1. I Own No Ingredients

I currently have two items in my fridge: ketchup and beer. I rarely have food in my kitchen and I only cook when forced to for a social gathering. Luckily, most of my friends know better, but if some poor sap assigns me a dish for their potluck, I need to start from scratch ingredients-wise. I spend all kinds of cash on spices that I will never use again and excess produce that will soon go bad. It’s such a hassle and a total waste. Not to mention that I ALWAYS forget something and have to go back.

2. I Don’t Understand Portions

If I’m cooking for one, I end up with too much. If I’m cooking for twenty, I end up with too little. I double recipes I should be halving and halve recipes I should be doubling. I have no concept of how many people 4 cups of pasta will serve and Google is super indecisive.

3. Knives

4. “Medium” Is Not A Standard Unit of Measurement

I hate recipes. They toss around words like “medium” like they’re universally agreed upon units of measurement. I own one saucepan. Is it a medium saucepan? Apparently not, because when I used it for a mac & cheese recipe that called for a “medium saucepan,” I ended up with a cheddar-covered kitchen. And don’t even get me started on “pinches” or “fistfulls”. These aren’t forms of measurement! Give it to me in terms of tea spoons or cups!

5. Kitchen Appliances Are Terrifying

I’ve taken a gas oven fireball to the face, caught my finger in an electric mixer and blown up a microwave using an As Seen on TV egg cooker. I’m sure with practice I could learn how to properly use these appliances (except the Egg Wave which was just a piece of junk), but I’m fearful of the pain and destruction I would cause in the process.

6. I Don’t Know When Things Are Done

“Microwave 3.5 minutes on medium-high.” These are instructions I can handle. “Bake until edges are golden brown.” NOPE. The edges look sort of brown, but how brown is golden brown and what constitutes “edge”? Is it the whole edge or just the very edge? Which leads me to my next point…

7. I’m Super Scared of Burning Stuff

If I’ve put in all the time and effort of gathering ingredients and making something, I don’t want to drop the ball at the finish line by burning it. So, I usually pull up a chair and watch it cook. Opening the oven or pot every few minutes to make sure it isn’t overcooking. Then, I take it out too early. Almost everything I make is undercooked. In my head, undercooked is somehow better than burnt, but in actuality it isn’t. At all.

8. Having To Serve My Mess To Other People

Once I’ve completely ruined whatever it is I’ve attempted to make, there’s that last minute decision between throwing it away or bringing it to an event for others to consume. If I show up with nothing, it looks like I didn’t try, but if I show up with an inedible disaster, people will feel obligated to try it. The only plus to the latter is that people will usually be polite and compliment my dish, but they will never ask me to cook for them again. Win/Win!

9. Food Poisoning

As I’ve stated above, I have a history of undercooking and typically only cook when I’m obligated for a social event. These two things combine to form a massive fear of giving people food poisoning. It’s one of my biggest fears to bring food to a party and get everyone sick, though. I surround myself with people who don’t ever let things go, I’d be hearing about it for the rest of my life.

10. Cleaning Dishes

This isn’t so much something that makes me nervous as much as something that I hate and dread. I suppose for people who enjoy the cooking this is just a small consequence to an otherwise enjoyable experience. To me, it’s like torture after imprisonment. I’ve gone through the hell of buying ingredients, chopping them, measuring them, mixing them, seasoning them and cooking them… now I’ve got to wash all this crap? Ugh. Torture.

Featured image via Shutterstock 

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Here are ten reasons why allergies make me nervous and I would give just about anything (not TV or internet) to get rid of them forever.

1. I Never Knowing When They’ll Attack

This weekend I had plans to go to a bar and celebrate Cinco de Mayo with friends. Instead, I ended up in bed celebrating Benadryl with my Claritin comforter. You know how people are allowed to mess with you, but the second they mess with someone you love all bets are off? Well, I happen to love my plans. So, you know what, Allergies? You can mess with me all you want, but don’t you dare go near my plans ever again. Or. Else. Oh, what’s that? You’re coming back next weekend to ruin my dinner plans? Cool. See ya then.

2. Sometimes I Look Stoned At Work

I have the type of allergies that come with itchy red eyes. I have prescription eye drops that help with the itchy and Visine that helps with the red. I can’t mix the two and neither works for both. Given the choice between comfort and cosmetic, I usually go for comfort. This means sometimes looking stoned at work. I’m honestly surprised no one’s ever asked for a drug test.

