Things That Are French

Fries.
Toast.
Kisses.

Things That Are French

ThingsThatAreWarm

puppies.

Things That Are Purple

Grapes.

I drink alone, part 177

New apartment. New job. New mother fucking life. I made my first manhattan tonight and I'm pretty impressed. I'm sitting here after a long night at work, watching Hell's Kitchen ( my favorite guilty pleasure) and getting shwasted. This is the place I want to be in the time I want to be. Gordon Ramsey would tot's tell me to fuck off. I smoked a cig in my non-smoking apartment building tonight and I feel kinda guilty. I gotta quit! But booze and smokes go together better than sea salt and caramel. What's a girl to do?

Solution for the night; ima go outside to smoke and watch Hell's Kitchen on me IPhone. High nerdery bitches! There are nerderyer things I could do....I could be watching Doctor Who or BSG outside? Perhaps it doesn't matter what I'm watching, only that I'm watching from my telephone outside because I can't stand to sit and smoke in silence alone. Yeah, I guess it's time to quit.

Back

My cab driver tonight stopped for White Castle. She also stopped the meter but didn't ask if I wanted anything.

Hot hot heat

Drinking alone is harder when it's 106 outside. Especially red wine. Even in my air-conditioned hidey-hole. But unemployment makes it imperative. This is my job right now, and I take it very seriously. Television gets boring. Booze makes television better. Batlestar Galactica isn't the same sober anymore. Applying for unemployment is ridiculously easy.

Hey drunk friends, or friends who read drunk thoughts...

I make art.

I've started posting it.

Check it out by clicking  -> *HERE* <-

Comments are always appreciated. Intoxicated or not.


(Disclaimer: not all images were created while drunk.)

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Small towns love Steve Miller...do I?

I'm at a tiny bar in a tiny town drinking my 2 dollar bottle of Bud Light. So many sweet mustaches on such strange men. Also, there is a guy with AN EYE PATCH!! Jealous? I want to move here with all my friends and rule this town. It would be like a Rhianna song.

"IT'S A MUSTACHE."

Making feathers out of material that does get wet.

Disclaimer: I am not writing this in my word shit and then copying and pasting. No editing.

I am almost a real person again, so that's good news. Since I've been slightly made of jade for a year, give or take months or six to eight.

I want to go to France and I actually am going to this year. Before my next birthday. Fuck right. About fucking time in sooooo many ways. !!!

It was the Australian wine that got me pricing flights when I should have been reading dental reviews or some jazz and blah.

According to my last post I am supposed to post art things. I don't have a new photo so this is what you get:


(I don't want it. I just need it.... Maynard...) -nevermind that

^ this a month or so old ^ This I have for you dear readers tonight.

So I haven't dyed my hair in seven years. I am going to create something to ^this^effect with peroxide perhaps. Blah again.

The realization that I am an artist and that I am fleeting in the inspiration (or have been lacking entirely) is the begining of the sigh, the half breath, without follow through. This and the defotones makes me feel nostalgic...

Either way, anyway, I lost my thought... I am going to be my real self again soon.  By real, I mean of substance..... WHOA!!!!!!!!!!! Just killed a centipede!!!!!!!
 What was I saying?? I think I was going to say something about feeling like vapor, but killing that creepy thing... I now feel like a warrior. It a great night.

P.S. I went to a wedding over the weekend. Everyone should have a dancing bear at their nuptial and a fairy princess and a bonfire with pagan sacrifices. Just sayin. 

Tuesday 7:30am

Hangover sunburn construction outside my window ice cream sandwich.

tossed salads and scrambled eggs? WTF?!

Just spotted...L5 Graduates having 7 happy hours...where were you? Burning through Uptown bars like matches, there was some cavorting of the good kind. Catching up on gossip and life goals poured out as freely as the 10 dollar bottles of wine. If Uptown has become as unbearable as S says, it was impossible to tell tonight in this happy (and intoxicated) little clique. S and A: less jaded? Lonely boy: less lonely (but more in heat)? And a "new friend?" Burling Brother?

Is this a real blog or a spoof?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CloKbXtD28&feature=youtube_gdata_player

Rebirth.

I wrote an entry awhile back about the horrors of the service industry. I firmly stand behind everything that I said.

However, I have recently come to realize that being in such an industry is simultaneously the best and worst. The networking that occurs from the peers you collect is truly amazing. The job opportunities alone are worth sticking around for. The crazy learning curve has quickly become my personal favorite perk. The fact that I just had a glass of incredibly expensive wine for next to nothing is pretty spectacular.

