Sorry! Alt text: Bernard Homi sent me a friend request five days ago.

PS: his name is Bernard Homicile, and he’s a nepo baby who graduated from BC twenty years after me, and he’s won’t leave me the fuck alone.

Consider my last post. This is why I’m agoraphobic.

Luckily he retained a little bit. I walked into his room the other day and said “Hora de vestí!” and stared at him and he was like, time to get dressed? Ok. All is not lost.

Thankfully, I own the soundtrack and a disc man and I can connect them to my radio components because I was friends with future engineers. It’s 1980 and I’m the smartest person you know. 😆

Honestly? I can’t even do peanut butter most times. I pull the toast out, throw on a single slice of cheese, then let it broil for a second. Extra protein. Sometimes I’m able to throw a layer of mayonnaise or butter on the bread. Mostly not. But it’s calories.

Second the toast reply. It’s pretty much all I can do to spread some peanut butter on it for protein and choke it down. Currently. Best of luck.

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I can, and do. But he vocally expresses that he doesn’t want to know it. It’s Cape Verdean kriolo, so he’ll never pick it up, ever, based on where we live. It’s a problem.

At my freshman orientation at Boston College, I vividly remember a student standing up in a crowded auditorium and explaining this. They were Hispanic but spoke no Spanish (when I was fluent). Incredibly mind-expanding to a young white girl. Now my 15yo kid can’t speak his father’s first language. 😢