I mean, can a bitch hop on one of those banana boat things? An inner-tube? Some type of shit?
Here's Jennifer Lawrence driving Amy Schumer around on a GD jet ski, gallivanting around like a couple of Ariels, while I went to jury duty today. (Also, how long can I milk that annoying situation? Just today, or what?) I hate watersports (ZING-A-THON!) and even I want to get in on this action.
And this wasn't the only activity of the day.
Of course, Jen and her tiny, baby-sized belly button are at the top of the pyramid. If I were part of these festivities, I would mos def be the homegirl lying in the front, and not because I was wearing a knee brace and just got a fierce-ass perm. I just hate participation.
Actually, I wouldn't even be on the boat. If Amy Schumer and Jennifer Lawrence called me on a three-way call, one from a phone that was shaped like a pair of lips and one from a clear plastic phone with colorful wires inside, and personally invited me to go frolic in the sea, I would be like, "Sorry, bitch, I'm watching Judge Judy in a room darkened with blackout curtains." And then I would shove more white cheddar popcorn into my pie hole. Because that is my actual life.
Let's just try to end this on a positive note.
SOS, send more popcorn.