A few years ago I had just driven out of the parking lot at the grocery store when I pulled to the side of the road to tweet something like: “The sound of all of the food rolling around in the back of my car as I drive home from the grocery store is responsible for at least 80% of the murders I commit.” Not that exactly, Susan, because you’re about to point out that a few years ago twitter only allowed 140 characters and that sentence is 161 characters long. I SAID SOMETHING LIKE. This post may contain a capital letter or two given what a relatively shitty week it has been, so if you even think about counting out characters or sending me an email telling me that I should have treated my most recent depressive episode with herbs and fucking essential oils I might just have to come over there and stitch a cactus to your asshole with a rusty needle I found on the sidewalk outside of Big Lots.
