I don't just lose my keys in the house.

I initiate a full-blown, high-stakes search montage with dramatic flashbacks and a self-narrated internal monologue about the cruel hand of fate, before finding them exactly where I left them.

I love how some guys on their dating profiles claim they're 'passionate about travel' and 'love adventure.'

Turns out 'adventure' means driving an hour to a different state's Buffalo Wild Wings.

I'm not just running late for work, I'm

orchestrating a thrilling, against-all-odds, commute-as-action-movie sequence, complete with a pulse-pounding soundtrack and an Oscar-worthy monologue about the tribulations of public transportation.

My last breakup was a real cinematic masterpiece.

I had the dramatic monologue, the slow-motion walk away, and even waited for the rain. But then my ex yelled, 'You forgot your reusable water bottle!' and completely ruined the mood.