Hate to say I told you so...

but I told you I was an early drunk. So was my sister. We used to go carousing. We liked to carouse. I can prove it, with another informative pictorial tutorial.



My sister is simultaneously holding me up and leaning on me to hold herself up. If those arms weren't there, I would've slithered to the ground and passed out. It's hard to tell in the scaled-down picture, but her eyes are wandering off into the distance. My eyes are glazed, my smile is glazed, my head is bobbing, and my arms are limp. My sister drunkenly decided to wear alien stalks to top off her bridesmaid outfit, and I thought a pumpkin purse would be a good choice for my WEDDING. A white wedding is not the appropriate place for a fucking pumpkin purse.

My poor, perpetually tipsy sister. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride:



What can I say, we really like being wasted at weddings.

Excuses time: I haven't written anything in a while for five reasons. One, Stupid Cunt was supposed to fill up a few days with the rest of her sex/fight/hooker/hiking/cult stories. Two, I've been working and taking a class. Bu-sy. Five, nothing has happened. (See two.) The most exciting thing I've done was take a home pregnancy test in a Barnes & Noble bathroom while running errands for my mom. And that's not very exciting at all.

-G