Truth.

I often have rando ideas for my rando blog at times that are inconvenient for me to elaborate on them in my overly-verbose, "Sparkle Darling" way, so I will usually write little notes to myself on the "yellow pad" on my iPhone. 90% of the time, when I refer back to my notes, I have no f-ing idea what the hell I was thinking or what I was going to write. Believe me, if I was able to post as often as I have the sparkley thoughts, I would be the next Perez for sure.

Anyway, in a swirling tizzy of champagne bubbles and new " Glee" induced giddy inspiration, last night I wrote one such note. And thanks to the awesomeness of auto-correct, my "note to bloggy self" was not only hilarious, but also impossible to improve upon, in my opinion. I didn't change or spell check any of this shiz (obvi!) before posting below. I'm sure you'll agree it is both enlightening and raucously funny.

Behold:

Title: For My Irish Peeps
Lepta han=leprechan . Welcome to the basement. big love smash glee recap.
Animal print Hummel. Rubbing ton poop*.
Ps- haves cocktail, ask siri and the cloud, and maybe you'll get it. Truth.

(*Editor's Note: I DO know this was supposed to reference the "Lord Tubbington's candy bar poop" storyline from Glee. However-anyone who knows and loves me knows I do NOT engage in poo talk. EVER. Like NEVER EVER.)

I mean, seriously. Seriously, you guys! How could I improve upon genius like this? Jesus. Please don't call Candy Finnegan from Intervention on me. Not yet, at least. Besides, I'm much more of a Jeff VanVonderan girl, myself.


Truth.