The name is Rachael and mild bitching about minor inconveniences is my game. I'm old enough to vote and drink, but not old enough to join the House of Representatives. I watch more television shows and movies than is healthy and my musical taste is sporadic at best. I fancy myself as a writer and a singer.
And unfortunately, I'm laboring under the delusion that I am witty.
What I Look Like.
a drake-themed party where we listen to drake and watch old episodes of degrassi and play musical chairs to “anaconda” but most importantly we just act very kind to each other in a way that is sometimes almost weird
Companion: I am so rubbish.
RTD-written Doctor: No, you’re not! You’re brilliant! Remember that wonderful thing you did! Remember that special skill you have that nobody else has? Don’t put yourself down! Where would I be without you, eh?
Moffat-written Doctor: You are bossy, also a control freak, a narcissist, a game player, needy, and also your skirt is just a little too tight.
Companion: Excuse me???
me: what’s for dinner?
her: *spreads her legs*
so, did you not cook or ….. cause popeyes closes at 10 and i need to leave now if i’m gon make it.
i hit my coworkers shoulder lightly and he was like “you’re going to make me cry like a girl” and i was like “what’s wrong with being a girl?” and he was quiet for a moment then he looked into the distance and whispered “the social standards they’re forced to live by”