#ezrapasta

guess i was too translate

((I dont hate Taylor pls but))

The pain in his head was devastating. It was just a goddamn pizza in vodka flavor, Ezra thought, and now those headaches were killing him. His lips also felt weird. He rolled out of bed, landing on some food from last week, and a soft pile of hair which was probably Rostam or a dead dog. It took him some time to get himself on his feet, before heading to the bathroom. The carpet under his feet felt warm and very comfortable for another nap, and was probably still the dead dog. When he reached the bathroom and looked into the mirror, he almost fell backwards into the bathtub, squeaking. His luxurious, black, short, elegant Ralph Lauren hair had turned into a mop of spaghetti colored blond strands of hair. Upon further examination he noticed, that his face wasn't normal looking too. His lips were full, in a brightly red color, probably lipstick, which explained the weird feeling on his lips. His eyes were framed with a deep black perfect eyeliner line, and the mascara was applied so heavily that his lashed felt like 5 kg each. His eyes widened in horror as he noticed the small stubbles on his chest, probably being breasts. “I can’t be that drunk!” he screamed in agonizing pain, his headaches even worse now. “THIS CAN’T BE!” He ripped out his phone from his pocket, calling the first number in his contacts. “Hi Ez, why are you-“ “BAIO I AM TAYLOR SWIFT!”