I’m having one of those I-can’t-get-the-lid-off-of-the-stupid-peanut-butter-jar kinds of days. Of course I could go beg my brother to get it off for me – but that would just be lame. Besides, he’d probably come pop the lid off with one hand on his first try and look over at me with a smirk and some rude demeaning comment about girls and their lack of muscles.
I might go so low as to call up my boyfriend if he weren’t off on vacation in California with his family right now, but he is, so I can’t. Calling up anybody for help opening a peanut butter jar is probably a lame excuse for a phone call in the first place though – so it’s probably better that I can’t call him.
So instead of doing something lame and sensible like asking for help I have a glaring contest with the peanut butter jar – which it ultimately wins because it can’t blink. My eyes start burning and then tearing up, and I can’t tell if it’s because I haven’t blinked in a couple of minutes or because I’m so angry at that stupid lid that I’m crying about it.
