Everyone should have a friend they can text some straight nonsense to at any hour; someone who moves at exactly your speed when you need them to, brings out your less inhibited self when appropriate, and appreciates the 90s as much or more. Maybe that’s just our thing. But seriously, the 90s were fucking rad, and if you don’t think so, you’re a fucking weirdo.
Her name isn’t actually Jane, but she’s saved in my phone as Jane Lane because of course she is.
Jane: But really…Iron & Wine groupies?
Me: Something. I feel like I’m in a perpetual rut.
Jane: I’m over this week.
I’m tired and being pulled in 500 directions.
Me: I basically feel two emotions at work; boredom and something on the anger scale.
Jane: Did you guys start my fundraising jar? – So we can be Iron & Wine groupies and not have to work, obviously.
Me: Lol. No. Not sure how to pitch that.
Me: I just want to experience life, and I feel like I’m not.
Jane: I just want regular sex and a sandwich.
Me: Sorry Harrison is taken.
Jane: I’m old enough to be Harrison’s babysitter.
Me: You’ve slept with younger.
Jane: Yes, I’m aware I was sleeping with someone younger than Harrison.
Jane: 30s or bust.
What about a sandwich?
Me: Harrison makes sandwiches and puts weird things on them.
Jane: Stop trying to pimp your bf out.
Keep and eye out for a 30-something with a sandwich.
Me: Oh my god. The Secretary of Energy might be a real live Oompa Loompa.
I’m watching Colbert.
Jon Stewart and a sandwich…life goals.
Me: I miss him.
Me: Fuck is it Friday yet?
I kept thinking tomorrow is Friday because I’ve only worked 3 days the last 2 weeks.
I really want to date a guy with a man bun just to piss you off.
Me: Well, that’s awfully spiteful.
Me: I would cut it off in his sleep.
Jane: What is this? Samson and Delilah?
Me: Oh shit. He would lose his strength, wouldn’t he? That probably includes sexual strength. There goes your regular sex.
Jane: Well, he better make good sandwiches then.