This is my favorite part of the week. The part where I recap the things written in my magical notebook of fun. To begin, let’s take a moment and pay homage to my previous notebook. I lost it at somepoint last week when I was on my continuing two month binder. All of the magic of said notebook will be found by some lonesome soul and they will be freaked out forever. I am responsible for literal fucking awesomeness.

Here we go:

“I was a zombie or Frankenstine’s Bride. I was something that shouldn’t have been and I stuck out.”

“I like to get drunk and fall down–tumbling in slow motion like a penny rolling on its edge until it eventually plops–flat on its bottom.”

“After a couple of drinks I cannot distinguish the difference between diet soda and rootbeer.”

“I think the number one reason I’m not a heroin addict is because I don’t want a fucking creepy haircut.”

“I can’t stop having casual sex and I blame all men.”

“He looks like the kinda guy that could build a house with his hands or you know, kill a bear, or win real big in a bar fight. And that last one could come in fucking handy.”

“There is drunk Sabrina and then there’s Stromboli. And whiskey is the leading proponent of of Stromboli.”