Let's get some things straight before we start this.
We did not choose this. We did not willingly agree to become angry, scathing, acerbic assholes. It just happened. New York happened. And boys happened. And work happened. And getting royally shit on everyday happened.
And therefore, we cannot be held responsible for our actions.
They say Manhattan is the center of the world. Well, the world is harsh fucking place. So it naturally follows suit that this gem of an epicenter lives up to the title...by regularly acting like a trashy little cunt. She's that girl at the bar: an enigma in sequins, equal parts alluring and dangerous. She's gorgeous, thrilling and definitely worth plowing through your paycheck on $15 cocktails. But then you get her home and realize she's a spitter.
Yep. That's our home. Our home is a spitter.
So as two young(ish) ladies brought together by Craigslist and bonded for life by near eviction, we have our fair share of anger bubbling up inside us. What was once lost on erratic workday IMs can now be found here for all to read and love and share and who are we kidding, no one gives two shits about us.
But in case anyone gives even one shit, we will be here. Our constant stream of disasters are simply too ridiculous not to post, and we only hope there are fellow assholes out there who feel our rage...or at the very least feel pity.
We'll take what we can get.