A twenty-something girl's take on the world.

Too old to know better & too young to give a damn.

B is for basic.

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10 hour shift on my feet – I deserve a foot rub, fo’ free.

Let’s be real, that isn’t going to happen. (cue the sigh)

I guess unwinding with an XL glass of wine will have to suffice.

In today’s news: Wet Seal at the Hamilton mall closed it’s doors. I pity all the basic b*tches, because I don’t know how they will ever survive now.

While we’re on the topic of “basic b*tches” – how many of you gullible gals actually believe The Bachelor is real life? Ok, for those of you saying “omg like totally”, you’re probably going to be single forever. No, not probably… You’re going to die single (lets face it, the truth hurts.)

Now, if you’re reading this post, asking yourself “what’s a basic b*tch?” Well, you’re in luck, because I’m surrounded by them (which practically makes me an expert.)

Basic rolls beautifully off the tongue, doesn’t it? It’s a useful insult. Like trashy, it derives its power from the knowledge that if you can recognize someone or something as basic, you probably, yourself, aren’t it.

If you wear sweat-inducing Uggs with denim cut-offs, you just might be a basic b*tch. If you think “T-Swift” is classic, if you smell like a Victoria Secret store and think your scarf from Forever 21 is “so vintage”, you might want to check yo’self before you wreck yo’self (because girl, you’re basic.)



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