TRANSIT motherfucker!

It seems for every review I get done I get about 3 new requests.
Ahhhh!
I mean I love it, but I drink waaay too much to keep up.
Luckily, like Bowie, 'I know when to go out... I know when to stay in, get things done.' and tonight is one of those nights to stay in.
Also, it's really cold out and I have no liquor.
Mrrrh.
I should be reviewing something I'm under a little more pressure to get done but I have been itching to listen to this Transit album I was sent not long ago, so fuck it.
Plus Keep This To Yourself is kind of the perfect album to pig out to with my food court pad thai and my chocolate milk... all alone... in bed.
[The people who served my food are starting to recognize me. I think I need to learn how to cook.]
Regardless, I'm enjoying the shit out of this night right here.
With this album right hurrr.
I'm lame for Transit, big whoop.
They're my kind of emo, which is not so emo, but still kind of emo.
With the vocal play it is kind of reminding me of a nowadays Taking Back Sunday, but without being so much of a pussy about it and not quite sLITT-your-wrists-worthy.
And I absolutely love the collective vocals on the album.
It's like totally hot.
WAIT, hold up, I think they're singing to me, literally.. what's that you're singing? Did I get lost?
Why yes, yes I did... IN YOUR SEX APPEAL!
Or whatever.
I think the thai spices are making me high.
Or the weed.
... one of the two for sure.
But their music is pretty hot.
I want to rock out to it. Bob my head up and down N shit.

Hot.

This is the worst review ever. This music is making me giddy hyper for some reason. And happy, even though it's all emo-like. I'm not even making fun of it in that statement, seriously, I love it I just can't help myself right now... and apparently don't know how to use the 'delete' button.
I think it's resorting me back to my high school mind frame, and I'm gaining high school energy points because of it.
I want to know all the words so I can sing along in the shower, or something more frequent.

Enough with this dribble.
On a scale of flaccid to boner your dick just split right through your boxers. And then you cried about it. But not THAT hard.

I'm Sarah. I do what I want.