I’m Totally on Board with Accepting Flaws, as Long as Those Flaws Adhere to a Certain Standard of Flawlessness
A single smudge on an otherwise clean French door? No worries! An entire handprint? It’s a crime scene.
A single smudge on an otherwise clean French door? No worries! An entire handprint? It’s a crime scene.
Directions: Forgo the kitchen scissors and rip the Hershey’s bag open in the worst way possible.
I remember when you nervously called your ‘rents at your first “real party” because someone offered you a sip of Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
Clapping along: You’re confident. Some would say overconfident. Holding up a lighter: You have a peace sign bumper sticker on your car.
Which of your family members is now a part of QAnon? What is your first guess on Wordle?
Everyone’s favorite sauce now in chip form! Hot Hot Hollandaise has a triple dose of cayenne for a thoroughly throat-scorching encounter.
The wool fibers prefer an east-to-west cross-breeze coming from a north- and south-facing window.
- Repeat grades six and seven, objectively my most awkward years - Untangle holiday lights - Menstruate for an entire month
You won’t get holidays off, but aren’t you sick of spending Thanksgiving with your cheugy cousins anyway?
It might look like I have a pretty good gig, but don’t you think this is kind of fucked up?
I started to worry once I took a few tumbles onto the driveway. The damage was limited—I am made of steel—but the emotional injury is everlasting.