Coffeebration

Watching the Hurricane Katrina news on television, I can’t help that I still find those southern accents quite funny. They pronounce Louisiana “Looziana” where as I always said “Laweeziana”. And New Orleans is “New Orlinz” and I say “New Orleenz”. It makes me think about this girl in high school from Texas. In 7th grade we ate lunch at 10:10am. Yeah it sucked, but our cafeteria was small and the 7th graders got the undesirable lunch time slot. Anyways, we loved to ask her “Hey what time is lunch?” cause she would respond “Duh its at Tin Tin”. And we also made fun of the way she said cement pond because she would pronounce it “see-ment pond”. I don’t even know why the heck anyone was talking about cement ponds back then, what the heck is a cement pond anyways? My coworker who is a few years older than me grew up in Texas but she doesn’t even have a hint of a southern accent. Apparently she has northernized herself. I just want her to bust out in a southern accent so I can laugh, but nope …. she sounds like she belongs right here in PA. Although when I moved to Ohio for a whole three months, apparently I developed some kind of odd accent. I didn’t know there was an Ohio accent, but a lot of people over there were from Michigan and Indiana, so maybe it was like a central US accent. I never noticed it but when my parents came to visit they asked what the heck was wrong with me. I did develop the tendency to say “rhullercoaster” but really thats not so dramatic.

I’ve already learned that its still cool to say “dude” constantly since I’ve heard at least five college girls going “dude oh my God” in the last few days. I used to say “dude” constantly. I think I picked it up from my friend Ashley, but I’m not sure. Probably just cause everyone else said it. Now I mostly hang out with old people at work so I don’t really say “dude” or “like oh my God” anymore. At least I don’t think I do. And if I do its definitely not excessive because I used to catch myself saying those things all the time and I could actually hear how dumb I sounded but couldn’t make myself stop.

Don’t think I’m not unique though. I have had many phrases in the past that I used excessively without influence. They were all mine! Such as “I swallowed a fish and it farted in my throat”, “you smell like a gerbil”, “i feel like poop on a stick”, and the list goes on. Poop on a stick might not be original, but I guarantee the first two are. I still like to say “you smell like a gerbil”. I don’t say it at work though. I have to be professional and use words such as “significant dollars”, “enclosed please find”, and “finalizing the details for our new initiative”. At work, everything is an initiative, and everything is significant. Sometimes I want to rip out tongues so I never have to hear either word again. My boss totally overuses significant. I think I’m going to get on her computer and put “significant” into the Microsoft Word replacement thing so everytime she types it, it will change to poop, tangerine, or monkey feces. Heh, that would be funny. I mean she already swears her computer is possessed since she can never save or print, or copy and paste. Yet, when I drag my ass in there it works fine. I think someone needs to go back to Computers 101. So if it happened, she would just think its a virus, since everything is a virus.

Words are great, aren’t they. I just managed to write a whole page about them. Give me a topic, any topic and I can ramble on about it forever. It’s great, isn’t it?

So, to my surprise, www.ihatemen.com is real and its funny as hell. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the dating horror stories. After reading them I think I have concluded that the number #1 sign that a guy has lost interest is his knack for making up ridiculous stories or just neglecting to call you for weeks at a time. I thought that this was something that most women already knew ….. but I guess when you are in love its just tough to see the light. But if its only been like two dates, come on. Who wants to be with a coward like that anyways although I have to admit that I’ve probably done the same thing. Face it girls, its a fact …. guys are pussy cowards and would rather string girls along until the end of time rather than to having to actually break it off. They’ll just continue giving lame excuses until their face turns blue. So after reading this, I have been inspired to compile my dating horror stories. But since I ramble I’m just going to list all of my relationships that lasted more than two days … and I’m going to try REAL hard to stay focused here.

Mr. A: Met him in high school marching band in 7th grade. My friend had a huge crush on him but he liked me and I guess I wasn’t such a good friend. Anyways, he invited me to go along with him and his parents to see some kind of symphony that ended up being the most boring thing in the world. We never actually kissed but he tried to stick his hand down my pants while we were sitting together on the band bus, covered with a blanket. I pushed him away and he never really talked to me again.

