Humans should be built like Mr. Potato-head. Need to sleep on your side? Take an arm off. Need to carry 72 bags of groceries? Add some hands. Have a migraine? Remove your eyes.
Dumb as fuck? Add a brain
Between the indelible mustard stains on my pants and the skin condition on my arms, if I step under a black light I glow like a disco ball.
So yeah, you could "technically" call me the light of your life.
Recipe for a timeline:
1 cup - sense of humor
1/2 cup - common sense
2 tbsp - thick skin
A splash of trauma
A pinch of self acceptance
Mix thoroughly and allow to set until firm. Lightly dust with sarcasm. Serves 8.1 billion.
My husband is great at making playlists if you want to listen to the same 14 songs 387 times each, sometimes back to back with the odd remix thrown in to keep you on your toes.
I put my pants on like everybody else...
Both legs at once, flopping around, struggling like I'm wrestling a wet seal, only to find they are inside out once I finally get them all the way up.