I just realized how underrated my dog is. Like, I could totally be a millionaire if I charged for the amount of unconditional love he gives me. Meanwhile, my friends are like, "Why do you always talk about him?" Because he gets me more than any human ever could! He doesn’t judge me for my cereal-for-dinner habits and he definitely doesn’t care that I’ve been wearing the same sweatpants for three d...
Is it just me, or does anyone else feel like adulthood is just a constant game of pretending you know what you're doing? Like, one minute you’re in a high school class thinking your biggest worry is algebra, and the next you’re sitting in a meeting nodding along, while internally screaming, “I have no idea what any of this means!” And don’t get me started on how we trick ourselves into thinking we...
I once went on a trip to a popular tourist destination and thought I’d be all adventurous and take a “local bus” instead of a taxi. Big mistake. I ended up in a bus that looked like it hadn’t seen a wash since the invention of soap, packed tighter than a can of sardines, with a guy next to me singing at the top of his lungs. By the time I reached my destination, I was two hours late, covered in someone’s mystery spill, and convinced that local travel is just a creative form of survival training. Who knew a laid-back vacation could turn into a reality show audition?
I once went on a trip to a popular tourist destination and thought I’d be all adventurous and take a “local bus” instead of a taxi. Big mistake. I ended up in a bus that looked like it hadn’t seen a wash since the invention of soap, packed tighter than a can of sardines, with a guy next to me singing at the top of his lungs. By the time I reached my destination, I was two hours late, covered in someone’s mystery spill, and convinced that local travel is just a creative form of survival training. Who knew a laid-back vacation could turn into a reality show audition?
Why does every art piece suddenly feel like an expensive therapy session? Like, I legitimately need a financial advisor after stepping into any gallery. And don’t even get me started on those “interpretation” sessions—my five-year-old could doodle a stick figure and some pretentious hipster would call it "a profound exploration of existential dread." Meanwhile, I'm just wondering if they have a gi...