Disclaimer: For those who don't know me, I am overtly dramatic by nature.
A few weeks ago, I turned 20. If you read my blog back then you would know I had a very tough time with that little transition. My friends told me it would get easier as the months went on. How wrong they were...
My stove has been broken for a month now and I have made zero efforts to fix it.
When I was younger I was obsessed with ABBA, in fact I think my copy of the Gold Album may have combusted due to sheer overuse. I never saw any problem with this as I was six and shimmying around my front yard declaring my love to Fernando seemed perfectly normal.
Want a mental image? I give you...5-year-old Jordyn dances to ABBA, yes that is really dancing I promise.
I can't stop ordering Martini's.
Who the fuck am I James Bond?
Can you name every single country in the world?
Every night (or 6am shh) when I get home, somewhere between picking the lock to my apartment because I can't seem to ever remember my keys and finally falling asleep, I have to list every single country in the world. Ok, well I try to at least. I found this quiz on Sporcle a few nights back and have slowly been training myself to know all 197 countries. I can now name 160 off the top of my head, 150 if I had that extra martini. Hopefully one day I will be able to remember that Guinea and Equatorial Guinea are two separate countries but until then I will enjoy crying myself to sleep over this failure.
I'm habitually watching the Big Bang Theory
Does this honestly need any explanation?
The light went out in my bathroom and I don't know how to change the bulb so I hung up fairy lights instead.
This morning I woke up in my friends bed to find he had slept on the floor because whenever he would try and hug me I would knee him in the balls.
Good to see I have officially given up human contact.
Ask me how many nights this week I have eaten Tacos.
3 (It's Wednesday...)
The other morning I twerked in front of my mirror just to see if I could.
I couldn't.
The other day I saw a Limo in the Upper East Side and I stood there for five whole minutes waiting for Chuck Bass to come back.
Never came.
The other day I told my father I was becoming a prostitute and he didn't even flinch.
This is what my roommate did to his head the other day.
This is more of his existential crisis then mine but his pain makes me feel a little better about myself and I love embarrassing him so here we are.
I have been applying for jobs based largely on the prospect of there being cute boys there.
Leave me alone.
SORRY NOT SORRRRRRRY.
