I deleted my Facebook account a long time ago. It was a painful day. This is me reliving my Facebook life via blog posts. Facebook Friday.
My husband and I often get into legit discussions about who Taylor Swift should date next. He says Sam Hunt; she needs a good old country boy. I am all for Matt Healy; everyone should date a tattooed misfit once in their life.
I genuinely don’t understand luxury stationwagons. Buying an Audi station wagon makes zero sense. I don’t understand why they are even made. Also, why do people put rims on Toyota Camrys?
I had big plans for the day. I was going to work out and write while my daughter was at Grandma’s. Instead, I ate Chipotle and took a two-hour nap. I have convinced myself that I burned the same number of calories. The math isn’t important.
If you aren’t using smoked paprika, your life isn’t completely whole.
Skiing feels like a rich people sport. Rich people who are balanced and coordinated.
Watching my husband shuffle cards is more painful than a cesarean section.
Sometimes, when my skin burns randomly, I wonder if I somehow got acid on me. I don’t know, people. I’m concerned for myself as well.
ADIDAS: All Day I Dream About Salami
I am always concerned that I will forget to clear my browser history prior to my death. I don’t need people knowing that I Googled “celebrities with cellulite” or that I constantly feel the need to research who Selena Gomez and Mindy Kaling are dating.
Just read about a man facing $1 MILLION in child support a MONTH. I’m praying his baby is the national debt.
I don’t understand why the world is talking about an ugly dress. Optometrists are about to make a fortune.