Lately it seems like all of my friends are getting married or pregnant. I thought I had a few more years before they all lost their damn minds, but apparently 20 is a great age to give up on life. Then they get fat. I love being told that my life must "seem really empty.  You know, because you’re single." That line is usually followed by "But at least you have your dog, right?" Yes, yes I do have my dog. And unlike your fiancé, my dog only pees in designated locations and shuts the fuck up while I’m gaming

I talked to my ex a few days ago.  He was all, "I’m in a steady relationship," and I was all "I’ve been steadily whoring." Then this morning a stray cat showed up on my patio. I’m pretty sure that’s the first sign of becoming a crazy cat lady, which is totally unfair, because dying alone in an apartment covered in cat hair should be a voluntary decision. Also I still have a few years of being reasonably attractive left, and I’d like to take advantage of that, cat. You’re kind of an asshole. An adorable asshole. An adorable asshole that is currently, well, licking its own asshole. Shoo.

Weddings just seem so ridiculous. Especially the gift lists. I usually look to see if there are kitchen knives listed, and buy them those.  Just making sure they’re properly prepared for cooking Thanksgiving dinner… and a quick end to their inevitable hatred of each other. That’s what friends are for. I also find it really odd that people expect to be given towels for their wedding. Prove our friendship by buying me matching pieces of fabric that I carefully selected to match my wallpaper to dry my ass off with. Can’t I just start a fund for your divorce lawyers? The other thing people request is kitchen appliances. Let’s be honest, how about I buy you some Poptarts, since neither of you know how to cook, and you’re going to be too busy arguing to learn how to? Sure, I could get you a saucepan, but you’d fucking starve to death.

I don’t really know how relationships work, since most of my decisions go something along the lines of, "Well, he drives a Bumblebee car and Bumblebee kicks ass, so why not?" only to get annoyed because he thinks that the shitty movies were the original Transformers and is also kind of a douche, which probably should have been obvious, but okay. My largely unrelated point is, God put women on this earth to create sandwiches, so we’re basically kitchen appliances, and I know that when my toaster stops working and starts whining about its "feelings" I hit it until it shuts the hell up. I’m pretty sure that’s how relationships work, too.

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People also keep having babies. But not on accident. Actually planned. I never know if I’m supposed to pretend to be excited or sympathetic anymore. Although it seems to vary depending on which half of the couple I’m talking to. If a baby is only planned by one of its parents, is it planned or an accident?  Placcident, maybe? "Congratulations, it’s a tiny placcident you with poor bladder control!" Then they use Facebook to document every second of their baby’s life. That, or there’s some new spambot on Facebook devoted to posting pictures of baby crap titled "a doozy of a twosie," which, if you spend your free time photographing your child’s poo, also makes a great caption for your life.

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