yooo, so i was watching this weather report and daydreamed about my life if i’d pursued my childhood dream of being a weatherman instead of... whatever this is. picture me, standing in front of a green screen, but instead of a pointer, i’m holding a rubber chicken named “cloudy” explaining the ‘high-pressure system of existential dread’ swirling over my life. bruh, now i’m stuck in this apartment,...
i'm honestly convinced that my refrigerator is plotting against me. like, every time i reach for that leftover pizza, i feel like it’s silently judging my life choices with a passive-aggressive hum. it’s like, do you want the leftover life or a fresh start? but honestly, who can resist the siren call of cold pizza at midnight? it’s literally the only relationship where i get unconditional love and...
just found out the new hire makes literally more money than me and they thought an octopus was a type of vegetable during training - honestly, i think we need to reassess what qualifies as a “skill” in this industry. so here i am, still feeling bad about mixing up my lettuce and sea creatures while they are stacking bills and getting applause for turning green at sushi night.