Winona Dimeo-Ediger

You, dear senators, have been busy trying to bring about the apocalypse, which doesn’t leave a lot of time for self-care.

F*ck that noise. Wear a bikini if you want. Or wear a one-piece if you want. Or wear a baggy t-shirt from a Def Leppard concert and knee-length bike shorts if you want. Wear whatever you want. But definitely go to the beach.

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Don’t want your relationship to stagnate? Then make spontaneity a priority. The scope of your spontaneous activities doesn’t matter as much as the frequency.

All the skimpy clothes that come along with this time of year give me anxiety.

Will you ever find a chair you like? Are there any good chairs left in this world? Why are so many people in your neighborhood attempting to sell “lightly used” sex chairs? What is a sex chair?

Hopefully you say “I love you” to your partner as often as possible. But how often do you tell them you like them? Because as much as we might take loving each other for granted, liking each other isn’t always guaranteed, and it’s rarely vocalized.

There’s that moment when you’re waiting in line for a buffet when you get a whiff of something funky, and one of your friends is like, “Is that vomit?” and another one is like, “Is it coming from that plant?” and you all shudder, plug your noses, and forget about it 20 minutes later because dude, all you can eat crab!

Old friends make it possible to conduct entire conversations in inside jokes, like a secret code you’ve taken 15 years to hone.

Basically, if you took a map of the world and put red pushpins wherever something terrible was happening, you’d find a millennial directly in the center, snapchatting.