Ever since I started spending every minute of every day inside my apartment, my refrigerator has become my best friend. And also my worst enemy.
Sometimes I don’t even realize I’ve walked into the kitchen until I’m standing there with the fridge wide open, the cool air caressing my legs while I try to decide between eating cold spaghetti or polishing off that bottle of wine I see.
Usually, I just pick both and call it a “snack”.
If you have also become unusually well-acquainted with your fridge nowadays, I’ve got some hilarious tweets that should help keep you away from it, at least for a few minutes. Then it’s back to the eternal struggle of eating a cheese string while eyeing another cheese string and thinking about the cheese string you’ll be eating after that one, too.
I can’t wait.
This will also be my reaction when I finally get to order movie theater popcorn again.
Y’all remember that stuff? Sometimes I think I can still taste it… other times, it feels like a distant memory of a better time and better snacks.
Someone finally said it.
I don’t know why I love to hate-watch so many Instagram stories. You might be wondering why I even still follow those people if I dislike them so much.
For the stories , that’s why. They fuel me. They ignite my hate. They keep me going. I just can’t explain it.
It all makes sense now.
We’ve all seen Frozen , we remember Anna’s passionate, heartfelt song about “the first time in forever.”
We can definitely relate.
She’s definitely on to something.
And it comes with a built-in straw so it’s like you’re lying on a beautiful, giant Capri Sun that’s filled with cheap grocery store wine you sip all night along.
Someone write this down!
Same, sis.
I made this exact expression just this morning when the last half of my Pop-Tart fell out of my mouth and into my sink filled with dirty dish water.
May have even cried a little too.
Think again.
I get that birds love to sing in the morning. I really do.
But tell me why they gotta congregate in massive bird A Capella groups right outside my bedroom window at 5 AM to practice for regionals?
There’s that bright side.
Not only am I the cutest girl in the entire office now, I am also the funniest and the smartest and no one can take that away from me.
Until we have video meetings and I’m put back in my rightful place of mediocrity again.
Never forget.
Why do we never talk about that final scene in the movie when the filmmakers thought it would be super fun to break free from the original source material and make us all believe our favorite characters (i.e. Carlisle Cullen) were killed in the battle with the Volturi?
Why were they not held accountable for the emotional trauma it caused all of us? I demand justice.
*Raises hand*.
Look, I don’t even remember the last time I said the words “breakfast”, “lunch”, or “dinner”. Everything is just “meal one”, “meal two”, and “meal six” now.
Good man provide TP for family.
Also, I would like to formally start a petition to start calling our fiancés “husband-elects” from now on.
Guilty.
And I like to look at all those beautiful outfits while I grab the exact same black hoodie I wear every single day.
Or the best luck, depending on your sense of humor.
Look, you could be upset about this and embarrassed and demand a new license plate.
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Or you could embrace life’s funny little moments and drive around with what just might be the most amazing plate possible. Your choice.
I do my research.
I also like to say, “Ooh, I don’t know!” when my friends ask me what I’m getting, as if I didn’t locate that item I’d already looked up online and decided yes, that is exactly what I’ll be ordering.
It’s true though.
I can remember flipping through these magazines and dreaming about the day I would somehow, some way find myself on the cover, grinning out at all the other preteens and knowing they were looking back at me with nothing but pure admiration.
“Can you see me?”
Every FaceTime call with your parents begins with 20 minutes of frustration as your dad complains about “technology” while trying to figure out how to turn on his front-facing camera, and then 20 more minutes of your parents glitching because their internet is terrible and they refuse to update their speed.
I’m very optimistic.
I like to look at that bag of cauliflower rice getting older and older in my freezer while I grab for french fries and tater tots and hash browns and think about how certain I was I was going to eat it.
Funny how we can be so wrong.
“Excuse me, do you mind starting over?”
Sometimes you’re certain you’ve picked the right side and then you listen for a few more minutes and realize oh no, Jennifer was definitely in the wrong.
Derek is right, she really doesn’t think about anyone but herself.
There’s still good in the world.
Not only do bread bowls exist, but so does macaroni and cheese and curly fries and hot fudge sundaes and you know what? Things really aren’t so bad after all.
Nothing’s easy anymore.
“Started making it, had a breakdown… bon appétit” is how I present any meal, baked good, or bowl of cereal anymore.
Who knew?
It’s also shown me you don’t need to wait until it’s an appropriate time of day to start drinking.
No one’s checking, sis. You can pop open that bottle of wine at 12 PM or 9 AM — nothing matters anymore .
