Quotables: Hannah Miet

The problem with Kindles is that they eliminate the joy of winking at older men who are reading Lolita. Kindles, and the fact that I'm not fourteen anymore. Woe.

I bet your heart smells like pleather and sweat.

There are mysterious cookie crumbs in my coat pocket. It's miraculous that I've survived almost 23 years of existence.

I would punch a bum to spend the morning inside of Fiona Apple's voice. Naked, except for a Snuggie.


I have never worn a Snuggie, but I own a Slap Chop. Pointless thought or existential crisis?

I would never really punch a bum.

Coffee somehow got in my nose. I snorted coffee. Brain: take notice. 

This couple reeks of the best hangover cure known to man, and I wonder if I am only switching crutches, hobbling through the pages of this book. I need another coffee before work.

Logistically, and statistically, I have a few more years to be a complete and utter fool and get away with it. Or ten years, if I play my cards right. I really don't want to play my cards right.

I hope I didn't blow it. 

I miss the times before I would drink away hangovers. The earnest "I will never drink again!"s yelled to the heavens. Self-honesty is a wench.

Ow.

"We would like to have sex with you" deadpan: mixed results.

"I want to stab my stiletto into your soul." Too forward?

"I want to be the icepick in your wedding cake."

I'd like to taste your lips again, but I feel like I should be embarrassed about something. Should I be embarrassed about something? 

All's well as long as you're sort-of alive.

-one of my fave bloggers, Hannah Miet