3. Snot Monitoring

Not only am I allergic, but I’m super prone to sinus infections. This means when my allergies flare up, I spend a significant amount of time monitoring the color of my snot to make sure I’m not getting an infection. This snot monitoring sitch is almost as stressful as it is gross.

4. Tissue Emergencies

Running out of tissues is probably a 7 out of 10 on my personal disaster scale. Especially if I’m on a beach or in a car or somewhere where toilet paper isn’t easily accessible. With me, it’s not a matter of if I’m going to need a tissue, but when. It’s only a matter of time before booger disaster strikes and I need to be ready, alert and armed at all times.

5. Benadryl Trips

I only take Benadryl as an absolute last resort. This stuff knocks me out and I usually have to schedule it into my day. If I take one Benadryl at noon, I’m out until two. If I take two, I’ll be out until three or four. One time I took half a Benadryl at work and a week later a bunch of weird puzzles showed up from Amazon. Odd stuff happens when I’m tripping on the ‘dryl and while I can’t say I’ve ever dropped acid, I imagine it can’t be all that different than taking two Benadryl.

6. Developing New Allergies

I first saw an allergist and got tested when I was eleven. Things weren’t that bad, so they gave me some meds and sent me on my way. Then, at age twenty-four, I went back. Turns out, you can get so much more allergic in thirteen years! I had no idea you could develop new allergies as an adult. I thought allergies were something you were either born with or not. One of my best friends developed a life-threatening wheat allergy at age twenty-three. She went her whole life eating wheat and now it could kill her. That’s so scary! No one is safe!

7. They Can Kill People!

Ricky Schwartz. . . Thomas J. . . Bill Haverchuck. These are just a few victims of allergy-related death. Okay, Bill didn’t actually die, but he totally could have! Allergies can kill people and that is terrifying. On that note…

8. I’m Afraid of My Epi Pen

My doctor prescribed me an epi pen. I don’t currently have any life-threatening allergies, so it’s just a precaution. However, if I ever do end up in a situation where I’m having an allergy attack and my throat is closing up, I don’t know that I’d be able to use it. It’s not that I don’t know how, the nurses clearly demonstrated and had me practice with a fake one for like an hour. It’s just that I don’t know if my instinct in that situation will ever be to jam a sharp object into my thigh. (Note To Self: teach friends how to use epi pen.)

9. “It’s Just Allergies!”

You know how in the “Flu Season” episode of Parks and Rec Leslie throws up multiple Claritin, but still insists that her illness is just allergies? That’s me. The second I start to get sick I tell myself, “It’s just allergies!” The thing is, sometimes it’s not just allergies and I’ll have wasted time treating myself for allergies when I should have been treating myself for the flu. So from now on, just to be safe, I’m just going to assume I always have the plague and act accordingly.

10. Am I Depressed or Just Allergic?

When my allergies are bad, I lose interest in things I normally enjoy, I shut myself off from friends and family, I lose my appetite, I’m always tired and I sleep more than usual. Sound familiar? Probably because you’ve heard all of these things listed in an ad for Zoloft. I get into such a deep funk when my allergies are bad that it hits a point where I can no longer tell if I’m allergic or just depressed. Eventually something forces me out of bed and I rejoin society, but there’s usually a day or two when I wonder if I should be searching Yelp for a therapist.

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Hi, Debbie Downer here to interrupt your pleasant perusing of HelloGiggles! Just wanted to let you know… BIRD FLU IS BACK! (Wah wah wahhhh) Okay, but for reals, the bird flu is back. A total of 109 cases of H7N9 have been reported in China, including 23 that have resulted in death. The good news is, the disease has not been found to spread from person to person. The bad news is, scientists are referring to it as “one of the most lethal influenza viruses” they’ve seen. So, there’s that. Yay!

Now, back to your scheduled programming. Here are ten reasons, besides the fact that they’re probably going to kill us all, that birds make me nervous.

1. Birds Poop On Cars

Getting my car washed is a luxury. I do it rarely and when I do, it’s usually only because my windshield has become a safety hazard. On the rare occasion that I have gotten my car washed though, a bird has pooped on it almost instantly. It’s like they’re lined up on outside the car wash, locked and loaded, ready to attack.

