When you're zoning out and picking at your hair and you find a small ball of who-knows-what lying upon your scalp. You then proceed to take this grain-sized ball that you found
in the depths of your most-likey
greasy hair and squish it in between your two thumbnails-- until it flattens like a pancake. This is what true
satisfaction feels like.
You, picking your head, just zoning out: Was that text I sent Joey too much or--- holy shit
what is that? Oh my god, it's a cornolio. Let me just squeeze it between my thumbnails-- YES!
I don't care about Joey, I now know true
satisfaction. I've been a bad bitch my whole life.