- “Any plans for the weekend?”
My real plans: Binge drinking on Saturday night until I’m 98% sure I can fly (or at least dance really, really well) and begin recklessly drunk texting my family and friends about this new discovery, then waking up on Sunday morning and trying to strike a deal with the Lord (or the Devil, whoever will bite) that I will never, ever drink again if he cures me of this debilitating hangover.
What I actually say: “Not much. You?”
- “Ughh Monday morning, hey? How brutal!”
What I think: Mondays happen every fucking week. Get over it.
What I actually say: “Yep. Coffee time!”
- “Wow, I really love your outfit!”
Their response: “Thanks! I got the shoes on sale at this tiny little place downtown, they were the only pair left and they happened to be in my size! So I was like omg, right? How can I NOT get them? And then the shirt is from Winners, have you been there lately? You should really go. Except you need patience, so like, go on a day where you really feel like shopping..”
Why I actually say it: I really don’t have anything in common with you, so this is the only thing I can think of to say.