2. Birds Poop On People

This has been a major fear of mine since 1995, the year Now and Then came out. If you’re unfamiliar with the film, there’s a scene in which one of the girls gets pooped on by a bird. Her friends laugh at her as she panics and screams, “Get it out! Get it out!” It’s pretty traumatic and disgusting. Also, if you haven’t seen Now and Then you should probably fix that immediately.

3. Birds Fly Into Windshields

One time a bird flew into my friend’s windshield while she driving on a highway. She slammed her breaks and spun out, luckily there weren’t other cars around. I’m not sure if the bird was suicidal or if the glass was just so clean that it didn’t see it, either way, it’s pretty scary. Though, I guess if it’s the latter I’m in good shape with my perpetually filthy windshield.

4. Birds Steal Food

Especially seagulls. Seagulls are the worst. Sorry, Scuttle, but it’s true. Why you guys gotta be all up in my PB&J? I’m already battling sandwich sand, I don’t need your nonsense. Shoo! Shoo!

5. Birds Steal Small Pets

Wildlife experts say some large birds can lift animals twice their body weight. There you are, hiking with your tiny purse pup and the next thing you know, some entitled hawk snatches her up and flies away! That’s so terrifying! Though, it could also make for a really cool Pixar film if the dog and the hawk encounter trouble and are forced to band together in order to survive, while forming a lifelong friendship. The dog gets dropped off a week later and the hawk rejoins his flock, but every time he flies south for the winter (do hawks fly south?) the hawk pays his fuzzy friend a visit. Crap, where was I? Six? Six!

6. Birds Are Bad Omens

Pop culture has made it pretty clear that crows and ravens are bad omens. Need some examples? Fine. The Crow, The Raven, The Birds and The Vampire Diaries. Though, The Vampire Diaries totally drops the whole crow thing after the pilot. Also, if the crow represents Damon and I’m team Delena, wouldn’t that be a good omen for me? I dunno, but if I see a crow anywhere near me at night, I get the heebie-jeebies.

7. Birds Wake Me Up

Remember on Friends when Phoebe’s boyfriend shot a bird who kept chirping outside his bedroom window? Okay, I’m not saying I support murdering birds, but… I understand the frustration. Sometimes I need my sleep and there’s some loud mouth chirping away outside my window and… again, NOT promoting bird murder, just saying sometimes birds are obnoxious and sleep is important to our health and well-being. But, while we’re on dead birds…

8. Dead Birds Fall From The Sky

A couple weeks ago I was walking into work and there was a dead bird in our courtyard area. It was just lying there on its back, legs up, eyes open. It was one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen. After I sent an email to maintenance, I starting thinking about bird death and how if birds die while flying, their bodies just plummet back to earth. Depending on the size and altitude of the bird, that could do some serious damage! How is this not in the news all the time?

9. Birds Have Dinosaur Feet

Which, according to paleontologists (like Ross Gellar!) at the Natural History Museum means that “birds today are direct descendants of the Cretaceous extinction survivors.” They survived MASS EXTINCTION! These fools are hiding something and I just don’t trust ‘em.

10. If They Ever Band Together, We’re Screwed

There may be between 100,000 and 200,000 million adult or near adult birds on the planet at any one time. That is so many birds! Now, add to that the fact that these birds have secret powers which allow them to survive mass extinction. If at some point they all decide to put their birdly differences aside and join together to overthrow us, we’re screwed. They could totally take us. In fact, I wouldn’t be totally shocked if that’s what happened to the rest of the dinosaurs. Jurassic Park meets Hunger Games. All Cretaceous creatures go in, only the bird survives. (Also a movie I’d watch.)

Note from the author: I know nothing about birds or dinosaurs.

Featured image via Shutterstock

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Guys, I am so jealous of everyone involved in this story. It has been a lifelong dream of mine to catch a bad guy and these people, especially the woman who thought it was a joke and laughed in his face, are living that dream. The closest I’ve ever gotten is one summer during high school when I worked at CVS and almost caught a shoplifter. I was nearing the end of my shift, minding my business and cleaning up the baby aisle, when a dude walked by wearing a humongous trench coat. I instantly knew this guy was up to no good, that coat was way too warm for the climate and he had sketchy written all over his face. This was my shot. After sixteen long years on this planet, I was finally going to catch a bad guy.

