In which we locked another woman in our closet and made her contribute, and contribute she did. We think this is a solid tip.

In which we are again a little bit sozzled but I DO NOT NEED YOUR JUDGEMENT, PATRICE. It was Christmas time, and I gave Jas a beautiful snow globe with Joey Jeremiah. Joey Jeremiah is the only thing I know about Canada. We decided that fake laughing probably also leads to fake orgasms.

In which we discuss the merits of buying a convertible to trap, I mean, catch a lover. Please let us know if you’ve tried this successfully, or unsuccessfully.

In which we were probably very drunk because there is some slurring, but it’s a good fun time. We talk through how this could possibly work as a way to get a man. Or a woman. Because it’s 2018, except right now when it’s 2020.

In which we decided that this is probably a very very bad idea.

In which we were totally unsure about how this would work, so we brought in some penised experts to mansplain it to us.  They didn’t do a great job and we still aren’t sure but here it is.

In which we have a whole closet of amazing women, and I’ve yet again had way too much gin to have intelligible conversation. I apologise for all references to Gal Gadot, scissoring, and for our failure to edit the mess of sound that is five women in a closet talking over one another. Namaste.

You watch *your* fucken’ language, man. In which we obviously DO NOT watch our language because fuck you, you’re not my real dad.

In which we both agreed that this was garbage and you should absolutely NOT get a sunburn because we know it’s bad for you. It’s also only 16 minutes because we were 1)ginned in for the evening and 2)not able to even pretend this was a viable option for man catching.

In which we have had 6 or so gins and ultimately determined that your personality is the thing you should wear differently in the office. This is ideal from both an existential and a HR perspective.  Also, I have just recycled an image because fuck you, do what I want.