Him: It’s like people are going feral.
Me: *looks in mirror*
*tries to run fingers through my hair*
*hand gets stuck in rat’s nest*
*flicks ham off my shirt*
*takes deep breath*
It’s finally my time to shine. I shall be their leader.
I’ll have a turkey burger. No bun, please.
*just goes straight up Pac-Man on the basket of garlic rolls*
*sees cute guy approaching*
Me: *whispers to self* Don’t be weird… don’t be weird…
Me: *wombat noises*
*raises the last pack of toilet paper to the sky like Simba*
*does the Dirty Dancing lift with a slab of ribs*
Whatever, hissing raccoon. Sitting there, judging me. I didn’t mean to throw the cake in the trash so it’s still fair game.
This seems like a really, really bad idea.
*jumps in with both feet*
Him: It’s been like 30 years, I think you should let it go.
Me: It could still happen.
Me: [to my John Taylor Duran Duran poster] He’s just jealous.
Me: *points to donut case*
Her: How many would you like, ma’am?
So there’s a legend that in 1593, a soldier in Manila teleported to Mexico and I’ve never felt so connected to the lengths someone will go to for tacos.