I had to play it cool, though, I’d waited a long time for this and I didn’t want to blow it. So I casually continued to dust the diaper aisle, while slowly moving in closer. When I was within range, I glanced over in his direction and there he was, past the bottles and Johnson & Johnson, piling baby formula into his trench coat. I acted quickly and according to my extensive CVS Employee Handbook, which instructed us never to confront shoplifters verbally or physically, but to simply smile at them and make them aware of our presence. So, I turned to this trenched up bad guy and I smiled. Within seconds of spotting my goofy grin, he was running past me, down the aisle and toward the door. He knew I meant business.

I followed him down the aisle, keeping a safe distance, waving my arms to get my shift manager’s attention. It was no use, the guy was already halfway out the door before anyone even realized what I was doing. It looked like the bad guy was gonna get away. But then, out of nowhere, one of the customers threw his Tide and toothpaste to the ground and took chase. He was a man of action, who was clearly unfamiliar with the CVS Employee Handbook, which explicitly told us never to chase a customer outside the store. Anyway, so this dude was running as fast as he could after the thief. Per typical mob mentality, everyone in the store ran out to watch. The customer chased him through the parking lot, down the street and into a field. The weight of the baby formula combined with the heat of the jacket must have started weighing on the bad guy, because Tide Guy was gaining on him fast. He was within feet of him when, all of a sudden, he launched forward and DOVE at him. Full on Superman dive. His hands grasping the coat as his heroic body hit the ground. Trench Coat, who did not see that coming, stumbled, threw off the jacket and sprinted off into the woods. Moments later, the customer returned with the abandoned coat, FIFTEEN containers of baby formula and all the glory that could have been mine.

After the police arrived and surveyed the security footage, I asked if they needed me to go down to the station to give an official statement. They were uninterested. Apparently they only needed one employee statement and the shift manager sent my coworker Tiffany. Tiffany, who was always so busy flirting with the photo lab guy that she probably didn’t even see anything, got to go ride down to the police station in a squad car and give an official statement, while I had to go back to dusting the diaper aisle. It was so totally unfair. He was my bad guy and I didn’t even get my name in the police report.

So, yeah, I hope that pizza place girl and passing motorist realize how lucky they are. Not only did they get to catch a bad guy, they got to do it in one of the coolest ways possible. That girl literally laughed in the face of danger and that dude got to tail someone. What I would give to have the opportunity to tail someone.

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With that being said, I could never handle being a celebrity. The pressure of having to be “on” all the time and having the futures of a billion kids in my hands would be too much. I have a “Little Sister” through the Big Brothers Big Sisters program and that alone can be nerve-wracking. Here are ten reasons why being a role model makes me nervous…

1. Pop Music Is Filthy

My Little Sister and I were rocking out in the car yesterday and all of a sudden I realized I was singing, “your sex takes me to paradise,” alongside a 12-year-old. It was completely inappropriate. So I casually struck up a conversation and switched the station to Taylor Swift. Then, Rihanna’s “S&M” came on. There’s no use. Pop music is filthy.

2. Accidental Swearage

I try to keep my potty mouth clean around the youngin’. However, when some [expletive] on the [expletive] highway is about to cross into my [expletive] lane, it can be challenging not to scream expletives. I’ve let one or two slip, but let’s be honest it’s nothing she hasn’t already heard.

3. Social Networking

My Twitter and Instagram accounts are public and I am in my 20s. I’m legally allowed to go out to a bar and have a few drinks with friends. Yet, I feel like if I post a picture of myself out at a bar having a few drinks with friends, it will glamorize alcohol and encourage youths to raid their parents liquor cabinet. I know this isn’t how it works. Kids aren’t parrots built to mimic your every move, but I just don’t want anything I do or say or post to ever encourage a kid’s poor life choices.

4. Snack Selection & Body Image

When I was in high school, I ate like a Gilmore Girl. Unfortunately, my metabolism has changed and I can no longer shovel down cookie dough and ice-cream the way I used to. This becomes an issue when selecting snacks with kiddo. I don’t want to force body image issues on her, but I also know I shouldn’t be eating Hot Cheetos and Takis like a tween. There’s such a fine line between encouraging healthy eating habits and inducing eating disorders. I’m terrified of crossing it. I usually just eat the Cheetos and balance them out with a salad later, she’s a kid, she has the rest of her life to worry about calorie content.

