I Can’t Understand How My Dog’s Breath Smells So Wonderful All The Time

I can’t… with the PR girl in my office who I know I know from somewhere and I know she knows that I know that I know her from somewhere because she definitely knows me from somewhere, too, but she refuses to make eye contact with me. I’m talking downturns her entire face when I am anywhere near her line of vision. But why?! WHY?!? Let’s at least figure out how we know one another and hash it out from there, girl. Your totally obvious and inexplicable disdain for me is not sitting well. I don’t mind being disliked, but for good reason.

I can’t… believe how at-home I’ve come to feel in workout pants. I used to grimace at individuals who wore anything other than shorts to the gym. I didn’t understand the draw in stuffing your entire leg into tight pants with the inevitably of sweaty leg sweat on the horizon (the horizon being your ass?). But then, one dark and stormy night, I bought some workout capris. And then, another dark and stormy night later, I bought some workout pants and now I understand. Now I know.

I can’t… understand how or why my dog’s breath smells so wonderful all the time, but it does. And I’m not apologizing for how weird that is to write.

I can’t… tolerate people who are unable to read someone’s mood. I know that’s unfair of me. I know that a lot of babies are born without the “being able to read someone’s mood and leave them the fuck alone” gene, but it’s just gotten to the point in life where it makes me angry more than anything. I have no sympathy for these humans. If someone gives you a closed-mouth grin after you say “good morning!” or “hey! how was your weekend?” leave them alone. Don’t pry. Don’t prode. Don’t poke. Read the signs of that person wanting everyone and everything to go away, and slowly back away from the vehicle. People handle moods and life differently – some may kill you if you can’t read the situation and hover there like a lost child. And you don’t want to be killed, right?

I can’t… believe my washer is STILL going. Really? I mean, I meant it when I set it to “heavy,” but I didn’t know heavy meant a 4-hour cycle.

I can’t… oh. The washer just went off. Whoopsie! Spoke too soon.

I can’t… with these two rouge curls that have suddenly found a home in my bed of hair. What in the actual hell??? What are these two baby curls? I don’t understand. Can some hairstylist out there explain why they would’ve just showed up like this, all short and weird? It’s pretty fucking rude. They didn’t even call ahead. They just walked in like they owned the place and set up camp.

I can’t… when you decide to finally run the silly, petty errands you’ve been putting off and that are inconvenient in the sense that they require a trip to two stores instead of one and, when you’ve completed said errands, you’re all like “Yes! I did it! FUCK. I FORGOT THE FUCKING COFFEE FILTERS.” And you’re halfway to the car already and you could so easily turn back to go grab the filters, but you can’t. And you won’t. You messed up and you’re gonna own it and punish yourself by going back out again tomorrow and getting the filters at another store. Because you’re sick and twisted like that. Also, you’re lazy.

I can’t… workout during lunch for one reason and two words: hairline sweat. It isn’t fixable without a complete re-shower and lord KNOWS I ain’t doing that. Ain’t nobody got time for a lunchtime workout and a lunchtime shower and those that do, I hate you harder than you’ll ever know.

I can’t… with how anytime I get a new pair of sunglasses, it’s cloudy for days after. And anytime I get a new pair of nice shoes I want to sport, it’s rainy outside. What is this thing called life?

I can’t… be expected to be a healthy, young adult when fresh produce goes bad in a day. Did you know that with each passing day you have fresh produce on hand, the nutrients and goodness depletes? Yeah. So. You may think eating that salad for lunch is a better choice for you than a nice, authentic peanut butter sandwich, but you would be very, very wrong. There’s some knowledge to stick in your craw. So, next time you’re debating whether or not to just shave off that weird looking section on a cucumber or if that 4-day old fresh asparagus is still okay, can both and heat up some deliciously watery, frozen veggies. Or just go get Chipotle.

I can’t… I just can’t.