Card Not Needed: Chia Lemon-Thyme Cocktail

-The oddest cocktail ever.-

Ask me. Ask me, you cock-holstering bitch. Don't you dare not. I swear to God if you don't I will kidnap you, smuggle you into a Slovakian whore house for leprosy patients, and tape dollar bills to the inside of your colon. ASK ME!

"That will be $21.20. Will that be all for you today?" the teen behind the register asked.

"Sure. Fine." I handed him my debit card trying to hide my boundless anger and disappointment. 

Fuck you, you son of a bitch.

"Thank you for shopping at Total Wine."

You won't be twenty-two forever! Someday you'll grow old, too! En-fucking-joy it! *internal and incoherent rage ensues*

This was the sixth time in two months I wasn't asked for photo identification when buying alcohol. I'm only two months short of thirty! I eat well! I work out! I look young for my age! 

Or... apparently not.

God. Damn. It.

The Temperature Inside: Blueberry Pie with Thyme & Honey + Fearless Chocolate Winners

-When your karma turns sour, make it sweet with pie.-

I have terrible apartment karma. Faulty buildings seem to lie dormant in my life like a virus, occasionally flaring up with all the intensity and rage of full blown outbreak. No, wait, karma assumes I’ve done something bad to deserve this. Maybe in a past life I was a Saxon who toppled some great tower or other architectural testament to man’s vanity and artistic nature? I’m not sure, but I'm pretty sure I haven’t done anything in this life to warrant this string of luck.

Maybe that’s it? I just have bad luck. A dark cloud of doom and asbestos plaguing me with bad wiring and old pipes.

“Then again,” I said to myself while standing in my bedroom looking at the giant water-filled hole that had been jackhammered in only hours earlier, “maybe it’s just freak coincidence.”