Just went to a restaurant with communal seating—nothing like paying good money to relive the social anxiety of high school lunch tables.
Candy Elliott
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Loves animals more than most people
Find me on Insta at https://www.instagram.com/sixfootcandy/
Sometimes I socialize just so I can leave and complain about having to socialize.
Sometimes I put my food in the microwave, hit “Pizza Reheat,” and hope for the best. It’s in the microwave’s hands now.
My husband was annoyed after spending $65 on two burgers and fries, so I said, “Bet yours could blow these away.” His eyes lit up. “Really? I’ll make some tomorrow!”
Two days later, I did the same with pasta.
And that’s how I Jedi mind-tricked my husband into becoming our chef.
One day, you’re young and carefree. The next, you completely understand why your grandparents ate dinner at 4:00.
Me: Goodnight.
Brain: Hey.
Me: No.
Brain: Remember that weird pain earlier? Pretty sure it was deadly.
Me: It was just a cramp. Go to sleep!
Brain: …But what if it wasn’t?
Brain: Hey.
Me: No.
Brain: Remember that weird pain earlier? Pretty sure it was deadly.
Me: It was just a cramp. Go to sleep!
Brain: …But what if it wasn’t?
Unpopular opinion: I couldn’t care less about Valentine’s Day. Love isn’t about grand gestures on a specific date—it’s about consistency, effort, and showing up every day.
I really feel for couples who started dating in late January—now they’re stuck deciding between buying a gift or faking their own disappearance.
For Valentine’s Day, I’m gift-wrapping a shirt my husband hasn’t worn in years. It’s the thought that counts—and technically, I thought of it twice.
Good afternoon to everyone except those who claim celery sticks are a worthy Super Bowl snack just because they crunch like nachos.