Stop. Just Stop.

Details details

If your book, at any point in time, does this, you have lost me as a reader.

I pulled on my favourite shirt, a pink shirt with cute little white floral designs all over it. I got it last summer, July 21st at 5:36 pm (i know that because i still have the reciept in my purple striped wallet), on my trip to California with my family. It was the first place i went to when i got there.

All their display clothes looked really nice, so i thought I'd check out the store. It was perfect 'cause they were having a sale that day for twenty percent off, and i had just enough money in my wallet for it.

I remember how i was so excited about that shirt that i almost didn't pay for it. Hehe, oops! It looked really nice, and even though there were other colors-black, white, blue, green, yellow, orange, red-, i like this one the best, so that's why i picked it.

OH EM GEE! Did i forget to mention that the cashier was cute? His name is Alex-from Target. Cute name, huh? He gave me his number, too. Eeeep!

Oh, would you look at the time!

Byez! I can't be late for the funeral.

*Sigh*

Details.

Gotta love 'em.

No, but seriously, guys. I don't need five fucking paragraphs telling me about your favourite tee shirt.

That sounds like a you story.

Keep it that way.

Not to sound mean, but who honestly gives a fuck about your shirts' backstory?

I don't.

Hell, you probably don't even give a fuck about that shirt. You just wanted something to talk about.

Like for example;

*conversation dies down*

Me: *laughs* There was this one time *laughs again* i told my friend that she sucks. *giggles* And, guess what she said?

Crickets...

Me: She said *chuckles* but you swallow. BAHAHAHAHA,!

It gets so awkward that even the crickets are quiet.

-.-

Don't be that person, please.

Random fact: i refuse to eat cereal if the milk is poured first.