I have small hands. When I extend for a shake, people go cross-eyed, like they’ve put on someone else’s glasses. Their brains are desperately readjusting the zoom settings. But it’s true: I couldn’t palm a walnut.
For #selfCare I just spent an hour researching/calculating the probability that the skunk who waddled past my Thinking Tree yesterday evening was the same one I almost bumped into at a nearby soccer field while watching lightning storm in July. Only 31% sadly
Me: *holds head in hands* Why am I like this? Why am I so bad?... Roommate: It’s okay, man. You can’t talk to yourself like that… Me: I know—who would talk to themselves like this, except a SHITTY IDIOT?… *both return to playing Fall Guys*
1. Check Southwest boarding pass 2. See “B43” 3. Slowly begin to panic 4. Start screaming over and over, JUST HOW WIDE IS THIS PLANE?? while assaulting check-in clerk with ergonomic horseshoe neck pillow
no. I won’t do it. I REFuse to tell the barista they’re out of toilet paper. She’ll know I have to wipe my ass. She’ll know that I shit. I don’t think so muchacho. That goes with me to the grave
What r u supposed to do when petting a friends cat and a clump of hair comes off in your hand? cast into wind? Dirty looks. Like, am i just supposed to put it in my pocket? That’ll look like I’m secretly collecting it for some sort of weird homemade doll of their cat. which i am
Just when you think you're being safe a sweaty hamster-looking 12yr-old busts in your office building and paws at the only bottle filling station so he can lick at the nozzle and return to his skateboard, nourished, ready for more kickflips.