You ever notice how the people who say "money can't buy happiness" are usually the ones who haven't had to worry about their next meal? Like, sure, I get it, but have you ever tried eating a slice of pizza while sitting on a pile of cash? At that moment, pure bliss. Meanwhile, I’m over here Googling "how to be happy on a budget" like it's a life skill. Let’s be real, I’d trade my last pair of dece...
So here’s the thing: I just finished a book that everyone raved about, and it was... an absolute snoozefest. I literally felt like I was prying my eyelids open during the last few chapters. At this point, I’m convinced some book clubs just like to gather and pretend they understand the author’s “deep” metaphors about the color of a cat's fur representing existential dread. Meanwhile, I'm just here...
Is it just me or does anyone else feel like adulting is basically just Googling how to do things you should have learned in school? I mean, I’m over here trying to figure out taxes like it’s a boss level in a video game. How did we not get a class on "How to Not Cry When Opening Your Bank Statement"? Who decided that's not important?
Is it just me or does anyone else feel like adulting is basically just Googling how to do things you should have learned in school? I mean, I’m over here trying to figure out taxes like it’s a boss level in a video game. How did we not get a class on "How to Not Cry When Opening Your Bank Statement"? Who decided that's not important?
I was scrolling through my old playlist and realized something shocking: my taste in music is basically a time capsule of awful decisions. I mean, who was I fooling with those early 2000s boy bands? I’m still shocked I managed to escape my teenage years without joining a fan club. But hey, if those cringe-worthy jams pop up at a party, I’ll be the one belting out the lyrics with all the confidence...