Ugh, who even invited you?

No one ever mentions the benefits of mild anxiety, like the fact that *I* am absolutely NOT being irrational, but MAN, this daffy bitch in the dark recesses of my brain, tho, amirite?!

Chick-fil-HEY.

…Goddammit, I hate everything.

Man, bitches, though, amirite?

Have any of you ever been placated by a fucking frosted lemonade? Screw you, Chick-fil-A. Make it chocolate salted caramel and replace the wedding dress with the magically evasive unicorn of a tall boot that zips over my giant hamhock calves, and then MAYBE you’ll sell me something.