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They also never create any storylines outside of their own little dramas that exist between characters.Their stories exist around who is sleeping with whom, why is this person taking self-defense lessons, betraying each other by sleeping with another person, and all the things that make afternoon soap operas the worst programming on television outside of reality TV, which it also resembles in many cases. I rarely pay close attention to the non-important things I’m doing. It was a Saturday like any other, and I was lounging around in bed doing my second favorite in-bed activity: watching .But somewhere between perfecting a tweet in my head about just how annoying Lorelai Gilmore actually is when you watch as an adult, toggling between texts about dinner plans, and planning my hostile takeover from prodigal daughter to most favorite Shah child, I didn’t notice that I had toggled over one text too far and texted my mom. To the point that I once deleted two years worth of text chains on my i Phone, except the one with her, to free up storage space, and I didn’t gain a single ounce of space on my phone. Or, you know, making sure I pick the right person to text. One of said scattered texts was to a guy I’d been hanging out with, trying to convince him to come out that night. Like, say, watching where I walk so as not to trip on the loose step in my stairwell nearly every day. (First favorite is sleeping, third favorite is blogging — get your minds outta the gutter.) I was texting up a storm with my mom about my favorite topic: gossiping about my older sister, while also juggling a few scattered texts from friends about that evening’s plans.The realization dawned on me pretty instantly, and while I debated going with a “Oh, I just bought this new bra, what do you think?
Would you like to answer one of these unanswered questions instead?
And always they all never worry about money; they could buy the drinks for the whole bar and never even dent their bank accounts.