Dear Princess Cell Division,
You know I respect you more than I respect myself (even if that’s not saying much), so don’t take offense when I say please never invite me to Blueblood’s birthday ever again. I was two “my aunties” away from asking one of the griffon ambassadors to chew my ears off for me. I’ve made golems out of mud who were more fun to talk to, and they could only gurgle. And you know the funniest thing? He is somehow—somehow—more socially oblivious than I am. If my friends have to put up with a fraction of that kind of shit from me, I truly don’t deserve them.
The only good thing about the party was the abundance of alcohol, but looking back, I’m glad I didn’t get too smashed. I wouldn’t trust Blueblood with a drunk me. Hell, I barely trust me with a drunk me. If I was writing this myself, this is the part where I would mention the time I tried getting it on with one of WinRAR’s mannequins. Sadly, Anon is writing for me, so you’ll never hear about that incident.
Your ten-proof tap water,
Tweineken