Why is it that the second I start eating healthy, every single food commercial suddenly features my favorite junk food? Like, I didn’t need a pizza commercial to remind me how much I love drowning in cheese and regret. It’s like the universe is just waiting to sabotage my salad. And don’t even get me started on how my mom thinks I’m on a 'diet' because I bought quinoa. Lady, I'm just trying to tri...
I genuinely can't believe how much I’ve become a "book person" over the past year. I used to think reading was just a way to avoid doing actual work, and now I'm knee-deep in fantasy worlds while my laundry sits in a pile like it's waiting for an eviction notice. Seriously, though, if you told me I’d be emotionally invested in fictional characters to the point of ignoring my friends’ texts about p...
So I thought it would be a brilliant idea to try my hand at cooking during the pandemic. I mean, how hard can it be, right? Fast forward to me nearly burning the house down trying to follow a TikTok recipe for a fancy pasta dish. I ended up with something that looked like science project leftovers. My smoke alarm has literally become my sous-chef. Now I just order takeout and tell people I’m on a “culinary journey.” At least my bank account agrees with my new hobby. Anyone else mastered the art of "expertly avoiding the kitchen"?
So I thought it would be a brilliant idea to try my hand at cooking during the pandemic. I mean, how hard can it be, right? Fast forward to me nearly burning the house down trying to follow a TikTok recipe for a fancy pasta dish. I ended up with something that looked like science project leftovers. My smoke alarm has literally become my sous-chef. Now I just order takeout and tell people I’m on a “culinary journey.” At least my bank account agrees with my new hobby. Anyone else mastered the art of "expertly avoiding the kitchen"?
I think I might be the only person who hates the smell of old books. Like, I get that it's supposed to be this romantic, "I’m so cultured" vibe, but to me it smells like a mix of dust and regret. I feel like a total fraud at cafes pretending to sip my overpriced coffee while reading Tolstoy. Meanwhile, I’m just hoping no one looks too closely at my bookmarks—you know, the ones that are actually ju...