note to self: march madness, weekend edition


1. you married a tar heel, a man whose veins run a very specific shade of light blue; a man who despises with all that he is a very different and unattractive shade of darker blue. next time, do not tell him that 'it's just a game.' note to self: to him, this is grounds for a swift and immediate divorce.
2. even after your attempt at proving me wrong last night and as was made very obvious this morning, i'd like to remind you that you are no longer in college. although your impressive flip cup skills have remained stellar, your tolerance for drinking copious amounts of cheap beer has not. note to self: next time the opportunity arises to be flip cup champion, politely bow out, keep your ass parked on the sofa drinking your anchor steams, and call it a day.

3. one would think that after countless bachelor parties over the course of your relationship, you'd learn to not feel the need to ask questions. don't you know that curiosity kills the cat? of course you don't. or you choose to forget. you're also a stubborn ass and apparently a fan of self-induced panic attacks. note to self: with regards to bachelor parties that occur out of the country- or, just bachelor parties in general- ignorance is bliss.

4. after eating nothing processed and juicing for months, did you really think that eating velveeta queso dip with jarred salsa was going to be a good idea? note to self: you're an idiot and you deserve what your stomach decides to do to you today.

5. i know you think you're all witty and quick and charmingly funny and everything, but you really have your moments of downright idiocy. note to self: when your opponent in flip-cup is someone who you find out later to have played basketball at syracuse, the most original thing you could say to him probably isn't, 'wow, you're really tall.' and his response of, 'wow, i've never heard that before...' should absolutely make you feel like an idiot.



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