See, the cameraderie that comes from the worst of it creates the best of it. That's a pretty fucking large silver lining.

Art and the lack of art. The trash.

This weekend was Art-A-Whirl. I of course went, because I go every year. Beforehand I had a bunch of Mexican food and showed up to the winds of creativity completely full. Smart I thought; I will drink some beer while chatting and such. I stopped by a few galleries where I knew I’d actually see good art, and briskly walked passed all the crap art, trying not to look. I don’t like to look at crap.

It’s sometimes hard for me, when an image is in my face not to think about, critique about if you will. Whether I like it or not, I often have an opinion… (More on this.) If I don’t like it, I may offer suggestions to better whatever.

I went to a couple of the bars having music, which is where I drank the beers. I saw a lot of people I’ve met before. It was all in good fun, until all these five minute conversations about bullshit I don’t give a shit about started annoying me. This is the pointed in long days involving alcohol where I stare off at a dot on the wall or something and let my mind wander around my own head and I think.  Given the art mood of the day, I was also critiquing, ya know. Something else I’ve done a few times over the years is say what I think out loud while I’m zoned out or into something without realizing I am voicing my thoughts. I must have done this; it’s the only explanation…

My boyfriend comes up to me and shifts me from my trance by asking me why or if I said something to someone. Shit. I don’t remember saying it out loud, but I do remember thinking it.

This girl who I’ve been seeing around since she is friends of friends told my boyfriend I said she dresses trashy and that I never noticed she was pretty before because of it. It is true she does dress trashy; it is also true that I thought so during the few times I saw her throughout the day. I don’t actually remember saying it to her though. I guess she was crying about it, like I really hurt her feelings. She has to know she walks around looking like a slut, whether or not I actually told her or voiced my thought out loud while she was in my line of sight.

I feel bad about hurting her feelings, even though I don’t know her at all and don’t really care about her feelings, or why she told my boyfriend at all. I just don’t like upsetting anyone. It’s not nice. It obviously doesn’t make anyone feel awesome.

What I think about this now though is if someone said I dressed trashy, I would say they are full of shit and not think twice about. I am confident in the way I present myself in my fashion styles to the world. So this girl must know she wears attention getting clothes in the corner prostitute variety, she must lack confidence in herself and her apparel options.

I also know the popular saying, if you don’t have anything nice to say, than you shouldn’t say it all. So maybe she is a mind reader, or I’m just not nice at the end of the night when I’m annoyed and an eyes sore keeps showing up, like train wrecks or tornado damage you can’t look away from and only wish you could act in a way to better the situation.

I will mention that I am aware that my last post included feelings of annoyance. I will not turn all my spill blogging into venting about this particular feeling. Next time I will drink wine at home, and make my own art that is not crap and post the outcome on here.

America, Fuck Yeah

I accidentally drank a bottle of wine by myself tonight. It's been a while. It started with just a glass with dinner, but I was sitting outside and it was just so nice and familiar. Then, before I knew it, I was on the last glass. That nice warm feeling is somehow comforting to me when so many things are changing in my life. Hello old friend, it's been too long, how I've missed you. I wish we could see more of each other, but my schedule just isn't conducive to our lifestyle together. But we'll be close again in 40-50 years when I retire...I hope. As long as I'm rich. No one like a poor old drunk woman. But a 60-year-old woman in pearls and Channel can be as drunk as she wants too. Right? or have I been watching too much Gossip Girl? Whatever, I do what I want.

I MEAN IT.

We are all dude girls. This means that we are normally the lone girl in a sea of dude friends. Tonight it was me D S and K. We shot the shit for... four hours? PBR, Jameson, Beam, Summit, Abrasive, Powers, more, bring us! Here's cash. I'll get this round. You're going in? Mine on the rocks.

Dudes are way better than girls for a large number of reasons.

Show me your craft. Let's talk about movies. How about grass fed cows vs corn fed cows? Huffington Post says what? That bitch has to go. You spilled your beer on yourself, man.

Cab rides with chick cab drivers. "Desperado" blaring. Want to text Sugar and Mandy... probably too late. Holy shit did we close Mackenzie's? We did, they gave us plastic cups. Here's $8.

We are bonded together, me and my male counterparts. It feels so good to work with dudes again. You understand, right?

Out of the races and on to the tracks

Vacation.
Parents.
Sun.
Fun.

