“I feel like I’m about to be gunned down in an alley and my son is going to grow up to be Batman.”
I regret to inform you Twin Peaks (the restaurant) has nothing to do with Twin Peaks (the television show and movie), but all of the bartenders here think I’m very charming and handsome.
ACLs are like moms because they’re largely taken for granted until one snaps and then it’s bad news.
It’s 34° and raining in Louisville; my physical therapy clinic is playing “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths.
Nice.
Congrats!
Zenmaxxing by using the Apple Watch Mindfulness app, brown noise playlist, and CHANI guided meditation all at the same time.
Hostile architecture but so I remember where to put my jacket and shoes at home.
A new American Football album is a recession indicator.
Kohler’s paradox: The closer you get to your ideal water temperature in the shower the further away it becomes.
Who keeps leaving all these screws in the road and why do I love driving over them so much?
Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights is a comic book movie for girls who were “a pleasure to have in class.”
“What if I took you to Australia and New Zealand instead of Germany and Denmark for your birthday?”
“But I’ve already been to Australia and New Zealand.”
This complaint brought to you by the same author as “Do we have to stay at the Four Seasons again?”
(It was me.)
Guys, did you know Hilary Duff is sucking dick now?
Physical therapy is the adult equivalent of the marshmallow test: do these stretches now and maybe at some point in the future your injury won’t hurt any longer.
Sitting on the floor gang
Sharing a take bad enough to get out of a conversation, but not so bad as to invite further questions.
Why have you
poured the wet
coffee grounds
in the already
full garbage can
and which
you were probably
throwing
out later
Forgive me
what do you
mean there’s
no more
coffee left
“Patient body habitus degrades the study.” — well fuck you too, buddy.
I know I locked the front door, but I don’t remember locking the front door, so I have to check the front door.
I can relate to Smaug because I too enjoy standing around and admiring My Stuff.
“I’m just worried no one will know what your interests are…”
Spoiler: It was him.
Is it still an angel number if it’s the number of my unread emails?
Walking into my own kitchen like “good lord who closed last night”
Is it a sensory issue or does loading the dishwasher just suck?
I forgot to take my meds before bed. I also forgot to go to bed, but whatevs.
Can’t think of a gift for them? Let them be the little spoon.
I’m going to ask about the plans, but I’m also going to need to be reminded about the plans.
In this house we believe in the Hoe Phase.
