Yes by McAlmont and Butler

Oh HIYA Martin. Those are some nicely tensed DILF-abs. I hate that I am being this creepy but it’s Wednesday and I’m single and ovulating.

I am a 32-year-old lady woman who had a deeply disappointing one night stand at the weekend and I travelled home the morning after listening to You Oughta Know like a fucking ball of frustrated angst. It was kind of great. #teamalanis #findbettershaggingpartners

That’s a spookily accurate representation of Bennannygate.

Logged in after weeks of sadness at being constantly in the greys just to star this. Bravo my friend, bravo.

I’ve woken up with a Dairy Milk stuck to my face and a McDonald’s World Cup-themed burger, thankfully on separate occasions. Nary a bite was taken out of the burger either, to add insult to injury. Basically, I was a slovenly pisshead in relation to waking up throughout my twenties, and now in my early 30s I’ve slowly…

I had worked for a company for 1 year and when it was drawing near to my contract renewal, I was put on a project with a new senior colleague. I didn’t have a lot of time for his flirtatious shtick but continued working with him, just staring blankly when he would try and say something inappropriate. One day he comes…

On The Wedding Day of My Dear Sister, her new father-in-law lurched forward in an affectionate and drunken manner to tell her how beautiful she looked. The lurching was done with a pint of Guinness in his hand, which of course ended up all over the front of my sister's gown. She was fuuurious until she reached a…

Totes awks. The only thing that would have really been the awkward cherry on top of the cake would have been Ms. B. Spears.

This is life. She is life. Fleek. On fleek. On point. Yassss.

That is a terrible headline.

Jesus Christ, she is delightful.

I feel all weird now. Somebody point a power hose at me.

Totes awks. Can't cope.

The article made me have a mild weep and all the lovely, supportive and emoshunul comments are making have a full on bawl. STOP BEING SO NICE TO EACH OTHER OR I'LL CRY ALL THE WATER OUT OF MY BODY.

Oh Lord, waves of gross gently lapping at my feet. The darkness in me wants to have a lick of that hot dog though. I think the supreme wrongness might taste like a right.

Why do I read these things on a Sunday night with the wine-fear buzzing around my back and the Monday work-fear pressing down on my furrowed brow. Why can't I just go watch Gossip Girl or some shit? No, I have to indulge primal fears of a lonely death. I must be awesome at parties...

I was totally expecting that to be about that dude who sings with J-Lo. I am not disappointed that it is about a dog. Sweet.

See this makes my heart do sad tingles because I adore Johnny Flynn and all his music. This, however, looks like a steaming turd sprinkled with piss droplets and smothered in fart gas. Go listen to his album "A Larum" and preserve that beauty instead of this beastly mess.

So full from all the gratuities in mah belleh.