You’re Not Special

People are concerned about their privacy. And I get it. I do. For real, I wouldn’t want some random NSA agent watching me smoke weed and then proceed to eat my entire refrigerator. All while I binge watch TV for hours.


Recently I read an article where a couple was having a private conversation, which was then sent to the husband’s coworker by Amazon Alexa. Now, if you don’t own an Alexa, you know that while she’s pretty incredible, she doesn’t always get it 100% right.

Apparently, while this couple was having “a private conversation,” Alexa heard the wake word (usually “Alexa”, but can also be “Computer” or “Echo” or “Amazon”). She then proceeded to try and understand what they were saying, and heard “send message.” Alexa then asks “Okay, to whom?”, to which the couple probably said the coworker’s name. Alexa then asks what they want to send. The couple continues talking – in fact, they’ve been talking the whole time, and never heard Alexa talking to them.

My *guess* is that the conversation was probably about the coworker, which is how Alexa got his name. The volume level was set to 0 or 1, so, obviously, they didn’t hear her talking back. So she records them shit-talking about this coworker, and then (lol) sends it to him… karma’s a biiihhhh.


To all of you worrying about being spied on…. don’t.

No one is spying on you, because honestly, no one cares.

You’re not special.


Adult Truth #001

*cousin from California is visiting me & boyf*

*he’s going to make drinks for all of us*

*we have a large shitty-Ikea cabinet full of a variety of liquors*

(I hate Ikea so much, but that’s a story for another day)

*boyf explains that he stocked up on it all when he first moved here 3 years ago, and that we’re not drinking it fast enough, seeing as we’re moving across the country in a few months*

Cousin: “Wow, why did you buy so much?”

Boyf: “Well… I thought I’d have more friends.”



House Husband

Cooking is hard. I truly envy people who enjoy it. Honestly. It’s a lot of work. Think about it… You have to figure out what you’re going to cook and what ingredients you’ll need. Then you have to go to the grocery store and buy dem ingredients. Then you have to bring them home and unpack. Then you have to prep the ingredients. Then you have to actually cook it all.

Finally, you eat.

But you’re not done. Once you’re finished eating, you have to clean all dat shit up. It really is a lot of work. I’ve never enjoyed any part of cooking. Or baking. I’m not bad at either, and I definitely can make things good when I want to, but I hate doing it. Too much work. Even with Amazon Fresh delivering my groceries, I hate doing it. I truly am the laziest slug of all. And seeing as I am also a fat pos who loves good food, I just end up ordering delivery or eating out all the time. Which means




I need a house husband.



I don’t really have any hobbies. I’m not sure why exactly. I used to. I used to be able to point them out clearly: working out, crafting and painting, drinking wine, hanging with friends. And they were genuine hobbies. Now, I feel that I have nothing to do. That I’m wasting my time. But there’s nothing I really want to do.

If I were to pretend I enjoyed doing things, I’d say my hobbies are still working out, crafting and painting, drinking wine, hanging with friends. But I haven’t worked out in months (lol), crafted or painted in years (lolol). I occasionally drink wine, but it’s mostly weed for me. And I guess I hang with friends when I’m not tired, which is like once or twice a week.

I kind of like reading books, reading the news (actually, I really like reading the news now that I think about it…though it’s kinda depressing), writing. I guess I also enjoy listening to music, but there isn’t much good new music anymore. I don’t want to be one of those grumpy old people who’s like “bAcK iN mY dAy, mUsIcIaNs HaD tAlEnT!!!!1!/1/1” But I kind of actually think that. I’m sick of mumble rap and ghostwritten music.

Another hobby and passion of mine is wishing I was rich so I could quit my job and do what I want. But what do I want to do?