Mr B: Met him in 8th grade. He was the older brother of a friend of mine and I thought he was cute. So as it usually goes, word got out that I thought he was cute and he decided to ask me on a date. My dad dropped us off at the mall and we went and ate at McDonald’s. After such a wonderful dining experience, we walked across the street towards the movie theater and he stopped right in front of the grocery store and kissed me. Yep, my very first real kiss was in the parking lot of a grocery store. We went to the movies and saw “Dumb and Dumber”. The date was ok and we continued to see each other for about two months. During Valentines Day and I went all out and bought him this really fancy card, two bags of his favorite candy and a Pgh Penguins t-shirt. What did I get? I got a plastic rose. Yep, plastic. Anyways, about a month later his friend passed along a note from him that said “I don’t really like you and I’m too good for you, blah blah”. I’m sure I still have that note somewhere, should have burned it. Asshole didn’t even have the guts to break up with me to my face.

Mr. C: We met in 9th grade and I have no idea how because he was two years younger than me and we shared no classes in school. Anyways, we basically just made out a lot and I went to a “Festival of Lights” thing during the Christmas season with his family and he insisted on making out with me in the backseat during the almost two hour trip there. His family was white trash and his dad was encouraging and cheering him on as he made out with me. Anyways, he just turned out to be a liar in just about every respect. He would just say random things that were obviously not true, but he would insist that they were. He wanted to go to the Snowball with me but at that point I was too embarrassed to even be seen with him anymore. His mom bought me a Mickey Mouse corkboard for Christmas but I don’t think our relationship lasted into the New Year. He was a freak that smelled funny and sadly I had to end our relationship.

Mr D: Again, another bad choice during the summer between 9th and 10th grade. He lived on a farm and had a million zits on his face. We got caught by the cops making out in the park. My mom hated him and told me she would disown me if I kept seeing him. My dad called him pizza face. He was really boring. I wrote him a note, breaking up with him after about a month. At least I handed it to him in person.

Mr E: This was the first BIG relationship, as in it lasted close to four years, maybe more … I can’t keep track after all the times we broke up. We met in 10th grade. A friend of a friend kind of thing I guess. We were both in band but we weren’t actually friends. One day my contact came out of my eye and I was attempting to put it back in at my locker and scurry back to class. He approached me, and while standing there with a beat red eye, he asked me to the Snowball. Of course, being the geek I was, I had no real prospects so I said ok. I never really liked him and thought he was a dork, so I basically ignored him for that entire month up until the Snowball. So we went to the Snowball and danced and he asked me to be his girlfriend. Maybe I was horny from all that close dancing, I don’t know, but I said yes and immediately regretted it. For the first few months we just sat in my girlfriends basement and made out a lot. We had nothing to talk about. Eventually something caught on because I fell in love with the asshole and was with him up until my sophomore year of college. We actually broke up several times before that though. The first time we broke up was due to a fight my junior year which led to me cheating on him. Exactly one year later we broke up again after a fight where i attempted to throw a glass ashtray at his head, missing by about an inch as we watched it shatter on my wall. This was right after my high school graduation and it was summer and he went to an Eagle Scout camp for two weeks the day after the fight. I thought it would be a good break so we could both cool off, but the day he returned he was flaunting a new girlfriend around town. I never took the fight that seriously, so of course I was heartbroken. He broke up with her and I took him back during the beginning of my freshmen year of college. Soon after that we broke up again and he started dating another girl. They eventually broke up too, I think she dumped him for smoking too many cigarettes and too much pot. So it was on and off for a while, till I finally gave him the boot after reading an email to on of his ex’s about how he was just using me because I bought him some Blink 182 tickets. Yeah, this one makes me look like a desperate loser. He has a kid now, probably still smokes pot 24/7 …. and I really didn’t need that bag of bones anymore. He looked like a refugee from Ethiopia and I’m better off without him. We had different goals in life anyways.

Mr. F: So I had moved away to Ohio hoping to finally forget about Mr. E. I was working at Cedar Point and was having a great time. There was this kid, really dorky actually … and he liked me for some reason. I felt bad and finally gave in to going on a date with him. He acted so sweet as a friend, but once we went out all he wanted to do was molest me. One night he asked me to sleepover at his apartment so I said ok, especially because it was HOT in my apartment that I shared with 8 other girls, and he had air-conditioning. So I went over and he busted out his stash of condoms and asked me if I would have loud and wild passionate sex with him. He wanted me to “scream so everyone in the building would hear us having sex”. I wasn’t really down with that, so I just said no and decided to go back home. One week later I found out he was screwing some other girl at work, and soon he was going around bragging about how many women he had bagged that summer. So I was glad I got out when I did.

