It happens every fucking time: I start to get the hang of things, and then the world goes to pieces.
It’s like, I take two seconds for a break because I’m fucking tired, and the universe decides that this respite is unacceptable, so it sends shit raining from the sky, the gigantic turds landing in my “shit to do” pile. Next thing you know, I’m rolling around in cosmic fertiliser, bawling my eyes out while frantically typing something, and smearing so much diarrhoea on my laptop that it’s a miracle I can even find the keys.
Along the theme of planetary port-a-potties, I figured I should force you, the internet, to wallow in misery with me: let’s discuss the worst feelings in the world.
Yes indeed, let us discard actual issues like discrimination, world hunger, and abuse in favour of examining minuscule problems that we can all get away from with a little humiliation, and a lot of walking. Because we’re just lazy that way (walking- ew…don’t make me exercise, that’s mean).
The worst feeling in the world? Choking when in the middle of a serious dinner. My knee-jerk reaction is always to make some sort of dirty joke to diffuse the awkwardness, but that only makes things worse: No, it’s fine, ignore me- I’ve had bigger things ramming down my throat! Add in a teary wink as I keep coughing up my lungs, and the entire table is swimming in tension-filled disapproval: What is this darn millennial doing in this professional environment? Get this lustful teenager out of here, she’s desecrating the purity of adulthood! It’s even worse at a family dinner, with my extended family and a bunch of family friends clustered around a white table cloth and helping themselves to unappetising appetisers…one dirty joke, and they stare at me like I just grew a second head, complete with a disembodied dick falling out of my mouth. Of course, they knew me when I was even more of a klutzy, awkward kid, so at least they’ve got an excuse. Professors and fellow students stuck in clinical with me, what’s your excuse? Defend yourselves!
Close second on the list of worst feelings is more writer-oriented: when you send an email to someone important, and there’s a glaring spelling/grammar issue. Maybe this isn’t that big of a deal for non-writers (if they even exist…at this point, writing is so ingrained in my life that it’s impossible to comprehend how people don’t write. What do they do when they’re too exhausted to do normal work? Relax? What a strange concept…), but to me, it’s like my chest just got sat on by an elephant; and to make things worse, the elephant sat on me at the exact wrong angle, and now my head is stuck in its asshole. Have you ever had your head stuck in an elephants shit hole? Well, it sucks. You can’t breathe, and your mouth immediately starts tasting like yesterday’s trip to the toilet.
The third on the list of shit feelings is really specific. Okay, toast is supposed to be hot and crunchy. If you leave it sitting on a plate for a minute before spreading butter and jam on top, it…changes. And not for the better. You get a film of liquid on it, soaking it. It’s like sweat. Bread sweat. Bread sweat is the third worst feeling in the world- your toast got corrupted by physics! The worst part is that you actually have to eat it after. What else are you going to do? Throw a perfectly good piece of bread out? Don’t be ridiculous- gluten is an important part of a stagnating adult’s body.
So, do you agree with my prognosis? Or do you -gasp!- have an alternate opinion?