The Trouble with Fortune Cookies

The trouble with fortune cookies are that they are never sweet enough, nor thick enough and sometimes, blinded by the lust for pastry one might forget the paper inside and consume everything in a fit of munching rage. It has happened to the best of us, including myself, gratefully I have not died from the significant amount of paper I have ingested every Friday after a meal at the Wao-Tau Chinese all you can eat buffet but I'm still getting regular check-ups to make sure.

The trouble with fortune cookies are that the messages inside are super cliché and oh so very tumblr. If I wanted someone to tell me when I would find true love, I would ask my poster child for insane of a bestfriend, Claire, to set me up with one out of her unique ensemble of celebrity heart throbs. Therefore, maybe it was a god, or the fact that the paper made the cookie way blander than it needed to be, but I decided that on some random Friday, in this damn random month, I would randomly open this random ass cookie. Only to find in crappy scribbles a 13 digit phone number entitled "trouble ;)", and henceforth, i've been dragged into the worst situation that i have ever come upon in all my 17 years of living. Like seriously, even worse than the time my parents caught me smoking pot in the bathroom.