That Shit Cray

Let's play a little game today.
The name of the game is brought to you by Kim K's baby daddio, Kanyeezus, and Mr. Sasha Fierce.

Everyone is excited for Fall.
I live in Florida. Fall means nothing more than Halloween and Thanksgiving around these parts, and if you weren't around here last year, just know I have a Thanksgiving curse and so the holiday doesn't do anything for me.

That shit cray.

That red headed bitch in the Wendy's commercials.

I'd like to give her eleventy billion paper cuts and then trip her in public. She's bossy and I just really don't like her. Get off your high horse, woman. Your burgers will never trump my beloved double cheeseburgers, ya heard?

That shit cray.

People writing vague novels on their Facebook status.

Cut. It. OUT. I need this madness to stop and for these novel writers to start a blog or, better yet, make a friend. Facebook is not the place to word vomit, capeesh? Capeesh.

That shit cray.

Snitching Snapchat.

Why does Snapchat have to tell the whole world who your top Snap buds are? I smell a lot relationship failures stemming from this little feature. Yo Snapchat, that shit's gotta go and also...

That shit cray.

Prude iPhone.

I swear, if my iPhone tries to change a certain explicative I enjoy saying to "duck" one more time, I'm going to throw it against a wall. Stop trying to make "what the duck" happen, iPhone. It isn't going to happen. Get with my potty mouth already. 

That shit cray.

Loud mofo on the phone right now.

I'm trying to write a damn blog post and this hooker in the office next to me sounds like she's talking to someone with a hearing impairment. Can. Not. Think. Yo hooker, shut your pie hole! 

That shit cray.

This post is starting to feel really stupid so I'm going to end it here.

Come back tomorrow and lets #backthatazzup, k? Because that shit is not cray. It's fun. For everyone. Lord, what the duck is wrong with me?

Adios amigos.