Full Credits

Stats & Data

September 29, 2017

Last night, I shook my body parts to a plethora of latin beats…. for a while… a long while… probably longer than the amount I spend being productive at work. Anyways, after sweating a hefty amount of pheromones into each other’s skin pores (probably enough to create CHANEL #6), I decided it was time to leave the salsa-infused steam room and call myself an Uber-pool. While sliding into the fake-leather seats, the blonde drunkard bimbo in the back seat turns to me. I can tell she is trying to focus her escaping eyeballs into one single point of focus as she looks at me. As she opens her mouth, I can tell she is employing some gangsta tactics (“Too Cool For School”) as she tries to spit her bacteria at me in a regular manner. Using my pheromone-infused hair as a shield, I sit unfazed. She asks “So, how was the strip club?” How dare she! What a dirty mind! I immediately respond “What stiff club?” After multiple attempts at bathing me in her streptococcus, she finally blurts out: “I thought we picked you up from a strip club” OH! Well then. Perhaps she assumed my shapely physical features were being used to pay for my cover at the salsa club. Or perhaps she saw the herd of 5 men standing in my vicinity and assumed we were indeed connected by 6 degrees of separation and at some point, we had all consummated our love. After several additional attempts at sitting straight in this fake-leather seat, it was with great sadness that the Uber driver announced that she had reached her destination. Farewell, friend! Hope she brings as much joy into your life as she did mine. #shewillopenyourchakras

Drunk Much? What Happens In Uber, Stays In Uber