As a recently made Single Lady (go ahead, scroll down a couple o’ posts to read of my humiliation), I think I’ve settled into the single life nicely. For example, my leg hair has officially grown past the point where you can see my skin. I haven’t showered in two days. And dinner last night was microwave popcorn. You know you’re single when you make a trip to the grocery story at 9:30 PM just to buy microwave popcorn. You know you’re really single when you can’t decide between Jolly Time Smart Balance, Springfield Butter Flavor, or Springfield Butter Flavor Light. I stood in the aisle, contemplating the pros and cons of each for what seemed like eternity. On the one hand, Jolly Time Smart Balance looked delicious. On the other hand, Springfield Butter Flavor Light actually was the best health-wise. But what if it tasted like shit? Then I should be safe and go with Springfield Butter Flavor. But Jolly Time! It looked so buttery and warm and yummy! So I bought all three. To taste test in the comfort of my room while in my grimy pajamas watching episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix.
I plucked a Jolly Time from the box and daintily placed it in the microwave for round one of my eat-o-rama. At the microwave beep (oh, what a joyous sound!), I removed the bag and shook it for good measure. I squinted my crusty eyes at the suspicious sound made only by a bag of half popped/half kernel. I nuked it for just five more seconds, wary of popcorn’s fickle aversion to cooking properly. I stopped it after four just to be safe. As I opened the bag, I was enveloped by a disparaging cloud of black smoke, as if the smoke monster from LOST found me after all. Really, popcorn? Really? Four FREAKING seconds later and you had to set yourself on fire? Your imminent demise in my mouth would have been that bad? But seriously, it seems like science gave me a “fuck you” on that one. To top off the night, my sister texted me wanting advice on the appropriate amount of time to text a guy after you get his number. There are too many appropriate gifs to mention for how I felt at this moment. For now, just conjure up Christian Bale’s “Ooooo, good for you!” I looked at her text, looked at my bowl of suicidal popcorn, and wondered if I should start writing Bridget Jones’ Diary 3 now or wait until the morning.