PSFU request: What are you like in real life?

Autobiography time, motherfuckers.

I am a 24 year old female and the proud owner of a sharp tongue, quick wit, and 0 out of 9 sexually transmitted diseases. I like interjecting sexual anecdotes and references into my tirades because I have the maturity level of an adolescent boy.

My closet looks like baby gap for hookers, and I have a propensity to overspend the laughable amounts of capital I briefly claim possession over.

I dislike my job, mostly because I have a hard time taking orders from people that have cranial hemispheres the size of peanut halves. But I manage to work diligently, as I am saving up money for grad school and to further my collection of fetus-sized whore clothing. 

My itunes collection mirrors that of a hipster, but I didn’t have the affluent and uncomplicated upbringing necessary to cultivate a superiority complex and an incurable bout of suburban rage. 

I am educated, articulate, and will rub that in your face whenever and however I see fit, but on most days I try to be humble about it. My hobbies range from vegetating to surfing, and of course writing hate mail to Ann Coulter. I have no routines or habits, because I am insufferable and enjoy making my own life as difficult as possible. 

I am constantly plotting something at all times. I have an overactive imagination, paired with an abundance of insight. I would make an excellent detective, as I am impeccably observant and partial to donuts. Consequently, I’d also make an excellent obese criminal. 

I am generally well-mannered until I drink tequila, in which case I turn into a rapist. I am very comfortable in my own skin, thanks to many years of latent athleticism, mild eating disorders and week-long drug binges. (kidding, mostly) I like the color glitter, skinny dipping at the beach, and making furniture with my staple gun. The only place my neurosis surfaces, is in my compilation of desktop post-its. I can play music by ear, and cook food by taste, but refuse to do either. I sign the ‘for’ section of my checks as “indentured servitude”, because I like to worry bank tellers. 

I am actually not an asshole at all, but I do enjoy writing like one. If I acted like I wrote, I’d be a bajillionaire by now. Be thankful little plebes that my actual ego hasn’t amassed to the size of my psfu ego, or the multiverse would be my bitch.