Oh, hello there, and welcome to what I’d like to call the “Judgement-Free Zone”. Thanks for stopping by.
Here, we will be looking at a bunch of tweets from people who are simply being their most authentic selves and living their best lives.
You may relate to some of these and not others; you may find some funny and others just downright questionable. That is your right. But what you will not do is judge. Because as previously mentioned, this is a judgement-free zone . And we’re all just trying to have some fun.
Same, but raspberry pie.
I realized the other day that it’s been way too long since I’ve tasted raspberry pie. I can’t make it, and my boyfriend can’t make it, and I shamelessly caught myself wondering if I should be dating a chef, or at least someone who knows how to whip up a really good pie.
Please don’t tell my boyfriend I said that.
Tick tock, 2020, we’re all waiting.
No no, I refuse to believe that this is 2020. I’m just going to keep calling this garbage dump of a year 2019 part 2 until it earns its own number.
Back up, Carol.
While we’re on the topic, I also don’t like when people say the sounds athletes make while playing tennis sounds like sex. Have you heard those guys? If that’s relatable to you, I think you may need to work on your technique.
Get over it.
It was quite helpfully pointed out to me the other day that I’ve been wearing the same pants all week as if I didn’t already know that .
We’re in the middle of a global pandemic, I think I’m allowed to wear sweatpants four days in a row.
This, but scowling.
If I want someone to know I’m smiling, I make a real effort to crinkle my eyes.
If I’m not doing that, I guarantee I’m giving you a really dirty look underneath this mask here.
Life be like that.
I have way too many guys on my Instagram who I never talk to anymore but who are always one of the first people to watch my stories.
And if they’re so dedicated to keeping up with my life, they could at least throw my pics a “like” once in awhile.
I’m convinced this was just an act my dad put on.
He used to love pretending he didn’t know my friend’s names until they came over. Then he was Mr. “Hi Robyn, how’s your dad Carl and your sister Jen and your Aunt Delilah?”
It’s like, the worst game that we all play.
I also enjoy throwing my Tupperware into a cupboard without any regard for how it fits in there because life’s more interesting when you open that door again and everything comes crashing down on you like an avalanche of pasta sauce-stained plastic.
No one forced me to, so why did I do it?
I’m the kind of person who has to fill awkward silences with absolute nonsense and sometimes that means blurting out things that have no business leaving my mouth.
It’s worrisome I was always awfully quick to jump to this conclusion.
I also thought that whenever my parents were late picking me up from a relative’s house that they had been in a horrible accident and now I was going to have to live with Aunt Kathy forever.
Don’t lie, you do it too.
Look, we’re all terrible people and the sooner we accept that, the sooner we can move on.
Please don’t talk to me.
There are two kinds of Uber drivers: the ones who leave you alone and only check to see you’re the person who ordered the ride when they pick you up, and the ones who try to get your entire life story out of you during an eight-minute drive to the mall.
I clearly prefer the former.
“Are y’all on top speed too?”
It’s like I believe that if my wipers are going even slightly faster than everyone else’s then I’m going to be pulled out of my vehicle and publicly shamed in the rain.
Changing your duvet cover is an *experience.*
I genuinely have to clear my schedule and physically prepare myself before attempting to put a duvet cover on. You don’t just decide to do it — this isn’t something you can just pull off spur-of-the-moment.
Garlic quantity is a suggestion, not a rule.
If you tell me to use “one garlic clove”, you can bet I’m going to use at least two bulbs because I know myself and I definitely know how disgusting my love for garlic is.
Every night while I’m trying to go to bed.
I get re-annoyed, re-embarrassed, re-regretful — you name it. I’m fully capable of experiencing the same, full-range of emotions I felt during some random moment ten years ago.
Mom, this is why there was always water all over your bathroom floor.
I’ve even specifically made shower playlists before and I still ending up leaning out of that tub to change the song. I’m never satisfied.
Remember when we all used to try?
There was one point in my life where I woke up two hours earlier than necessary so I could make myself look as good as I possibly could before heading out the door.
Now I’m lucky if I remember to brush my hair.
Even that girl’s doing better than me.
One time during an exam a girl in my class asked the teacher if the past-tense of get was “gid”, and she still got a higher mark in that class than I did.
It’s in all of our best interest.
I’m not someone who ever learned to direct myself using North, South, East, and West. Don’t talk to me like it’s the 1800s and I’m out here using a compass to get around — tell me a landmark and I’ll be able to find the McDonald’s you want to meet up at just fine.
