• I picked apart a Reece’s Peanut Butter Cup. The chocolate on its own, kinda sucks. The peanut butter on its own kinda sucks. Eating the chocolate and peanut butter separately is like Paul McCartney and John Lennon. They’re completely awful unless they’re together.
• I don’t care. I like the band Paramore. I don’t care that my wife hates it because it reminds her of an ex-boyfriend. I don’t care that Paramore, as a band, stands in stark contrast to my affinity for darker, louder, more traditionally masculine sounding bands. They make perfect sugary pop-rock and sometimes that’s the just the kind of stuff I need in my ears. So yeah, I don’t care.
• Despite what your wounded ego tells you, there is at least one instance in your romantic adventures where you broke the heart, where you were the bad guy. Everybody gets at least one.
• I don’t care. I also like Ariana Grande.
• How to be Aggressively Passive-Aggressive on the CTA:
Sit/stand next to the drunk, the wanker blasting video Snapchats without headphones, the manspreader or the Trixie with the stuffed backpack refusing to make room for those entering and exiting the vehicle, and type out your post or Tweet or Instagram so they can clearly see you publicly shaming them.
• Get a bidet. Really, just do it.