Excuse me — I’m 25 and I work as a temp receptionist at a finance company. My dad got me the job. I have no background in finance whatsoever. People in the office are nice to me because they know my dad.
Pardon me — I have a liberal arts degree in Film Studies. Note: not to be mistaken with Film Production. Film Studies is just like an English degree for people who are too afraid to set up a tripod but are happy to shit on Hitchcock with elitist language no problem.
Sorry— I have never been published in anything yet I still call myself a “writer.” Sometimes I submit pieces for shits and giggles, but when I get rejected there are neither giggles nor shits — anxiety makes me quite constipated, and being constipated makes me sad.
Excuse me— I’ve tried yoga once, but now I just make up my own stretches at home instead. They feel good for the most part although I did fuck up my neck the other day.
Behind you — I’m a failed stand-up comedian, which means I used to bomb more regularly at open mics and bar shows. Now I just bomb on social media or in front of my therapist.
Watch out — If I get more than 10 likes on a Facebook status I’ll keep the status up. Usually the status has to do with eating, pooping, or a good TV show because I’m just so goddamn relatable yet so quirky at the same goddamn time.
Coming through — I think I’m in a relationship with a person I met on Bumble. I asked if I was his girlfriend. He asked if I wanted to be. I shrugged and asked if he wanted me to want to be his girlfriend. He shrugged. I still don’t know if I’m his girlfriend.
Pardon me — I want to write for television, so I watch a lot of TV and convince myself I’m doing “homework”. If the show is good enough, I forget that I’m supposed to be doing “homework.” Ozark is good enough, but my favorite show is still COPS.
Whoopsies— I didn’t vote. I’ve never voted. Trump is gross. Hillary is weird. Bernie is a sweet old ideologue whose house probably smells like moth balls. I like Obama because I’m still on my parents health insurance (for now).
Sorry — I didn’t go to the second women’s march because I had to take a shit, shower, finish laundry, and lay horizontally on the couch. I did, however, go to the first women’s march, stayed for 10 minutes, got Thai food, and rode my first and last Citi Bike home. The bike seat hurt my vajayjay, and I almost ran over a baby, but overall it was a good time.
‘Scuse me — My favorite food is carbs. And dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. I cook sometimes — I can make a mean piece of toast. Mmmmm do you hate me yet? Because by now you should.
Apologies— I subscribed to the Wall Street Journal to make it look like I’m a business woman. Most of the time I end up recycling the paper and reading Daily Mail on my phone. But at least I can say I recycle.
Oops-a-daisy— I have a pile of clothes for Goodwill that’s been sitting in my apartment for months. Goodwill is located down the block from me.
Forgive me — I have a dog — well it’s my family dog — but I like to think it’s really my dog. I don’t take care of it. My parents do. I just come home once a week and mush my dog’s face and project human emotions onto him. He’s so regal and wise when he lays in the grass.
Look out— I’ve been reading the same Zadie Smith book for 2 years. It’s not that I don’t like it — it’s just that it’s hard to read for fun when there’s Candy Crush and Instagram stories from townies you went to high school with.