I suppose I'm having a good time. I've been drunk or buzzed most of the day. How do retired people live like this? I woke up at six fucking thirty this morning. Damn my morning job. I've been in a haze of kinda drunk/tired all day up until about nine pm (11pm MN time). And now, all of a sudden, I'm fucking awake. So, after consulting a few trusted allies through text message, I have decided to get druuuuuuunk. Why Not? Im on VayCay, Haaaay. I am drunk, but I can still tell this blog is superrr lame and not really cohesive. But. Do. I.
Care.?
No.




Good.
times.
Ps, I might be back later.

pps, im not even proofreading this before i publish! Some times I am such a bad ass.

I Broke a Rule.

Yep.

Rules of this unruly blog are of my very own creation and I broke a cardinal rule. I deleted a drunk post. Making mountains out of molehills is basically what Spill the Blog posts are about, and I decided that the mountain I had crafted had become too high, thus deleting. I promise to put something much better in its place.

I solemnly swear to never, ever, ever break this rule again. Forgive me, my lush friends.

xoxo,

Anniemosity

what never was

What happens when old friends feel like strangers? What happens when alcohol no longer lubricates uncomfortable social situations? What happens when everyone is tired and wants to go to bed at 10pm?

We might as well be dead.

MMMMMMM

I have some multimedia treats for all u bloogers

so this is the bacon infused vodka!!! cant wait to use it in a bloody or bacontini!!!!

and a great meal to go with the bacon infused cocktails...

and for some desert.....

Annoyed and Satisfied. Summer is approaching.

I went to Ampersand’s new place of employment last night, as she said at the other semi colon’s birthday she works every night except for one night that wasn’t last night.

She was not there working. Instead a boy with plugs in his ears and what looked to be matching dimples was there where our Anniemosity should have been standing, leaning perhaps, it wasn’t incredibly busy.

My boyfriend and I decided to stay for a drink anyway. As I was looking at the awesome cocktail list, boy behind the bar interrupts my description reading to say, “I know what you want.”  He then points to the first drink on the list and says, “You like cosmopolitans right.”

I gave bartender dude guy boy a perplexed stare. I guess my crimpy hair from the removal of a dozen braids, and the vintage grandma cardigan, and the torn knees in my jeans, and the man accompanying me wearing a hoodie without a shirt underneath just screams, “I want the girliest fucking concoction on your menu!”

Dude annoyed me even though he had those dimples.

I went with the Maker’s and ginger of course, as I am obviously a modern day gypsy hippie. I’ll have to say though, I was much less annoyed when I was served a rectangular plate with a lowball of ice, a lowball with 4 ounces of whiskey in it, and a little glass bottle of very gingery ginger ale (that is only served at this particular establishment in the entire state as bartender guy informed me) upon it. I was able to play bartender and mix the ingredients to my liking. It was like two drinks, so the $8 price tag didn’t seem steep at all. My boyfriend got a tap beer.

Everything was going great. Then I saw an ‘old friend’ around the bar. Mostly we were never really friends and just had a mutual one and were never complete bitches to each other. We chatted a minute. I guess she works there too. How unfortunate for our dearest Anne, girl is fucking crazy and should be avoided. Yeah, our chat was just a bunch of crazy shit she is up to that I don’t give a fuck about, but do because it involved our mutual friend that I do give a shit about. My boyfriend knew who she was too, and had some other crazy stories to share about her later in our evening.

I do like this bar and restaurant, and will definitely go back there when I’m sure my real friend is working so I can give her my money.

After all of this oddness, my boyfriend and I went to the 7^th St. Entry and saw Toro Y Moi and they were fantastic!

I can’t wait for summer. Rooftop patios. Fireworks. Nature walks. Sundresses. Blah, blah, blah.

Bitches Brew

Sometimes if feels so good to talk some good old fashioned shit.

Here are some funny pictures.





It's 7:30 and I'm drunk. I work at 6am now.

The Right Decision.

I am drinking alone at work on an empty hungover stomach. What does this say about me? Perseverance? Strength of character? High-functioning alcoholic? Who cares, the cocktails here are top fuckin notch, and don't you forget it.

Return Of The Mac

I feel obligated to blog, as I am fairly inebriated. But I have nothing to say to you assholes. That's right, I said what everyone is thinking. What are you gonna do about it? That's right, you got nothin'. You're boring. I'm out.

Waiting for Pizza.

I feel like I'm cheating

but I am not as drunk

as I should be.

Waiting for pizza

is the worst.

I can almost taste you,

chicken

mushrooms

gouda

mozzarella.

