I’m nervously watching my Facebook today to see if the stolen data notice pops up. In the meantime, memories like these are why it’s so hard to think about leaving. From a few years back:
Adam: Ugh, everything’s terrible.
Me: I’m gonna fix it for you.
Me: I’m gonna draw a dick on your forehead.
Adam: And that will solve my problem how?
Me: Perspective! Once you have a dick on your forehead, you’ll be, like, “Wow, I didn’t know easy I had it before I had a dick on my forehead.”
Adam: You’re the meanest lady I know.
Me: “Those were the days. The days when my forehead was dickfree.”
Adam: I’m sorry I cleaned your belt with saddle soap today.
Me: Aw, don’t feel bad. Because then, you see, you’ll find out that I drew the dick in washable ink. And you’ll feel so happy! It’ll be like that scene in “Fight Club,” only without the fear of death.
Adam: Are you on drugs?
Also here’s a cat that looks like the Punisher:
OK, fine, it’s Photoshopped. But technology should be used for *nice* things is my point.