I bet it’s so annoying for all my friends to constantly have to reassure me they don’t secretly hate me. If I were friends with me, I would totally secretly hate me for it. So you see,
Idr when I did finally learn the truth, but I do know that six-year-old me would've been devastated to learn it's called a "rectum," and not a "poonis."
Wild how an entire generation of boomers got the idea that the solution to unreasonable prices is somehow just "never stop hassling service workers, who have no say in anything;" and not "organize against the ruling class, who intentionally keep things this way."
You ever have that moment during a job interview where you realize that them interviewing you is basically the career equivalent of giving your younger sibling an unplugged video game controller, so now you just gotta keep going through the motions & pretend we're all having fun?
Quit telling me to believe in myself. I couldn't "positive mental attitude" my way out of a wet paper bag with perforations. We're gonna need to find a different solution to my problems.