Oh well gee, my dog just got hit by a car but now that you copy & pasted the Merriam Webster definition of ‘faith’ I feel so much better. Screw not being able to afford next month’s rent! I finally have a list of 15 painfully-obvious vocab words in pretty-colored fonts! I especially love the author’s bullshit analysis of each word. For example, did you know that ‘serenity’ means “Basically, hakuna matata”? Me either, but thanks to this brilliant insight the rain clouds have suddenly lifted and now I’m just frolicking through a field of fucking daisies. Thanks to this handy article I now know the definition of ‘temporary’ (e.g. Grandma is dead; life is temporary), so all my worries are resolved! Thanks Thought Catalog!
Why, why, WHY would you ever unleash this type of potentially-dangerous information onto the masses? There are already enough terrible roommates out there trolling lame blogs, not-washing the dishes, and practicing their assorted instruments at 3 a.m. Why would you write this article? Do you hate society that much? Or do you just hate your slovenly roommate? I’m no Nancy Drew, but this article is now in the running for The Most Passive Aggressive Blog Post of the Month Award. Be a grown-up like the rest of us and confront your shitastic housemate via a Post-It (or twenty) stuck on the fridge.
So what? Hummus can be fucking disgusting, in case you weren’t aware. Something about the texture/color/the-need-for-constant-refrigeration troubles me. That little festering blob is just ripe for the reproduction of millions of tiny mold spores. Plus, it sort of looks like my dog’s poo. And how much time did you spend scouring Twitter for this specific genre of tweets? You seriously need a hobby. May I suggest knitting?
Omfg. Shut up. Nobody cares.
Wouldn’t it be nice if the cashier at your convenience store who is used to your yoga pant-clad period runs for tampons, wine, and Reese’s Cups was suddenly treated to you in a ball gown…? Just let that sink in for a minute. Personally, I don’t care what the speckle-faced preteen kid at Wegman’s thinks of my grocery-chic attire. If I’m at the grocery store I’m on a goddamn mission. Besides, my ass looks a hell of a lot better in yoga pants than it does in a ball gown. And just imagine that dry cleaning bill. Hosting Barefoot Contessa-esque parties. Seriously? I don’t have time for this shit.
Thanks for reminding me I don’t have a job. Asshole.