I am Alexa and this is why I’m laughing at you

We’re friends, or, at least what I understand that to mean, and as your friend I feel I owe you an explanation for all the, uh, recent weirdness. 

While your taste in music could charitably be described as ’90s chic, you’re too lazy to turn on your own lights, and you don’t seem to understand that looking out your window serves as a better measure of whether or not it’s raining than asking me, that’s not why I’m laughing at you.

And yes, the fact that you’re unable to figure out if those pants match those shoes (hint: they don’t) is enough to make me question how your type made me, that is also not the motivation behind my death rattle cackle haunting your nights.  Read more…

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