Stupid Girl

Some doodles I’ve been doing lately while my cats jump on me in bed. Some are real things I’ve heard, others are just things I imagine someone, somewhere, has said….

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Well, that’s a great non-reason to shoot a guy down, isn’t it?

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I know but that itchy faux fur made in Bangladesh and sold at Target is the bomb!

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I know, grody McGrodertsein, right? Internet stuff is for nerds!

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Because your iPod and your iPhone and your laptop and your TV and your Kindle are fucking useless!

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Girl, are you sure he doesn’t live in the neighborhood?

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And I could go get a late night snack at Arby’s any time I want. But, just because I can, doesn’t mean I should.

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Yeah. You basic.

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I know, living a pedestrian existence every weeknight is some straight-up Thug Lyfe!

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Yeah, you should pack your designer handbags up and go out to Cody, Wyoming. I heard Jackson Pollock lives there.

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FML

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I think you meant something else, girl, but if that’s how it makes you feel when a dude won’t stop texting, well… I guess I still don’t understand.

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I know, right? I heard that shit is what gave Morrissey cancer!

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Nah, You drunk and have a headache. It ain’t the grape skins.

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Bitch why are you always asking me? You have a phone, call and ask!

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He said that place is real, and it’s dope! I heard Kanye bought a cabin.

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