The thing no one tells you is how much you’ll hate them most days

Your rage is butter. Your bitterness a warm crusty baguette. Slather it in the honey of your wrath and stuff a too big chunk of it into a throat that is choking anyway on all the unsayable things. Chew chew chew and chew…

To my knowledge, no one has ever gotten her own sister pregnant, but when she was sixteen and we all found out she was, I blamed myself. It was the firecrackers.

You always wanted to know: So, what happens when you eat fourteen corn dogs?

First off, you win. Even if the dude next to you–who only ate nine corn dogs–is declared the “official” winner of the contest because of some lame technicality, because beers count as points.

I’m a tripper tapper.