Confessions now that the world is ending

The history of the world as we know it appears to be wrapping up pretty quick here. President Trump is a few months away from converting the White House into the Playboy mansion, Cubs fans are still drunkenly tweeting self-congratulatory messages regarding what will likely be the last ever World Series and a tangible moroseness plagues our quiet campus — which is still preferable to the silent shouting happening all over social media. At this point, it’s tough not to picture some old testament-level mayhem taking aim at our little blue marble. With the apocalypse nigh, I have a few things it’s probably time to get off my chest —

Pacific Rim was a great movie. Not even a great “bad” movie — a legitimately entertaining and engrossing film with compelling characters and a good message. Gypsy Danger kicks ass.

I still read “gif” with a ‘J’-sound every single time I see the word in print, and I have to make a concerted effort to pronounce it with the hard ‘G’ around people I know will want to correct me with that snarky “it’s not a peanut butter brand!” remark. I still believe in my heart of hearts I’m right.

Jif peanut butter is the only peanut butter worth a damn.

Harry Potter is about the twentieth-most interesting character in his own freaking series, and certainly the most unlikable out of a whole host of protagonists. Harry spends the majority of his time after book four acting nothing short of insufferable, engaging in several low-stakes bro-breakups with equally unlikable Ron Weasley and nursing an inexplicable crush on the personality-less Cho Chang. What even happens in book five? Nothing. Nothing happens. Sirius Black and Remus Lupin deserved their own trilogy.

There is no discernible difference between Coke and Pepsi, except that one is impossible to get on campus at Utah State. This is the bullet point I’m most worried will negatively affect my friendships.

At some point every other adult I know learned how to correctly estimate distances in foot-long increments, and it’s been going on long enough I’m worried I may have just missed that stage of development. Correctly eyeballing measurements is, to me, a super power.

There is no wrong way to eat a Kit-kat bar.

I can’t remember when people decided to start rolling up the pant legs to their jeans, but I’m still puzzled by this more than any other trend in fashion. Are your ankles hot? Are you concerned nobody’s noticed your mad sock/shoe game? I want to understand.

I act like recycling, holding doors for classmates and putting the cart back where it belongs in the Walmart parking lot is a big deal, when in reality those are probably just things we should all be doing anyway.

Cafe Rio is inferior to Costa Vida in every way, and costs an average of about four dollars more per trip. Peer pressure and brand snobbery are literally the only reasons Cafe Rio still even exists.

I miss Hastings a lot, but I really didn’t spend much money there so I guess it’s a little bit my fault it closed.

Lastly, and perhaps most egregiously, I’ve been listening to Christmas music since August. I’m not sorry.