In this week’s edition of ‘oh fuck I’m turning into an old person’ I ordered a shrimp dinner from culvers and have been making my way through a box of Raisin Bran
Humiliation is walking into a bike shop to get a new helmet and hoping you can fit into a kids L because it’s cheaper and proportionally, it would make sense that you can. The sad part? It’s too big. You walk out of the shop, sulking, with a kids small in hand
Our paths finally cross, my eyes are straight forward as to present myself with a shred of dignity. One of the tweens says ‘I like your shoes’ and I, without missing a beat say ‘thank you’ and walk away, my grin slowly protruding like Squints after he ‘kissed’ Wendy Peffercorn
I’m walking on Downer, trying to pretend like my shoulder isn’t about to pop off due to having a 1/2 gallon jug of milk and a sack of flour in my tote, also carrying a six pack of toilet paper and a box of swiffer dusters in my bare hands…
There are two tweens walking in the other direction, Starbucks in hand, one is wearing a school uniform. They’re looking at me, I’m quaking in my glossier sweatshirt…I divert my eyes, knowing damn well they’re probably making fun of me…
Not one tweet grazed my feed about yesterday’s wordle word. I’ve never been more pleased by humanity. Has the age old complaint about how a word sounds finally come to an end?
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, the greatest remedy for retail therapy is a library card. You get the satisfaction of coming home with stuff without the cost
Dear Santa, this Christmas I would like a hazmat suit. For protection against Omicron, you ask? No. To protect me from the god awful scent that Goodwill drenches everything that passes through their donation doors in