this is the log of capt. satah of the hmcs eatdic, an extraterrestrial cyborg that crash-landed in a canadian city full of grey rocks twenty-three years ago. their lumpy metal heart pumps only tea, cola, and beer. a stranger on the internet once described them as "lonely, young, trying to get drunk, and way too effeminate to ever get a girl in the next three years"
possibly undermining my adult status by immediately snapchatting a picture of me with a print-out saying i just filed my taxes to everyone i thought might appreciate it but FRICK IT WE’RE MILLENNIALS WE KNOW THE SCORE I’M AN ADUUUUUUUUUUUULT
I THINK I JUST FILED MY TAXES? BY MYSELF? YEAH!!! YEAH I DID! I’M AN ADUUUUUUUULT THOUGH NOT REALLY BC I’M STILL MAKING MAD RETURNS DUE TO BEING AN UNDEREMPLOYED TWENTY-SOMETHING BUT STILL YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH
for some reason with this i got horrible like snapchat performance anxiety and didn’t know who to send it to and got so nervous about it that i had my finger hovering over the uninstall button before i could rein myself in a little and be like whoa it’s ok one boring snap doesn’t… it’s… fine it’s fine you’re fine everything’s fine
ah yes, the classic one-leg bucket battle royale. brings back summertime memories
so many august hours spent waiting for the evening humidity drop to come so we could emerge from our air-conditioned prisons and indulge in the ultimate expression of youthful freedom that is hopping around on one foot. so much money saved going halfsies on a pair of sandals with a friend. it really does take u back.