You would be amazed at the number of things I get up to in order to avoid writing a paper I don’t want to write at the end of the semester. Like ogling recipes:
Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good
Also, I just got rejected from a job, again, so I must spend a few hours dancing around my apartment to You Think You’re a Man. Don’t knock it til you try it, people, this song has carried me through many a bad break-up, a job rejection, or just a plain old bout of low self-esteem. This goes out to all the asshole boys who think they’re men, everywhere, of every gender. So there.
Also, snacks! Eating is so much better than writing, don’t you think?
Peppermint Malt Balls? I’m intrigued.
Don’t even get me started on Etsy.
Not to mention Quitokeeto, I hate you but I love you Heidi.
Oh, and all the New Yorker articles I’m behind on, you know, the
Plus, the NYT ethical dilemma of the year.
And gosh, I still need to feed myself and put on pants and walk the dog, too. There’s absolutely no time to finish this paper.
