Life is seriously so hard. Between knocking over my bowl of Cheetos CONSTANTLY and not being able cook (literally I can't physically do it) sometimes I've got to ask myself:
Right? I slave away all day and the one thing I want to do is drill some holes in my wall when I get home. Why? Because I'm an American and it's my right. But then all of my shelves are like, "Nope!"
I can't even sit down with my family at night to watch a movie or eat dinner.
Do you know how terrible if feels to keep touching boiling hot spagetti straight from the pot because I don't know what else to do with it?
The truth is, I actually might be an infant with giant clumsy adult hands. What am I supposed to do with them? My hands, I mean. And the hole in my face that food goes into. Seriously, what do I do with these things?
I never even learned how to sharpen a pencil. Or use a pencil. Or write.
My life is falling apart in front of me.
This is my burden. Mine and the dozens like me.
This is the plight of the infomercial actor.
So let us raise our glasses and drink to this miserable life