Well, it’s been another fuckery-filled year of eyebrow situations good and bad, exquisite lucite heels, cutlets of all types, I CANTS, ho shit, panty cream of various textures, bruised eardrums, scorched retinas, battered souls, ROJO!!!, Zahara side-eyes, ailing Aretha chichis, death threats from Beliebers, and restraining order renewals from both Mah Boo and Prince Hot Ginge. And now we’ll stuff all of that into the tiny cardboard file box in our heads marked 2010.
You know, we’ll probably forget all about it when we wake up from our debauchery-induced coma on the first morning of 2011! And by “debauchery” I mean lying on someone’s couch with a bottle of whiskey I got for Christmas and a box of FINE GOURMET chocolates imported from California (aka fucking See’s Candies). I can’t wait!
And this is where I’m supposed to talk about my New Year’s resolutions, but I really only have one. In 2011, I’m going to try lift up the toilet seat more because I really don’t need my super to look up at me again while fixing it and tell me that I’m a messy pee-er. Actually, now that I think about it that was one of my favorite moments from 2010, so my one resolution should really be to be an even MESSIER pee-er in 2011. On that note…
I leave you with these pictures of Snooki looking like a shaved hamster in a ball at the Jersey Shore last night. The only good that can come of this is if they launch her into a portal in the sky where she’ll be transported back to the Jurassic age and be reunited with her soulmate Holly.
Happy New Year, everybody! Thanks for dealing with my shit every single day.