It's 6:20pm and the doorbell rings. This is never a good sign. Sure enough, when I open the door, there's a lone young woman with one of those leather-like folders that almost always means magazine subscription sales. I begin to prepare my polite go-away response.
Much to my astonishment, I am greeted with:
"I'm sorry for disturbing you. Is your mom or dad home?"
Much to my astonishment, I am greeted with:
"I'm sorry for disturbing you. Is your mom or dad home?"
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Or did you tell her "I am my mom and dad!" which is the first thing that popped into my head just now? And gets creepier the longer I look at it....
I need sleep.
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I have, in many ways, turned into my mom -- including the acne well into middle age. Fortunately, though, I don't have myself as a daughter. That would be a little bit much for my brain to cope with.
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Is your credit card on fire?
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Right now I'm worse than the pimpliest teenager ever to walk the earth. I wonder to what extent it's hormonal.
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That is a good feeling, isn't it?
I love it when I get asked what my major is.
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I bet you NEVER thought you'd ever say, "Acne for the win" in your lifetime, didjya??
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I'm a 52 year old college student (again) and I guess they assumed from my name on a list that I live "at home."
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