5. Forcing My Opinions Onto Her

When I was in high school, I begged my parents to let me go to Washington, D.C. for the March for Life. All my friends were going and I didn’t want to miss out, but my parents said no. They didn’t think I was mature enough to have a concrete opinion on such a complex subject. They didn’t judge me or try to force their views on me, but allowed me the time to grow up and learn for myself. I’m so grateful they did. This is how I try handle tricky topics with the Little, but if asked about something I feel passionately about, sometimes it’s hard not to persuade towards what I feel is right. It’s another fine line.

6. Stepping On Parental Toes

I never know how educated kids are in terms of sex, drugs and alcohol. If asked a question, I want to answer it honestly, but I also don’t want to give more information than their parents are comfortable with them having. It’s so hard to know what’s fair game and what’s not. I’m just waiting for the day I say something I shouldn’t to a kid and create drama at home.

7. Not Knowing All The Answers

When you’re a kid, you just expect grownups to know things. I took my Little to a science museum and it was so embarrassing. She had so many intelligent questions about animals and astronomy and it pained me that I didn’t have any answers.

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“Aren’t you lonely?” and “Don’t you love it?” These are the two questions I get when I tell people I live alone. It’s one or the other. They either can’t fathom the idea of living alone or think it’s the best thing ever. I am of the “best thing ever” camp. I’m a bit of an introvert, somewhat of a slob and deathly allergic to confrontation. So, it’s the perfect living sitch for me. I get my daily dose of “me” time, while never having to worry about fighting with roomies over dishes or drain hair. Though, just as young Kevin McCallister learned, the independence of living alone has its consequences. Here are ten reasons why living alone makes me nervous.

1. Strange Noises

When you live alone, every strange noise is something that’s probably going to kill you. The wind rattling the front door is a burglar. The hiss of the heater is a toxic gas leak. The car backfire is the gunshot of a trained killer who knows enough not to leave witnesses. Without roommates to tell me I’m crazy, these things seem wholly possible and often result in lack of sleep. Speaking of lack of sleep…

2. Spiders

You might be saying, “Well, you’d have spiders in your apartment even if you had a roommate.” To which I say, “Yeah, but at least it would be two against one.” Do you know how many spiders I’ve let slip through the cracks while living alone? I turn my back for a second to grab a tissue and poof… he’s gone. I lay awake all night, knowing he’s out there, waiting to make a move. Having a roommate means having someone to run surveillance while I tissue-up. It also means having someone to backup my story later on when I tell everyone the tale of the six inch spider.

3. No One To Borrow From

You’re running late for work, you run out of toothpaste and you live with roommates, no big deal.  You bum some Crest off someone for a day or two until you have a chance to get to the store. You’re running late for work, you run out of toothpaste and you live alone, you’re screwed. You’re either going to work with unbrushed teeth or stopping to buy toothpaste, making you even more late. When you live alone, there’s no one around to borrow from, which kinda blows.

4. There’s No “We” In “Living Alone”

If you screw up, it’s on you and only you. The angry note from the guy upstairs will not be addressed to “Residents of Apt. 3”, it will be addressed to you. You alone will face dirty looks in the laundry room after waking everyone up with your 3am dance party.  And if something breaks, the landlord knows you’re the one who broke it. There’s no shared responsibility. Everything that happens in your pad is on your shoulders and when the landlord is pulling a crazy amount of hair from the drain and blaming you for destroying his plumbing, there’s no one there to share the guilt with.

5. Getting Ready Alone

My favorite part of having roommates was getting ready to go out together. Aside from the fact that it’s more fun to get pretty as a group, roommates are great to have around for catching things like unremoved store tags, unzipped flies and mascara smudges. I also find that I’m less likely to forget something if I’m going through a checklist with someone. “ID?” Check! “Keys?” Check! Without roommates, I’m always nervous that I’m going to walk out the door keyless, with a big ol’ stain on my butt.

6. I Need To Be Judged Sometimes

If there’s no one around to say, “You’re better than this,” when I’m shoveling peanut butter into my mouth with my bare hands, I’m probably going to continue shoveling peanut butter into my mouth with my bare hands. Roommates force me to see myself from the outside and adjust accordingly. Left to my own devices, I fear I will turn into a complete monster.

7. I’m Not Prepared for Your “Pop-In”

I have a few friends who are fans of the “pop-in”. They show up on a random Sunday afternoon just to chat. When I had roommates, I loved these “pop-ins”. My apartment was usually relatively neat and I was always somewhat presentable out of respect for my roomie and the possibility that she may have someone over. Now that I live alone, I’m not used to having people around and I’ve grown accustomed to my bra-less squalor. “Pop-ins” are my worst nightmare.