Mr. G: This one is funny too. So my sophomore year of college I met this really sweet guy. He was a friend of a friend and we would party together a lot. My roommate was in love with him, but he seemed to like me … so again back to 7th grade, I decided I didn’t really care if she liked him. My roommate smoked crack anyways, yeah she really did. Anyways, one night I stayed over at my friends house and he was there too. He decided he was too tired to drive home and that he was going to have to share the bed with me. Since I had like a huge crush on him, I did not object. So we fooled around a little bit, just kissing and touching and I left the next day not knowing what to think. That night my friend had a party and he was there. He asked me to be his girlfriend so I said yes. He seemed like the perfect guy and I was doing the happy dance, well for like a day. After that party I did not hear from him for two days. I finally messaged him and asked him to hang out that night but he said he was going to be at work late and then he was going out for drinks with his buddy Joe. Ok, well Joe was gay …. and his bestfriend. I had a hint of suspicion about their friendship, but I wasn’t going to accuse my boyfriend of being gay! He certainly didn’t seem gay, and my friend that hooked us up swore on her life that he was NOT GAY. A few days after that he IM’d me and said he couldn’t be with me anymore because there were a lot of things he had to work out in his life. He wouldn’t elaborate. So we kind of remained friends by acquaintance but that was it. A few months later a bunch of us all went to Canada, got real drunk, and Mr. G made out with my friend Kimmy right in front of me in our hotel room. I was mostly over him by then, and decided that it wasn’t really worth getting pissed about. A few months after that, I found out he had a boyfriend and was just using Kimmy and I to figure out if he could like girls. He’s still on my AIM list and I don’t talk to him, but I know that he’s been in a wonderful relationship with a great guy, Chris, for about two years now. Congrats to him. I still get made fun of to this day about it … hearing “You turned him gay!” Yep, thats me … I have the ability to turn one gay.

Mr. H: So I moved to Pittsburgh in May 2002 after being quite fed up with my other college. I moved in with my pals from high school, enrolled at Pitt and was ready for the fun to start rolling in. I also really wanted to meet some awesome guy because I was sick of being single and all that so I tested out that thing called online dating. Literally within days of being in Pittsburgh I had a prospect who called me on the phone one night after talking online for about 10 minutes. Yeah it wasn’t a gradual thing where we talked for weeks before deciding to talk on the phone, and finally meet. I agreed to meet him the next day, knowing basically nothing about him. I did have a picture though! I did all the things you aren’t supposed to do in the online dating world, such as letting him pick me up at my house (knows where I live), going to his house where he lives alone (hey, he could be a murderer), let him cook me dinner (could have been poisoned). Anyways, it was a bit impulsive for me, but it turned out to be kind of cool because we started dating seriously and had a great relationship. Three years and some months later … not as peachy as it used to be and I don’t even know if we are still together. I’m having this feeling that its turning into Mr. E all over again, but I’m destined to let it happen because of that nasty little thing called love.

The End … for now. I still have 18 letters left before I have to start using numbers or Greek symbols. 😛

Happy Labor Day! This morning I decided to go to 7-11 and get my Labor Day picnic hotdog. I do not have anywhere to go to eat some real hot dogs today, so 7-11 was my alternative. Plus I was craving a hotdog for some reason and I was starving this morning. I haven’t eaten much lately, and most nights I have been going to sleep craving potato salad and candybars. I had this idea that I might lose some weight if I stop eating at 11pm. Forget eating healthy food ….. my new idea is to eat whatever I want, just not a lot of it and not late at night. So far I’ve lost 7 pounds and am now below my weight when I went to the beach …. which by the way was nowhere near the “hot bikini girl” weight. But anyways. So I was quietly getting my hotdog. First I squirted some ketchup and mustard on it, then I lifted the lid on the onion bin to put some onions on it. Suddenly I hear this woman go “THE OTHER WAY! THE OTHER WAY! COME ON, DON’T MAKE A MESS!!!!! FLIP IT OVER … NOW!” I’m like, “Is she talking to me?” So I turn around and she was like “Yeah, you … you are putting the lid on backwards and I don’t have time to clean up after people all day.” I was like “whatever”. All I did was flip the lid up and scoop some onions on. I didn’t mangle the lid or even take it off the whole way and it looked the same as all the other lids so I just shut it and started to walk away. So she scurries over before I can get away and goes “I can’t believe this! You put all of MY lids on backwards! What is wrong with you girl?” I respond “I did not touch your lids. Does it look like I was putting hot peppers, chili, and pickles on my hotdog?” I used the squirters for mustard and ketchup and I only touched the onion lid. She told me I had to fix them and that they were all upside down. The lids have a hole in the corner so the spoon can stick out, and they can probably go either way. So I firmly said “I didn’t touch any of those lids.” SHe was like “Well I know you did because I just changed all of these myself and you are the first person who has been over here!” So I just got irritated and flagged down the manager and told him that his employee was on crack. He went over and told her that the lids were on the right way and maybe the other girl had flipped them over. Then she got a little lesson on lids and how they work. It was pretty freakin’ hilarious. Stupid bitch. So anyways, if you ever go to 7-11 in Oakland, beware of the crackhead lid monitor. She might eat you if you touch her lids.

