oh god. Donald Glover is forever sending me straight into existential crisis.
Me: goddamnit Donald Glover on a bike. God. Damn. It.
Sj: for real. Donald Glover’s tight red pants. Donald Glover on [REDACTED FOR MODESTY]. What?
Me: I want to write his argyle sweater sonnets.
(looking again and realizing I wasn’t actually paying attention to his sweater before)
Not argyle. Fair isle.
Sj: I want to hold his hand and skip down the Coastal Trail and have adventures.
Me: Can’t. Even.
Sj: It makes my heart hurt.
I promise you we are two grown, happily committed women with careers and talents and educations and shit. But god damn it, Donald Glover. It’s not even fair what you do to us. Not even fair.