Irony

The brutal truth:

How are you? Wait, I actually don't care.

Excuse me as I leave to go to the bathroom, my real intent is to strut by that much hotter guy over there.

That's a nice name I'll never remember.

Sorry, returning eye contact must have presented this situation.

Keep talking, we're creating a game in front of my boyfriend.

How do I know you again? I apologize, you have to be working on Wall Street or have remarkable features to jog my memory.

Hi, I'm really alarmed. Do we all have a shallow sense of manners? We could really care less about people that have nothing to offer us. It's pretty pathetic, so I encourage you to not sit down to think about it. Let's be honest, you should really beat yourself up over how we aren't facebook friends. How do we get ourselves back to being decent human beings? I'd rather have a confusing, blunt personality that spews of hidden meaning than live in a fantasy world being puppet mastered into acquiring best friends due to heavy drinking.

Dear Spencer, Gregory, Kyle, Dustin, Andrew & Maurice:

Although we had a fun night talking about your new car and flirting as you so nicely encouraged the bartender to keep filling my glass without asking if I wanted to continue indulging in such liquor, thank you for swiftly pushing me to the realization that you are just another "Mr. Right Now." You are filling my time as I gleefully drape in the Manhattan scene of which I adore more than Pinkberry after a long day of work. I wanted a reason to go out in my new studded apparel that shockingly wasn't worn to entice you but to only satisfy me. If you want your witty, trying way too hard text message to be returned within the proceeding weeks, please put forth the effort so mindless conversation that only proves you are smarter than a crazed baboon doesn't happen again.

Peace, Love, & Red Stripe

Bre