I’m mad that my fan died last night. It was the middle of the night and I woke up, feeling HOT. Turned on my little metal super-powered not cheap fan. POP POP POP followed by SPARK FIRECRACKER, smoke, smell of burnt metal. It died. At least while I was awake. I’d hate to be woken by a flaming fan. Fire and electricity are two of my biggest fears. Combined together, I’m petrified. So I was awake forever after that, cringing at the thought of the fan coming to life to eat me. Tonight I was finally brave enough to touch it. I took it into the alley. I hope that some poor unsuspecting fanless soul doesn’t take it home, thinking it is a perfectly good discarded fan. It looks that way, but let me tell ya … its not.

Hair on my bathroom floor no matter how much I vacuum, swiffer, get down on my hands and knees and peel it off the floor. I’m shedding like a cat and I’m not so happy about it.

This smell that is becoming a frequent visitor of my apartment. Nasty poop sewage smell. What is it? Do I need to move, quick?

Buying the wrong plugin replacement for my air-freshener. I didn’t know that there was a difference between a Glade Plug-in and an Airwick plugin. Airwick replacements do not fit into the Glad plug-ins. I remedied that buy ripping them apart and dumping the new stuff into the old one that fits. I have more significant things to worry about than what the brand of my Airfreshener is. Refuse to waste $3. I won’t forget the brand next time.

Having a vacuum that doesn’t suck up all of my hair. No matter what I do, there is still hair. My vacuum contains nothing but hair. It makes me wonder if I will be bald soon.

Being lied to. My dad tells me when he is broke and can’t afford underwear ….that is being treated like a respected member of the human race although I wouldn’t even be mad if he lied about his underwear. It only takes one second to completely lose respect for someone for the rest of eternity.

Having to constantly readjust my volume on the television. VCR tapes suck.

Being too late to drink coffee. I’d really like a cup right now, but I’d also like to get some sleep tonight.

So after much controversy over how to spell our great-grandmother’s name, Julie ended up being correct. I verified this by calling my grandmother again today and she admitted that after talking to Jean, her sister-in law, Julie’s grandmother, that her name is spelled DOROTHA. The process of finding the truth to the spelling of her name has been quite tiring.

