In my (personal, one-woman membership) religion of skepticism, we (I) get all sorts of holidays: St. Carl Sagan’s birth and death days (holy days), Laika Day, Victory Over Polio Day, Arbor Day, and Flag Day. Also Labor Day.

Wino forever.

Our senior class prank was a bunch of the popular assholes getting drunk at Cedar Point, thus cutting the senior trip short from two days to one.

I went to college down the street from Carnegie Mellon, and the annual spring purge furnished a great deal of my poor college years - books, clothes, furniture, dishes. All REALLY nice stuff, all just tossed out on the curb.

You know he duct-taped a band geek to the football goal posts and led spirited games of “Smear the Q*eer.” He probably wears his varsity jacket (a little tight around the shoulders and stomach now) at home while he flips through his yearbook, re-reading all the messages from classmates and wondering what Kelly Jo…

Yeah, but be honest - sushi doesn’t go with Bud Light. It’s just a bad pairing. And since Blake is a Bud Light branded beer koozie come to life....

You monster!

Evan’s deal-breakers are apparently girls with chipped nail polish and girls with serious food allergies.

Man, the University of Tokyo is really upping their robotics game. He looks almost human.

Sucks to your ass-mar, I guess.

People who don’t work in offices always assume I’m exaggerating when I talk about my work mates. Like, my SAHM friends always say, “it can’t be that bad.” Yes, lady, is CAN be that bad. It IS that bad.

A prank is when I turn my husband’s sat radio to an EDM station and turn the volume up so that when he starts his car in the morning, it’s bass thumping techno.

Well my fav couple remains chocolate and peanut butter, but no one follows my Instagram to hear my hot take on them, so whatever.

BRB, going to set my dirty mind FREE (FREE!)

One of the biggest disappointments in my life was when I entered the professional workplace and realized that people are far from professional.....

There are a shocking amount of people with my name on Facebook. Many are in France (I am not French or French-descended). There’s also an ob-gyn in Texas, an architect, and someone who is the CEO at “Brayden and Rylie.”

I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I’m certain that when Sartre wrote “hell is other people,” it was a consequence of him working in an office setting and dealing with the myriad of terrible people that populate it.

“Somehow found” your registry means she was actively snooping. I’ve never accidentally stumbled across a registry online. She’s probably hit up your social media too.

My BB found out that I kept my own surname upon marrying. “Oh, you’re one of those,” she said.

There’s a reason I bury my ear buds in my skull from 7:30 AM to 5:30 PM every weekday.

Largely because a top executive goes to the same church as busy-body, and she’s one of the protected folk who can float through life being an asshole with little to no repercussions.