Thin crust.

I refresh your online ordering

and watch the bar change

across my screen

watching

waiting

salivating.

Any minute now

it will say

you are being delivered

to me.

But my stomach loudly

reminds me

that I am still hungry

and still waiting.

fashion

drunk haiku

i googled haiku
just to make sure i'm doing
it right and i am

drunk haiku

samuel adams beer
doesn't count as real beer but
i am desperate

drunk haiku

'twas cliffbar's b-day
when i got home from the bar
i ate cottage cheese

happy bday, you stupid bitch.

Songs In The Key Of Life

Just spotted, A and S learning about jobs with benefits. Is the wind of change finally blowing something well deserved in their respected directions? Lubricated with discount Spanish bebidas, they are overheard gushing about work for the first time in far too long.

Looks like, for the time being, everything's coming up Sugar.

xoxo

Burning Bridges

So. I hate my job. And I have a new job. But I have four days left at the job I HATE. I didn't realize how much I hated my job until I got the new one. I wouldn't let myself. At this point, I feel like...okay I'm going into metaphor mode...
I bought a pair of shoes out of necessity, I didn't really like them, but I needed them. They never really fit right and I've been looking for a new, affordable pair ever since. I recently discovered a new pair of shoes; I haven't tried them on or anything, but they look a hell of a lot better than my last pair. So at this point, I'm wearing the old shoes and I'm trying to decide if I should maybe just toss them and walk barefoot for a few miles until I get the new shoes. It's risky; I can't see the road ahead, it could be full of broken glass! But it could be so much easier than walking in these uncomfortable, crappy, ugly shoes. If this wasn't a metaphor, I would totally toss the old shoes and go barefoot. Fuck broken glass.

Fuck broken glass.

This has nothing to do with my post.

1st patio bloody of the season @ Burrito Loco

Smokey Bloody

March sixteenth and the snow is mostly melted...at least on the patios of Minneapolis bars! I was in Dinkytown area for a friend's birthday, so we headed to B-loc's for a celebratory bloody and a shot of, what else, but Windsor Canadian Whiskey! I was completely floored to find this bloody to be delivered void of any garnishes or salted rim. Question Mark?? I also had to ask for the beer chaser...? Lowpoints aside, this b-loc bloody has flabbergasted my tastebuds beyond belief. If there was a sun-dried tomato-based tomato juice, then that must be what they have at b-loc's (even though I can only imagine extracting juice from a sun-DRIED tomato would be prohibitivley difficult). This bloody had a smooth, mildly spicy flavor with a hint of smokeyness, and the perfect undertone of vine-ripened tomaotes. Also something I happen to really appreciate: the visual evidence of celery seeds rather than celery salt.

On flavor alone this bloody was simply TDF (to die for), and despite the lack of salted rim and granishes, I can definitely stand behind this bloody. Although I did not order food during this sitting, I can say from experince that a fat burrito from b-loc's would have gone stunningly alongside of this robust bloody mary.

Please excuse me for not paying close attention to the tab today--I was a little over the top and didn't make sure to total the price of this particular bloody, but instead the entire tab: 1 bloody and 1 shot of Canadian Winsdor ran me 11.30$

2-4-1 bloody!! Herkimer

Hello Friends,

Herkimer bloody

Today i had a delicious spicy, very spicy, bloody mary at the Herkimer! 3-6 daily is happy hour 2 fo 1's even on bloodys also included a beer chaser. This bloody was a delicious, some would even say sinfully spicy treat. It also was a little chunky, but in a totally good way. Garnished with only an equally spicy pickle for a classic simple presentation. I also took advantage of the 3$ apps (maj). I paired my bloody mary's with the "fondue" which i had already ate half of before i remembered to snap a pic.

This little app consisted of a creamy and smooth tomato basil soup accompanied by white and multi-grain, cheddar and mozz grilled cheese bites. Perfect for one or possibly two less hungry bloody adventurers.

At a grand total of 8.50$, 5.50$ for two bloody's and 3$ for the fondue, it was really an afternoon steal!

Sometimes!

Sometimes you quit jobs for better Mr. Sunshine ones.

Sometimes you drink with great friends who make you laugh.

Sometimes you have three martinis at places where you know sous chefs you hug you weirdly.

Sometimes you get accosted by old men who want to prove that weather exists because of god.

Sometimes your friends drink out of eight straws.

Heroes

Dearest Dior

Did you miss me?

