There are some things I need to get off my chest.
THIS IS NOT A FORTUNE.
Completely enraged. NOT a fortune. Not even a fact. Because anyone who has been with me to Six Flags can tell you that I am quite the opposite of courageous and just a quick peruse over this week’s posts will prove that I am not even slightly optimistic. #TRYAGAIN.
Great job on the Beijing beef and chow mein though. Keep up the good work.
I suffer from cashier connection conversation envy. Confused? Well CALM DOWN. I will explain.
You know how it’s a so you go to Target? YEAH. Well you waltz in there, gather your items, spend a solid 13 minutes in the dollar section debating with yourself as to whether or not you really NEED the set of Easter themed gift bags and a mini lint roller (because OMG A DOLLAR?! SO TINY AND CONVENIENT!) You finally make your way to the checkout with only one person in front of you (holla!). You start to load your tampons, clearance bikini, and 7 mini lint rollers on the conveyer belt like thingy when you overhear the cashier chatting with the customer in front of you. They’re all…
Cashier: “You know, it’s always something with him. It’s like, you’re my brother! You’re my family, but I can’t keep doing this for you, you know?’
Target Go-er: “Oh, I KNOW that’s right.”
Cashier: “And then I told HIM, you can’t live your life just expecting people to cater to you! You gotta get out there and work for it!”
Target Go-er: “Sweetie, some people NEVER change!”
Cashier: “You feel me?! It’s like, that’s it’s the same old thing, time after time.”
Target Go-er: “Well, I’ll be praying for you. You just keep lookin up.”
Cashier: “Alright, you have a good one now, and enjoy that rotisserie chicken!”
AND Y’ALL-IT’S LIKE THEY’RE BEST FRIENDS. By the time the clearly awesome customer has walked away, it’s your turn, and you’re completely hyped up for your sure to be life-changing conversation with your red polo clad soulmate.
Cashier: “Hi, how are you doing today?”
Me: “HIIIII! GOOD! HI!”
*silence* *crickets* *coughs* *awkward combination of all of the aforementioned*
Me: “Sooooooo, you have a brother?!!?!?? That’s SO cool! Me too! ”
Me: “It’s just, you know, UMMMM. Small world!?”
Cashier: “Excuse me?”
Me: “Never mind.”
Performance anxiety. It’s a real thing.
I believe it to be a proven freaking fact that if you find something to be hilarious via text message you MUST convey your laughter with a MINIMUM of three “HAs”. Two “HAs” simply won’t cut it.
Two HAs = Haha = courtesy smile
Three HAs = Hahaha = actual laughter.
The number of HAs used is DIRECTLY related to how funny you find something. I thought that was understood.
He doesn’t think I’m hilarious.
She totally thinks I’m hilarious. And even better than that, she gets me. #soulmates
(Side note: I literally had to scroll back SEVEN WEEKS in our text message exchange to find one appropriate enough to use as an example. Yes, balls jokes was the MOST appropriate. Because basically 97%of our conversations consist of profound lewdness or very person-specific shit talking.)
I judge people based on what they drive. But hold on, not in the way you probably think. Unlike most people, the shittier your car is, the more I respect you. That’s just the way I am. And it works the other way too. I’ll be driving down the street, and a car will pull up beside me and I’m all, “PSSHHH! Look at this big shot over here in his Nissan. MUST BE NICE JACKASS!”
(Sorry to all my Nissan driving friends. Love you Syd. You fancy-pants, you.)
Perhaps it had something to do with having to drive this stud around for a year and a half. Where I'm from, when something breaks, we don't fix it. We just pretend that it works and carry on with business as usual.
This is an actual photo. Of my actual car. That I actually drove. No, I don’t want to talk about it.
I think songs that feature people breathing are HOTT. (Sorry mom.)
You totally know what I’m talking about. Nothing gets me riled up like a little heavy breathin’. I mean, JT panting in Rock Your Body? Britney in Slave 4 U?!
If you close your eyes, and listen real close, you’ll be able to hear her breathing. If you can’t hear it then you aren’t trying hard enough.
I actually heard a girl in the Target dressing room a few days ago, singing Slave 4 U to herself and I FREAKED OUT. And then I panicked, because it really felt like I was being presented with a huge life opportunity. We clearly had so much in common. But what was I supposed to do? Wait outside her dressing room for her to emerge and then pounce on her and be all, “HEY HI I LOVE BRITNEY TOO DO YOU WANNA GO GET FRO-YO?”
Well, I feel a lot better now.