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:

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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!"

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I can't even sit down with my family at night to watch a movie or eat dinner.

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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?

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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?

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I never even learned how to sharpen a pencil. Or use a pencil. Or write.

My life is falling apart in front of me.

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This is my burden. Mine and the dozens like me.

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This is the plight of the infomercial actor.

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So let us raise our glasses and drink to this miserable life

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Or not, because fuck this blender.