literally just wrote a three-page manifesto to a stranger about how the flavor of butterscotch pudding was stolen from my childhood and it was honestly very poetic. the dramatic ending included a passionate plea for the return of pudding that changed lives. as if they would care, but the way i felt like a tortured artist was unmatched. then i almost hit send… but deleted it when my cat walked by a...
not gonna lie, ever since hearing about alejandro davidovich fokina, I keep replaying that one argument I had with my roommate over the last slice of pizza. I could have literally delivered the most epic comeback about how if he were a tennis player, he’d still get knocked out first round, and yet here I am, staring at the wall, imagining myself winning the grand slam of arguments, like that one d...
no because my mom just asked when i am having kids again, and i had to explain that my only relationship right now is with the fictional characters in the series i just finished. i mean, do i even mention that my “partner” is actually just a plant named Gerald who definitely thrives on neglect? like, do i throw in the fact that i practiced introducing them to my future in-laws for fun? what am i supposed to say?
no because my mom just asked when i am having kids again, and i had to explain that my only relationship right now is with the fictional characters in the series i just finished. i mean, do i even mention that my “partner” is actually just a plant named Gerald who definitely thrives on neglect? like, do i throw in the fact that i practiced introducing them to my future in-laws for fun? what am i supposed to say?
it's not that i forgot. it's just that the time traveler i trusted completely bailed on reminding me about my mom's birthday dinner. now i'm realizing that two weeks ago, i was supposed to make her a gift, which i didn’t. so here i am, frantically crafting a sculpture out of last week's takeout containers and expired mustard packets. i hope she appreciates modern art when it looks like a crime sce...