There’s something about when someone’s phone dies that makes me want to spam them.
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?
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?
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?
Instead of crack I smoke salmon.
Just kidding. I don’t smoke anything.
I made pie, though.
She’s My Cherry Pie, from Vegan Pie in the Sky by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero