Ya know what?
No, seriously, do YOU know what??
These God damn skinny jeans are a joke.
I mean, they don’t even FIT me!
I’ve done my research, and they don’t even make them in a size that would remotely make love to my thigh. What the actual fuck???
Look at my beard!! Can’t you see the time that goes in to keeping the shape of this thing??
Do you think that I just wake up looking like this??
I mean, I drink the best coffee that I can find, and to be honest, I may have to find a support group.
This shit is expensive.
My music collection is of the best eclectic indie rock and my singer-songwriter list is top fucking notch!
But ya know what? These fuckin skinny jeans still aren’t fittin me!!
Look, I have the crushed velvet corduroy sport jacket ready; it’s right here . . . just waiting for its soul mate. But noooo! No skinny jeans for the big guy!
Screw this, I’m going out for artisan pizza!
Now, where are my sandals?
Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.