Unbelievable on Netflix is the best show that I can’t actually recommend. I don’t normally HAVE feelings, and even *I* alternated flinching and nausea.
It would be wonderful if it hadn’t really happened.
“Brain. Come on. Work with me.”
“I will sit on the couch, watch The Good Place again, and eat chocolate chips out of the bag. These are my terms.”
*sigh* DICK.
One of my dating matches asked about my “guilty pleasure” entertainment choices, and aside from “I never feel guilty about pleasure,” which just sounds filthy in a way I’m not yet going for… I dunno, I’m pretty open about the lame shit I like. I’m not trying to make a guy go to a Pistol Annies show with me, or watch “Jane the Virgin,” or go see “Legally Blonde: the Musical” the 47 more times I’M totally gonna go see it before it leaves Philly. I don’t need you for that.
I mean, I AM gonna need you to like John Mulaney so I know you’re not a goddamn soulless monster, but I don’t feel guilty about that at all. A lady has to have standards, sir.
Wait a second…
How am *I* dying alone while this dipshit walrus-lookin’ Hoarder with an old-school Nokia clipped to his belt is not only married but also has a sidepiece?
Motherfucker got ladies lined UP for that mustache ride, damn.
I’m shopping online for hiking shoes, which are apparently a thing I need for my goddamn VACATION? Fucking nature people. 🙄
Anyway. Guess which hiking shoe I’m NOT buying?
Fuck you, you fucking “fashionable for ladies” fuckface. I don’t give a flying fuck if my fucking shoes are fucking fashionable!
…OK, fine, I totally care, but that’s not the MAIN thing I’m looking for. ASS. How ’bout you take your fashionable shoes for a hike up to Shut Fuck Mountain, jackass?
Via Ms. Andry’s Bath House on Facebook, my new #goals for the evening
Scott Foley is going gray and my body was not ready for these feelings.
UNF. 
Jesus, Netflix, YES, I am still watching Scandal. Didn’t you INVENT the binge watch? Let me hide from humanity in peace. I don’t feel like moving my arm to find the damn remote — what am I, a triathlete?
Judgy bitch.
Oh, fuck you, Netflix.
Read the room, man, DAMN — today is for cartoons and British people baking. I’m at capacity on political shit right now. 
Smug Singleton 