So I just looked at my subscription list and realized I have one for a monthly potato recipe service. I have never even cooked a potato. But here I am, funding some random chef's potato dream while my actual meals consist of cereal and regret. It's so bad that I am convinced my spirit animal is just a lone french fry… floating in the void.
not gonna lie, i just spent an hour debating if i should send a friend request to someone who sells antique spoons online. like, why am i contemplating manifesting a life where they notice me because of my *dedication to flatware*? do i think i could join them on a treasure hunt for the world's rarest ladle? it's truly unhinged how deeply i researched their spoon collection. does anyone else lowke...
not gonna lie, I spent three months curating a fruit fly farm for "science." you know, trusting the process, letting nature take its course. turns out the process has a darker sense of humor. now my kitchen is a shrine to buzzing regrets. I can’t eat an apple without picturing my ex-colony launching an uprising against me.
not gonna lie, I spent three months curating a fruit fly farm for "science." you know, trusting the process, letting nature take its course. turns out the process has a darker sense of humor. now my kitchen is a shrine to buzzing regrets. I can’t eat an apple without picturing my ex-colony launching an uprising against me.
it's not that I’m devastated, it's just—I literally watched my friends pick sides over a debate about what sandwich is the best, and I ended up in the peanut butter and jelly corner, surrounded by people I don’t even like, while my actual best friend was living their best life in the ham and cheese camp. like, how do I even explain this at the next dinner? "oh, I am a proud member of the jelly bri...