I Can't, Vol. 30

I CAN'T...

that I only have one set of sheets I actually even like. The other two are emergency backups for when my favorites are dirty or for when I feel bad enough to use them since they're never used. Look, guys. Great sheets are hard to find. You can settle for just about anything if it covers the bed, but to find the right ones with the right feel that make you moan out loud in orgasmic pleasure is tough. I love mine so much, I want to roll around on them naked... AND I DO.

I CAN'T...

that candy even has an expiration date. It's like, who's keeping candy for more than a few hours (besides Halloween collections, obvi)? I guess it's nice to know that this would be fine until June 2016, but I don't buy this shit to eat down the road. I buy it out of desperation, stress, and a sickening sweet craving I can't satisfy with gum or water or air. I buy it to eat it NOW. Like RIGHT NOW. In the bathroom stall. Or in the middle of the hallway. Or in the back corner of the office kitchen, in shame. The expiration date on candy should be like "Best before your illogical and all-consuming craving goes away and your rational mind kicks back in."

I CAN'T...

with this video or her caption for it. But, to be fair, I can't with her in general. So.

😛 I love you

A video posted by Kylizzle (@kyliejenner) on

       

I CAN'T...

with Kylie, but I can with just about every other Kardashian. There's just something about her that I can't get behind. Maybe it's that she's 12. Or is 12 and posts the pictures of herself that she does. Or that she wants to be her sisters more than her sisters want to be themselves. Or that she's 12 and just bought a mansion. Or that she's 12.

I can't...

that Kardashian isn't recognized in WordPress as a real word? I think Kris would be very upset to know that the name for which she has worked so hard to reach household-level status has a red squiggly underneath it in word documents.

I CAN'T...

with people who go to Chipotle and "make it healthy." Here's the deal, ok? Chipotle, yes, is generally healthy. Proteins, vegetables, salsas. Sure. But it's the bad stuff that makes it so fucking delicious: tortillas the size of Kim K's ass. Cilantro rice so good, you'd consider punching a child for it. Cheese and sour cream that they for sure lace with crack cocaine, like FOR SURE. All of those ingredients are what make Chipotle Chipotle. So, to tweak it so it's "healthier" is just bullshit. Why are you even here? To torture yourself? To ruin one of the only things in your life you love and can count on to be perfect every time? "Um, no rice please. Just meat and beans and the grilled veggies. Oh, and some corn. NO cheese, though. Or sour cream. Basically, can you ruin my night? Thanks so much." FUCK THAT. I will only go to Chipotle when a) I'm PMSing and deserve it or b) I'm in a horrible mood that's completely unrelated to PMS and deserve it or c) I've worked really hard all week at the gym and eaten like Giuliana Rancic, so it's time to "cheat"... because I deserve it.

I CAN'T...

with this picture of SPJ. Everything about it is perfect. I aspire to this picture most days. It doesn't ever look like I do, but I do. Flawlessly messy curls, grey sweatshirt, eyebrows not off fleek. Effortless but totally conscious badassery.

Screen Shot 2015-04-29 at 4.36.40 PM

I CAN'T...

eat pico de gallo. I know. It's not cool of me, but I guess it comes down to that I want salsa. Not chunks of fresh tomatoes. I want like spicy AF hot sauce salsa dip. However, bring me a jar of Pace after I ask for salsa, and I'll smash that shit right over your head.

I CAN'T...

think of a better and more natural way to guard yourself in self-defense by dismembering an entire body, placing it into garbage bags, and keeping the head. Everyone knows that when you accidentally murder someone, the next step is cutting off their limbs one at a time. DUH! #cadaver #beverley 

I CAN'T...

keep up with my place during the week anymore and it's really starting to scare me. I used to be the neatest of neat freaks, not leaving my home unless my bed was made. It was something I was raised to do (make the bed every morning), and represents a sort of calm in a world full of chaos. However, in the past year or so, not only do I not ever make my bed before leaving for work, I also leave clothes, dishes, the works out in the open for all to see and balk at. Either life has gotten busier or I've gotten lazier, or both. Has anyone else run into this problem as of late? Is it just me or is this a natural progression? 

I CAN'T...

drink hot coffee in the summer. I mean, I can  — I just prefer not to. Does anyone out there who maybe reads this have a suggestion for home-brewed cold coffee? Nothing too expensive as I am a writer.

I CAN'T...

see who unfollows my Instagram anymore. Iconosquare took that free asset away from me. But know this, unfollowers — up until a few days ago, I know who you are. I saw you. I looked your Instagram profile picture in its tiny little face and said "HUH" to myself. I know you have your reasons, just as I have mine for the accounts I unfollow. So I wanted to take this opportunity to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you hate my dog. I'm sorry that you think I'm ugly. I'm sorry that you think I'm pretty and are tired of seeing it. I'm sorry that I take selfies. I'm sorry that I think I have decent fashion sense and like to post my outfits. I'm sorry that you don't like my jokes or humor. I'm sorry that I'm into myself a little too much sometimes. I'm sorry that I seem happy and that bothers you. I'm sorry that you literally couldn't care less about me. I'm sorry that you don't really know why you followed me in the first place. But, most of all, I'm sorry that I'm not sorry for anything I just listed. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

xox,

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