Why do we as a society still pretend that we enjoy small talk? Like, who actually finds joy in discussing the weather or the traffic? Meanwhile, I’m over here wondering if my deep-seated fear of commitment is more relatable than asking someone if they’ve seen the new cafe down the street. Can we just skip to the part where we talk about our existential crises and what we really think about pineapp...
I have a confession: I’m 100% convinced that my dog understands me better than most people. Like, the other day I was having a meltdown over my failed bread baking attempt, and all he did was sit there, looking at me like, “Chill, human, I eat whatever you put in front of me.” Meanwhile, my friends keep texting me asking why I haven’t been social lately, and I’m just like... can they bring treats?...
I just finished a book that was supposed to be a "thrilling page-turner," but honestly, it felt more like a sleep aid. I mean, I could've used the pages to prop my eyes open at this point. How do authors get away with writing 300 pages of a protagonist pondering over an unopened letter? Like, I get it, suspense, but my grocery list is more riveting. What’s worse is that I’m now committed to reading the next one in the series just to see if anything actually happens, which is basically the literary version of watching my plants grow. Anyone else find themselves trapped in a never-ending cycle of book regret?
I just finished a book that was supposed to be a "thrilling page-turner," but honestly, it felt more like a sleep aid. I mean, I could've used the pages to prop my eyes open at this point. How do authors get away with writing 300 pages of a protagonist pondering over an unopened letter? Like, I get it, suspense, but my grocery list is more riveting. What’s worse is that I’m now committed to reading the next one in the series just to see if anything actually happens, which is basically the literary version of watching my plants grow. Anyone else find themselves trapped in a never-ending cycle of book regret?
I genuinely think people need to stop pretending that adulting is all rainbows and gourmet dinners. I mean, I can burn water at this point. My culinary skills peaked in college when I learned to make instant noodles without the water. And don’t even get me started on cooking shows—how are you supposed to feel inspired while you can’t even make toast without setting off the smoke alarm? Meanwhile, ...