bruh, just found out about this whole Towson basketball hype and realized my life has basically turned into a bad sitcom. i’m out here taking coffee breaks at work, practicing comebacks for when the barista says “have a nice day,” only to awkwardly mumble thanks while spilling my drink all over myself. if my social skills were a team, they'd be benched harder than Towson against Monmouth. like, ca...
it's 7am and I literally woke up panicking because I agreed to mentor someone and now I’m just here wondering how to spell “empathy.” last night, I accidentally spilled coffee on my notes trying to write a motivational speech, and all I got was a sad latte art of my existential crisis. honestly, I’m so lost it feels like I’m trying to explain the offside rule to my cat, meanwhile Man Utd just beat...
it's not that I care what people think about my obsession with collecting vinyl records, it’s just… I mean, who could possibly understand how each record feels like a tiny portal to a different time, right? but then I spiral, wondering if my friends judge me for having more records than clothes, and suddenly I’m convinced they only invite me over to discuss their superior playlists like, am I the cringey friend now? and don't even get me started on the way they talk about music. it's like, oh my god, just because I prefer that obscure band nobody's heard of doesn’t mean I’m being elitist, I just—well, you know what? forget it. I’m going to keep buying records and make everyone else awkward with my absurd listening parties until they get it.
it's not that I care what people think about my obsession with collecting vinyl records, it’s just… I mean, who could possibly understand how each record feels like a tiny portal to a different time, right? but then I spiral, wondering if my friends judge me for having more records than clothes, and suddenly I’m convinced they only invite me over to discuss their superior playlists like, am I the cringey friend now? and don't even get me started on the way they talk about music. it's like, oh my god, just because I prefer that obscure band nobody's heard of doesn’t mean I’m being elitist, I just—well, you know what? forget it. I’m going to keep buying records and make everyone else awkward with my absurd listening parties until they get it.
yooo, so my life took a weird turn when my neighbor asked me to feed their goldfish while they were out of town. cool, right? i thought it would be simple—until i realized i forgot to ask how much to feed them. so there i am, pouring what felt like a lifetime supply of flakes into the tank, like i’m preparing them for a feast. then, like a horror movie twist, i find out goldfish can die from overf...