somebody talk to me

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There’s something about when someone’s phone dies that makes me want to spam them.

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I’m not really sure why, but when an iMessage is sent and I don’t get that little “delivered” below the message, or I send a bbm with a grey check mark and no blue “D,” I all of a sudden think of lots of things that I really need to communicate to them to receive as soon as their phone comes back on. Such as:

I just tried to read a brainless book and ended up in a moral dilemma. Who in my life would I willingly donate a kidney to?

The other day I was on the skytrain and a man with shoulder-length white hair and no shirt or shoes sat down across the aisle from me. He had this little girl with him whom I thought was his granddaughter, until I looked at his face and realized he was probably only old enough to be her father. Or her kidnapper. What if I didn’t call the cops back then and I could have saved her?

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My first boyfriend is engaged.

Wait, that was my second boyfriend.

Oh God, my first boyfriend is married.

Is it ironic to capitalize God if you’re using his name in vain?

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This.

Or this.

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I just learned that the Monty Hall problem as it was taught to me in grade 9 was incorrect. This is why it has never fully made sense to me. I’m not sure if I’m upset or relieved.

Do you have any pink Starbursts left?

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Instead of crack I smoke salmon.

Just kidding. I don’t smoke anything.

I made pie, though.

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She’s My Cherry Pie, from Vegan Pie in the Sky by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero

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