After Julie told me that it was spelled DOROTHA, I called my mom to get her take on the spelling. She first told me it was spelled “DOROTHEA”, then it was just “DORTHA”, then “DOROTHA”, and then there is “DORTHEA”. So basically she just made up every spelling she could think of and rambled on about a few things until my dad stole the phone from her to give me the news that the cats had fleas. This of course is horrible news and so I got situated with my bottle of diet pepsi and just listened. My dad is just a little bit insane. He hates sick people and follows them around with a bottle of lysol. He once yelled at our neighbor for having a bird-feeder with an ounce of stagnant water in it, and claimed that it was going to attract mosquitoes and give him the West Nile virus. A few years ago he was bitten by a tick and probably still thinks he has lyme disease. The list goes on and on. He is very paranoid so you can see where I get it from. I like to think that I am nowhere near as extreme as he is and I will hopefully never be that way. At least I know what genetics has in store for me. This is the second year in a row that the cats have gotten fleas, and nobody was really prepared for it last year since our oldest cat of the three is going on 12 years old and none of them have EVER had fleas before. So last year my dad nearly had a nervous breakdown because of the fleas. The dad who never calls me up on the phone unless he has a question or needs something, called me out of the blue, nearly in tears because he had lost his mind and had nowhere to turn to. He’d borrowed a pair of my grandmother’s pantyhose and was wearing them 24/7 because he claimed fleas were jumping on him all day. He bought industrial strength flea powder and spray from the agriculture store, and he had vaccumed the house 15 times, top to bottom, leaving no corner unvaccumed! My mother was not being emotionally supportive of his flea crisis because she ignores problems and said she didn’t care because she couldn’t see or feel any fleas on her. So she was just ignoring him. My parents are complete opposites. My dad thinks every little thing is the end of the world, whereas the world could literally be ending and my mom would still be watching her soap-operas, writing with her glitter pens, and happily drinking her happy little drink. My mother is a whole other story though. Still, even though I think they are the most neurotic people in the world, I still love them. Anyways, my dad seems a little bit more optimistic this year. I guess because he knows what to do this time around and isn’t wasting time on flea products that don’t work. They flea-bombed the house this morning, went shopping, came home and let the cats back in the house, gave the cats flea-dip baths and are now just hoping for the best.

So back to great-grandma. Her birthday is on September 8th and being the wonderful great-grandaughter I am, I am going to send her a birthday card, with this photo …. ya know just in case she forgets who I am. She is going to be 103 afterall. This is a picture of my great-grandma posing with her grandaughter (my mother), my brother, and ME! This was taken on Christmas 2004 and since I promised her I’d send her a picture and never did, I figured I better get on the ball. You know, Christmas 2005 is right around the corner. Time does fly, doesn’t it?

I can’t sleep. I had a converstion with Julie a while ago and somehow we got to talking about bugs that infest our living quarters. We discussed ants, spiders, cockroaches, and centipedes. My apartment has bugs and there is really not much I can do about it since 3/4 of my living space is underground (hence the reason I refer to it as a cave in many entries). There are spiders lurking around sometimes, and I’ve captured a few centipedes. I used to have an ant infestation but its under control now. My most recent addition to the family of bugs around here is the grasshopper. So in our discussion of bugs, Julie was talking about “slimy things” that used to be in her old apartment. Then the slimy things were actually “furry” like catepillars so I sent her a link with a picture of a centipede on it and she confirmed that it was indeed the bug she was talking about. After sending her the link, I actually read the centipede page and learned that centipedes can bite! Their venom can cause swelling and severe pain, but the pain is not much worse than a bee sting. Now all I can think about is centipedes crawling on me in my sleep, biting me all over.

Oh sleep, please happen soon. I have to be at work at 7:30 am which is in exactly six hours. However, if I don’t go insane with work that means that I’m leaving around 3:30. Woohoo. I took a nap earlier because I was mad and napping is what I do when I’m mad. While Julie suggested that I take a standard approach to anger like breaking things or drinking alcohol, I choose to take the less traveled path in my anger management. Breaking things would just make me angrier because after I have my fit of rage I would realize I just broke all my important stuff which would probably make me angry, so if not mad about the thing I was mad about, I’d still be mad that I broke my stuff. I don’t believe that layering problems is a good way to handle anger. And alcohol just makes me sad when I’m angry, so instead of wanting to punch some innocent bystander in the face, I would get sad and want hugs and kisses, which I won’t get unless I can hug and kiss myself.

I want to do something fun this weekend. Something involving getting really drunk or a picnic in the nice end of summer breeze would be nice. I hope I’m not still angry tomorrow but I think most of my anger has passed and I’m just starting to feel sad (see no need for alchohol, it comes naturally). Either I will become happy soon … or I could drown in the sea of depression and resume living on hot cheetos and diet pepsi, with some icecream mixed in. Hot cheetos and icecream are the perfect remedy for being sick, sad, or depressed. However, if you indulge in this remedy for more than a week straight your health will start to fail because all that red dye on those cheetos will start dying your organs, building up a layer of red dye that will ultimately cause them to stop functioning. Eventually I will probably die from eating hot cheetos.

