Today I ripped my pants while exiting a friend's vehicle.
I opened the door, jumped out enthusiastically, and caught my back pocket on some curiously sharp protrusion that, luckily, didn't get caught on my LEG.

The heartwrenching sound caught me off guard, and at first I thought it had torn my blessed jacket. I clutched my chest, and my jacket's life flashed before my eyes. The purchase, the warmth, the compliments. It was too much to handle. I could taste the blood.

Until I realized that no, in fact, my jacket was fine. Instead, my old raggedy jeans had been destroyed. They risked their lives to protect something more beautiful. And that's how life should be.

I used to have about 8034 pairs of socks, and now I swear I have about 3.
Woe is the life of a sock whose destiny is my hands.

People often complain when they see others order massive quantities of fast food, and accompany said food with a diet coke.
"Horrendous!" they proclaim. "If they're going to eat unhealthy, do they really think DIET coke will help their health? Idiots! Clearly I am better because I am thin and logical! Ho ho ho!"

But this simply leads me to wonder: What if they just like the taste of diet coke? Is it POSSIBLE that MAYBE someone actually LIKES drinking diet coke?
No.
Because it sucks.

When they remind us that there are starving teenagers in Africa who would do anything, oh ANYTHING, for a chance to study at a University, it doesn't really even make me appreciate what I've got. It just kind of makes me want to drop out and give my spot to someone actually deserving.