Just spotted at the Dive bar, A, S and Miss J in an attempt to get the band back together. Aren't we glad S is done with her hiatus from The Bottle? Girl talk, boy talk and Bitch talk ran rampant tonight with the lubrication of three pitchers of The Club's cheapest ale. We hear that S will be sharpening her knives and A will be polishing her glasses at new locales. Congrats ladies, this could be the start of better and brighter futures. Saying goodbye to the past shouldn't be so easy.

Glad to be back.

Until next time,
xoxo

This post is about Shannon.

Day drinking with long lost friends is the best. Wish I could afford to make it a habit.

On the subject of employee holiday parties, and the day after

I arrived at the Loon around nine at night, apprehensive and wanting to turn around and go home. I smoked one of my last five cigarettes outside while I worked up the nerve to go inside. Mistake #2. (Mistake #1 was having a few glasses of wine before leaving home). I walk inside and am greeted by a a few co-workers I vaguely know; Ryan or Bryan and...Chris I think. I see Nester and Shawn (kitchen folk) and wander over. I take off my coat and order my first of many glasses of wine. I hear someone yell my name, and over in corner are Shala and Kathy my bosses with some of the Ecuadorian kitchen staff. I go over, say my hi's and gulp down some liquid courage. I find out we can smoke upstairs so it's on to cigarette number two already. I gulp wine I make painful smalltalk.
It's two hours later, I'm drunk and I went out and bought cigarettes. It's time for the door prizes. I find myself with two tickets instead of one like everyone else. First number called, me. Oh goody, I get to pick from a bunch of football crap or a giant bottle of vodka. And into the purse goes my new friend Absolut. I watch as the other prizes are handed out, all the while keeping an eye on my other ticket. The number gets called! Hoorah! I won...a smoker? What the hell am I going to do with a smoker? Applause applause, I'm so popular now, I'm a double winner. I feel like
Zoidberg.


It's later, I'm chain smoking, I'm talking at people, I'm taking pictures. I go downstairs and Shawn (who had won the other bottle of vodka) was passing around his prize with all the Ecuadorians. A shot glass is being passed around a round table with the vodka and everybody is chanting. Cello! Cello! Rueben! Rueben! Sarah! Sarah! What me? no thanks, I'm already drunk, I don't need to puke or pass out. Why don't you take my shot? Shalla! Shalla! Oh, the good times. Oh no, the bottle is gone? Sarah to the rescue, you guys can have mine!

I'm smoking now and it's become apparent I am over my limit. I keep looking at my phone to check bus times but every time I look, another half hour has passed and I've just missed the most recent one. And now it's 1:15 and the next bus isn't until 2:20? Is that right? Do the buses run that late on Sunday? Are you lying to me Blackberry? Fuck and Shit, I need to flee and I need to flee now. I've got to take a cab.


The next morning....what have I done? What fool of myself have I made? Was it worth it? I try to sleep as much as possible before work, the sense of dread slowing growing in the pit of my stomach. I take the bus to work and before I walk in, I seriously think about just turning around and going home. I have to be here for 7 hours. If I quit, I wonder if I could beg for my job back tomorrow? Maybe I should have a knife "accident;" would it be better or worse to spend the next 7 hours in a hospital? I walk in. Everyone is very quiet. I can tell that everyone is tired and crabby. I see Kathy, and we say hi without making eye contact. "You forgot your smoker at the bar." Shit, in my desperation to flee I forgot my new toy. Fuck it, my loss is someone else's gain.
I feel shaky and dehydrated, I chuck a coffee and then a water and another water and then a coke. It doesn't even feel like I'm swallowing, they're just being absorbed into me. Time doesn't move. So. Tired.

No more employee parties. I'm gettin' too old for this shit.

Attitude Problems

What's up with being a mean drunk? When I'm drunk I love all, and I want all to know it. My roommate and I had a party on Friday and her friends are a bunch of bitches. Shit-talkers (and not even in a hilarious, I don't mean this but I kinda do sense), disrespectful of the home that's hosting the party, and cruel.

I found a Guthrie employee passed out and the stupid little bitches had written all over his arms in permanent marker, wtf? At that point I wondered if I had done a time warp and was back in my home town at a high school party with a bunch of people I secretly hated. But guess what? I don't have so secretly hate these bitches, I openly hate them, everybody, I hate these bitches.

Also, the little bitches kept leaving the door to the apartment open. Perhaps, and this is just a theory, they were all born in a barn. I have a cat, and I really like her. I would rather she didn't run away, and if I was her, I would run as far as possible from the little bitches.

