place that leaves me grunting like cavewomen over my life as we know it. Let's be real here for a second.
Here I am sitting in my dorm room on a gloomy Saturday night contemplating my life and how it is in shambles. Let's get one thing straight: I'm an idiot. I am continuously neglecting opportunities that have the chance to turn my hot mess of a life around. For example, last night whilst chaperoning Emily and two matching Asians in a Mizzou jersey and pink bow in my hair I was asked by a nice man at FarmHouse if i was a cheerleader. I was in fact a cheerleader in high school, but idiotically I was like "Nah dude, I was just too lazy to change after the game." WHAT THE FUCK. What am I doing with my life? I should have been like "OMG YEA! Go Tigers! Giggle giggle!" And then undeniably bangin' FarmHouse guy would have been all "Sweet, lets be friends, be more than friends, get married and have beautiful children that look like our adorable selves." And thats how things would have gone had my head not been in my ass.
So yeah. My life is a joke and I am constantly passing up opportunities to be a badass. Such as the multiple times at the gym when cute gym boys asked the both of us if we played sports in high school (i.e. rowing or basketball). Instead of bashfully smiling and confessing the only sport I played in high school was a year of golf and four years of yelling at idiotic freshman, I should have lied through my teeth an been all "OF COURSE I ran track in high school. I was a goddamn state medal winner who broke the sound barrier I ran so fucking fast!' Hell, I could have passed as a girls field hockey player. I could have at least said something than "Nah dude, Im just a poser who makes a complete and total ass of herself when ever she shows her face at this here gym." My life is in shambles.
And while on the topic of passing up prime opportunities in finding me a husband that will put up with my weird-ass self, I blame Emily for this one. Today, she encountered a dude who just happened to be speaking my personal favorite words as she passed by: "I'm single and rich". REALLY. REALLY. How could she not whip her head around and be all "Hold up dude, my roommate Liz is really into single rich guys, you should meet her!" and then send him my way. After hearing of this, I learned he was potentially from the East coast as well as being in a frat. These are the issues that I have in life. Single rich guys never seem to confess that to me and decide to hide during daylight hours. For fucks sake, show your face to the world. Some of us need a pick-me-up.
Friday, December 2, 2011
We Speak Well English.
So here in 162, a new phenomenon has erupted which we like to call NonSlutSpeak. Having become a bit too comfortable with each other, we have developed our own language which is comprised of part English, part cave woman grunts, and part made-up words. This language has served us well in communicating with minimal effort and maximum understanding. Care to learn our ways? Here are some basic lessons in the best language ever:
English:
If you don't know it by now, just... go away. Please and thank you.
Usage of Cave Woman Grunts:
1. warning to signal one's presence in a given place
2. expression of unease at human interaction
3. expression of lazy-as-fuck syndrome
4. signal that one doesn't give a fuck
5. show of anger
6. indication that one is dealing with a difficult internal struggle (such as white girl problems, bad hair days, failing at being vegetarians, and frustration at life in general)
List of made-up words/phrases that have proven surprisingly useful:
1. for fuck's sake
2. fuck that shit
3. HPC
4. we say the word fuck.... at lot... just whenever it fits in. you can stop judging now
5.... im too lazy right now to think of other things we say. ask me tomorrow.
and we need a catapult. easier to throw food at people.
and a bucket. so we can lower it out of our window and get shit from people. not drugs... jerseys.
English:
If you don't know it by now, just... go away. Please and thank you.
Usage of Cave Woman Grunts:
1. warning to signal one's presence in a given place
2. expression of unease at human interaction
3. expression of lazy-as-fuck syndrome
4. signal that one doesn't give a fuck
5. show of anger
6. indication that one is dealing with a difficult internal struggle (such as white girl problems, bad hair days, failing at being vegetarians, and frustration at life in general)
List of made-up words/phrases that have proven surprisingly useful:
1. for fuck's sake
2. fuck that shit
3. HPC
4. we say the word fuck.... at lot... just whenever it fits in. you can stop judging now
5.... im too lazy right now to think of other things we say. ask me tomorrow.
and we need a catapult. easier to throw food at people.
and a bucket. so we can lower it out of our window and get shit from people. not drugs... jerseys.
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