The not-to-do list

There are so many things I shouldn't be doing. Ever. Sometimes ever again.

Adam Sandler's movies. MISTAKE. Every. Single. Time. Why would you even... Oh my god.

Baking. You have a gas oven. It has two functions: burn'em, and BURN'EM LIKE MOUNT DOOM.

Blind dating. Weird, weird things can happen.

Cats. (Too late, sis.) He is here to haunt&irritate you until the end of your days. And when you finally slip in the shower and hit your head and die, he will eat your face and possibly some other body parts, and your landlady will find your devoured corpse weeks later and it will take months until they identify you. And the cat still has no guilt feelings. He also thinks you were 'tasteless'.

Huge earrings when it's windy. Your ears just want to fly away and become dragons.

Lip syncing Celine Dion. Horrible.

Despair. Useless. We're all born to die anyway. The only person ever who managed to make desperation cool, was Oscar Wilde. You are not him.

Elaborating. Mostly, nobody really means it when they say "please, do elaborate."

Fall in love: See the explanation for "Adam Sandler's movies".

Jägermeister. See the explanation for "Blind dating".

Monte D'Ouro. The worst, most disgusting wine this planet has to offer. It's like pickled water that has been mixed with sugar and cow saliva. Shivers.

Plants. Would you like to be tortured for months, with minimum amount of water and oxygen, and be bitten by the cat, sitting in that moldy, ugly pot - until your "caretaker" finally goes off for the weekend and forgets you and lets you die a very painful death? Yeah. Think about that. You wouldn't like that.

Promise to do something on a Sunday. When you finally crawl out bed in the afternoon and manage to make yourself presentable, it will already be Tuesday.

Dance like you just don't care. Do not "shake that ass." Do not "raise the roof." Do not "jump around."

Shots. Falsely, this seems like a magnificent idea while you're doing it. However, do not proceed. First it will most likely make you "dance like you don't care" and the next morning you are all about "despair."

Snooze. It's a lie, I tell you, A CRUEL LIE!

Update your iTunes. It's like an over-attached boyfriend that will insist you go take a yoga class or something ridiculous like that. So after half a million times they "subtly suggest", you get sick of it and go ahead and do it. Then you come home, and you're in pain, and you don't know where your body parts are right now. And OH MY GOD it hurts, I don't even know what's happening, why did I ever do such a stupid thing kill me now.

Strapless bras. They're like a corset, but a way more cruel version. First, they will make you suffocate. Second, they just want to be a belt. Let them be a belt. Set them free.

Shrimps. I mean look at them. Just look at them. They resemble a malformed alien fetus at their very best. The consistency is much the same. The fact that they don't really taste like anything doesn't help.

Add colleagues to Facebook. Suddenly, they start giving you weird glances in the hallway.

High heels in Lisbon. Embarrassing.

Math. Not even once.

Smart books. You know, the deep, overrated classics that every respectable, pretentious douchebag has read. Like, there is a sentence in James Joyce's Ulysses that goes like this: "The squeak is out. A split is gone for the flatties. Nip the first rattler." WUT.

Parties without booze/people who drink "in moderation." Absolute worst. You'll be stuck there, talking about nail polish and diapers and what not, hoping you could just become a tiny, tiny version of yourself and slowly drown in your wine glass.