Also, after all my Guthrie friends had either left or passed out, I heard them talking shit! How DARE they! If I talk shit about my friends, it comes from a place of love. And yes, I am talking shit now, I realize that, but I believe I have more grounds than, "and that weird guy kept messing with the stereo and telling me my music sucked." Your music does suck, and you shouldn't be playing music anyway since it isn't your party.

Oh how I hate the little bitches. Guess what little bitches? NO MORE PARTIES AT THIS APARTMENT! If you're gonna be there, I'm sure as hell not.

Also, why do you all look the same? It's seriously like some sort of nightmare.

"I'm French, ***k you!"

How to spill the blog on an airplane: here

Rosedale Mall

Sometimes you gotta start drinking at 1pm. When your boyfriend says "Let's get on the 84 and go to the mall and get lunch and catch a flick," you gotta do it. If he says "I'll buy lunch if you get the movie tickets," you gotta do it. If you happen to get too drunk and miss the movie and then five hours later you're slamming PBRs and watching "Dude Where's My Car," you know it's all good.

For the truck of it.

I spent most of my day riding around the town in a truck and getting things done. I also managed to purchase knee high black boots, patterned tights, and some other shit from the thrify vintages shops I'm not going to bother listing. I'd like to tell all my readers here, I am the best thrifter you have ever encountered. I should really start an etsy shop and sell shit I find that you want on there, but I have bigger plans in the works. Oh yes, huge, gigantic plans... I'm drinking sake if you were that interested to know what compelled me tonight. I'm also waiting for my dude guy to get here and I'm alternating eating gummy worms and smoking cigarettes, this is because I am actually French and don't just want to be. I have citizenship and shit. I'd consider returning to my homeland if I could actually speak the language. I will keep tabs on Sugar's facebook page to learn words daily. Dudes here. Gotta go. Gotta let him in.

Bitches

I'm at a bar. Right now. I was just having a burger and a cocktail with Bombard, innocent enough right? A brigade of whores sat next to me almost immediately. Ignored, as much as possible. We were annoyed, asked for our check. As soon as the whores caught wind of this, they offered our seats to a group of vulture gentlemen who are staring down their shirts. So what do I do? I nurse my drink to the very last drop. It's watery, but still I sip. I chew the ice. I stir the last remnants of the Jameson and water. You offer up my chair before I get out? I will sit here until your gentlemen friends realize you are as annoying as you are. Treat me like a barrier, a cock-blocker, and I will most certainly become one. Believe.

to sir with love

Dear Sophie,
I'm so glad we've got to the point in our relationship that we can finish a BOX of wine together. Let's be friends...
xoxo,
Madeleine

Dear Madeleine,
We had a box of wine tonight and we're okay, right? I mean, you and I have been more drunk than this before, right? I mean, I may be mistaken, because you are my instigator for sure, and I don't remember a lot of our wine box nights together, but most of them end with chain smoking and talking about stuff we don't remember, and right now we're just watching Friends and, y'know, talking and laughing, right? We're okay. We are okay.
xoxo,
Sophie

Dear Sophie,
No bitch, we are totally cool. Apparently after holiday season our tolerance is a little upwards and we can dig it. I don't feel ridiculous right now, but I did have three glasses of wine at lunch too, I got a head start, a warm up...what's your excuse? And wee did have a damn hearty meal and that soaks up a shit ton of wine. Happy New Year you stupid French bitch.
xoxo
Madeleine

Dearest,
It's fucking 2011. What does that mean? That means 20BoxedWine. Does that register? That means that my tolerance, OUR tolerance, has increased. It increases every year, with age, with experience, with TOLERANCE. That means I need no excuse, aside from time and life, bitch. I am Kanye West, I do what I want. That's right, Taylor Swift, I will do what I want. Beyonce does "Single Ladies," and I will tell her it's the best video of the year if I want to. Does this make sense? Yes, it fucking does.
All the best,
Sophie
PS: Vegas belongs to me.

Mostest,
Oh, my gosh, I had so much fun on New Years. I'm not sure if I told you. I'm pretty much 30 now, so I should have a higher tolerance. I have to pee, hold on...
I just realized I have a little Charles Shaw left. We should probably destroy that tonight. We are French after all. There are tons of freaks here
xoxo
Mads

M-
Fuck yeah
-S

s
merica
m

M
MERRRRCAHHHH
S

anne, i mean s
FUCK YEAH
SSSarah-M

2011

That's my girl.