In a post-apocalyptic world, I’d be the one to shave my head and charge toward you with a machete while screaming. You’ll think, is that a man or a woman? It won’t matter. Small-chested and bald, this is my time to shine now.
Have kids so they can wake you at 2 a.m. yelling with what you think is a nightmare and your adrenaline spikes as you rush to their room worried and ready to console them but instead find out they’re just complaining that “it’s too boring in here”
With every passing day the gap between being a negligent cook and being an arsonist gets a little smaller. Soon I should be able to take out a whole block with a strategic “trying this new egg recipe.”