On contradictions in my personality.

<I look over a kid’s shoulder at the song he’s analyzing.>
“Duuuuuuude.”
“What? That’s a metaphor.”
“Yeah, it is. But I specifically told you not to bring trap music.”
“Look, Miss, you can’t just come over here while I’m doing my work with your giant skirt thing all pink and fluffy like some girl from my grandma’s day and expect me to know that you know what trap music is.”
“But I do.
“Look, just- pretend you’re my grandma and you think I actually like broccoli.”
“Nope, can’t do it.”
“Then change clothes.”
“Nope.”
“You’re so difficult.”
“Yep.”

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