The post 10 Reasons Living Alone Makes Me Nervous appeared first on HelloGiggles.

1. Discovering Typos After Tweeting

Sometimes I get really excited about a tweet and post it hastily, without proofing all 140 characters thoroughly enough. Then, after a fav or two, I realize there’s a big fat embarrassing typo. Thus begins the battle between perfectionist and attention-whore. Do I delete and correct the tweet, losing favs? Or do I leave the typo, allowing the positive attention to cancel out the embarrassment? I usually fix the typo.

2. Sometimes 140 Isn’t Enough!

I’ve never been one for brevity. In high school, I would lessen the font size of spaces and periods in order to get around the page-restriction on my history papers (sorry Mr. Paul). So, being limited to 140 characters is rough for me. When a tweet runs long, I usually spend a few minutes reading it over, cutting as many grammar corners as possible, trimming it down until it’s just a skeleton of its former self. Then, I delete it. Perhaps Twitter could learn a lesson or two from the USA Network, where characters are welcome.

3. Hurting Someone’s Feelings

I have so many funny things to say about the people around me, but the people around me are all on Twitter. You have no idea how many tweets I’ve deleted out of fear of someone finding it. I’m not even talking coworkers, friends and family members. I’m talking straight up strangers. I dream of a world in which I can make a snarky comment about the mean barista at Starbucks without fear of him cyber stalking me and getting his feelings hurt.

4. The @ Reply vs. The Fav

I’m don’t understand social networking etiquette. If someone replies to one of my tweets, am I socially obligated to reply back to them? What if I have nothing to say? I don’t want to clog people’s feeds with a “thanks!”, but I also don’t want to be rude. I usually just fav it, but that seems weird and condescending. Like, “I see you, but I don’t care enough to reply to you.” Ugh. Somebody needs to write a Twitiquette book. I officially nominate Mindy Kaling.

5. Follow Friday

Speaking of Twitiquette, Follow Friday is terrifying. Every Friday, I get war-time flashbacks of planning middle school sleepovers. Staring at the list of names, only being allowed to invite six. Who makes the cut? Who doesn’t? Someone is going to be left out and their feelings will be hurt. So, just like all the sleepovers I never had, I don’t participate in Follow Friday. I don’t get #FF-ed and I don’t #FF anyone else. It’s just better that way. I can’t handle the pressure.

6. FOMO

My Fear of Missing Out has extended itself to social networking. I used to have an obsession with reading every tweet on my feed. It was a constant battle trying to keep up. Luckily, I’ve given up this addiction. I miss A LOT of tweets now, which makes me nervous because what if someone tweets something life-altering and I miss it? What then? Oh, I can go to Kelly Oxford‘s page directly and read all her tweets at once? Awesome. Nevermind.

7. Sub Tweeting

Apparently, “sub tweeting” is when someone expresses their passive aggression via Twitter. Now, I’m ALL for passive aggression. It’s pretty much my main form of communication. However, if you’re tweeting about how you hate when people tweet stupid crap, I will assume you are tweeting about how I tweet stupid crap. This is how my brain works. I definitely think this tweet is about me. I’m so vain. Get over it, Carly Simon.

8. Losing Followers

I’d love to tell you that I don’t subscribe to who.unfollowed.me or check it whenever I lose a follower, but that would be a lie. You better believe I check to see who is unfollowing me. If I could give people an exit interview, I would. I can’t help it. It takes effort to unfollow someone! You need to leave your timeline and go to their homepage and click a button. That’s multiple steps! What have I done to drive you to this point? Have my laundry tweets offended you? I thought we had something special.

9. New Followers

Whenever I get a new follower, especially if it’s someone I admire, I feel added pressure to impress. Whatever I tweet next needs to be good, up to par, gotta keep the people interested. So, I usually just don’t tweet for a few days, which defeats the purpose. No, I’m never pleased. Why do you ask?

10. What’s Your Game, Spam Accounts?

They follow a billion people, have a semi-pornographic avatar and zero followers. What’s the point? Is it just to make people look at the semi-pornographic avatar? We’re already on the internet, we’ve seen worse. I don’t get it. There needs to be a reason for these things to exist. Are they hacking into our accounts? Are they collecting personal data from all of us and slowly taking over the world? What’s your deal, spambots? If I follow one of you back, will you DM me all your secrets?

Feature Image found via bullybloggers

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