Shopping list

I just went to CVS. Here’s what I got:

1) Heating pad

2) Bathroom cleansers (various)

3) Peanut butter M&Ms

4) Feminine hygiene products (various)

5) Pain relievers (two kinds, one specifically targeted for “irritability”)

Who wants to mess with me? Who? You? I didn’t think so.

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4 thoughts on “Shopping list

  1. ok…1) jennie, you rule. 2) i still can't find peanut butter m&ms anywhere…still…even at cvs (i live in nh…maybe that's the problem) 3) it's my birthday right now and i'm hammered 4) heating pads are a female necessity period (…get it?) 5) did i mention it's my birthday? i'm too drunk to pass out 'cause i'm getting the spins 6) i just made out with a random dude tonight…'cause it's my birthday 7) i turned 31 tonight and everyone thinks i'm 22-25 years old…rock on. 8) that's all i got right now. oh yeah 9) this is my first anonymous entry. 10) and finally, please don't make fun of me…i'm drunk 11) don't even get me started on bathroom cleansers. bon soir

  2. If you can't find them in stores, you must order peanut butter M&Ms on the Internet. Seriously, you can't menstruate without these suckers. They're like little blobs of heaven and they immediately counteract progesterone madness.

  3. As long as you didn’t go to CVS wearing one of those crochet ponchos. I’m so sick of those fucking ponchos.

    p.s.: I saw a fat, mustachioed forty-something dadster wearing an ironic, mesh-backed John Deere cap. No, he wasn’t some yokel visiting from out of town, he seriously thought he was cool. This sighting marks that trend definitively over.

    p.p.s.: Flip down the fucking collars on your fucking polo shirts you frat-boy fucks; the eighties fucking sucked.

  4. As long as you didn’t go to CVS wearing one of those crochet ponchos. I’m so sick of those fucking ponchos.

    p.s.: I saw a fat, mustachioed forty-something dadster wearing an ironic, mesh-backed John Deere cap. No, he wasn’t some yokel visiting from out of town, he seriously thought he was cool. This sighting marks that trend definitively over.

    p.p.s.: Flip down the fucking collars on your fucking polo shirts you frat-boy fucks; the eighties fucking sucked.

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