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….


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


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


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


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


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


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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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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