And I have no choice. Sadness just automatically equals hot cheetos just like sadness brings on tears in most people. They are my ultimate comfort food when the thought of eating real food makes me sick to the stomach and when the thought of living another day in the state I am in makes me want to quit my job, leave Pittsburgh, and move to Madagascar with my cardboard box. And nobody needs a job in Madagascar because their economy is based on the barter system. I could make pretty things out of rocks and sticks and sell them at my little vendor stand on street in exchange for a hut to completment my cardboard box, a few soft cotton blankets, and some garments to cover my body with. That is all I really need. And I wouldn’t need hot cheetos because there is no sadness in Madagascar.

I recently read THIS on someone’s blog. Fittingly entitled “Layers”, it perfectly describes my relationship with Todd for the past three years. I guess I’m just a disgusting pig, unworthy of acknowledgement. In fact I must be a secret, carefully organized into a little hidden drawer, and the world will just cease to exist if my presence in his life is ever to become known by his family or friends. And now he has new secret friends that I do not know about too. And he lies. I’m currently accepting applications for new friends that do not think I’m an embarrassment to society and would enjoy my services for things other than sex, cleaning your house, or a free meal.

UPDATE: I know hundreds of lives had been lost and I wasn’t saying that this wasn’t a terrible event. Man, I was just making fun of Geraldo. And now New Orleans is being flooded by the Mississippi River and a lot worse than it was right after the storm. I wish the best for everyone. We’re taking donations at work, so if you want to give some money and don’t know where to call, leave me a message! We are also taking online donations and I can give you the address.

Hey Miss Cleo, I heard that the MSM has an open position and “At Large with Miss Cleo” is sounding pretty good. Wahaha, I’m bored. I’m glad that the hurricane wasn’t a “disaster of bibilical proportions” and that the New Orleanian’s aren’t “wading through a cesspool of waste.” Those are pretty strong words Geraldo. Sure, there was lots of damage and that isn’t cool at all, but I thought Louisiana was going to wash away or be uninhabitable for months – a swampland rampant with disease and critters that would eat humans alive … oh and uprooted skeletons floating through the city. Unless it was fake, they just showed footage of residents in New Orlean’s walking around downtown NO checking out the lack of damage, and the ground wasn’t even wet! Man, MSM is all talk and no action … Ha, maybe they finally figured out that we were getting tired of Cindy Sheehan and Natalee Holloway.

Anyways, today was nasty outside, but I felt kind of bad feeling pissy about it since there are others who are climbing into their attics to escape drowning in flood waters. But hey, nobody said you had to live in hurricane city … just come here where the sun never shines and you’ll never get dehydrated … you can drink the humidity in the summer and eat brown sludgy snow in the winter. I guess I’m just bummed that summer is like almost officially over although fall is nice, especially if that means I get to go to Kennywood for Fright Nights. I guess I’m kind of excited about breaking out the fall wardrobe. Not like I really have to “break it out” since it isn’t like I store it away in a hidden room somewhere. Everything is in my closet … somewhere. Of course, fall will also mean shopping because everytime the seasons change my clothing line for that season seems to have disentigrated since the year before.

I can’t really think of anything else related to talk about. Yes, weather is the most interesting thing I have for today. I do have several stories about my life that I could write about here, but I just ramble. I can’t be concise, and it pisses me off. And being pissed off equals the end because I’m a quitter. Cheaters: Losers, Quitters: Awesome …. yes that is the correct answer and I guarantee bonus points on my coolness list if you mark that on your test.

Ingredients:
Water
Clorox
Swiffer Wet Jet (with swiffer multipurpose cleaner)

Directions:
1. Look at your kitchen floor and think “wow its dirty”
2. Mix some clorox with a little water
3. Slosh clorox and water mixture on floor
4. Use swiffer wet jet to spread it around on floor
5. Press button on swiffer and make solution come out
6. Slosh swiffer/clorox solution around on floor until floor is clean

Possible Outcomes:

1. Die
After completing #6, make sure that you have no open windows, begin to cough, fall on floor, die.

2. Live
After completing #6, open windows and turn on fans. Open nearest door if necessary. In the case that you do not have any windows, run outside quickly. Do this for a long time. Fumes do not dissipate quickly.

Disclaimer: I take no responsibility for your death if you choose option #1. I’m posting this for humor …. or as a warning if you are stupid, like me. I think that college should have a class called like “Adulthood 101” where you learn the basics of cleaning and cooking on your own without poisoning yourself or setting things on fire. I’m 24 and I still can’t get it right.

This is quite possibly the scariest picture of me that I can find. It was taken on February 15, 2004. I’m bored, sorry.