Real Life, you just come in without knocking, sit down in my comfy chair, and start demanding jalapeno poppers. And I know that you know I don't have jalapeno poppers and would have to make a trip to the store to get some.
Real life, who told you you could borrow my pants? Why are you wearing my pants? That also tells me that you've been in my bedroom, and I know for damn sure that I didn't give you permission to be in there.
Real Life, the left side in the toaster isn't popping up. I know I smelled something toasting yesterday, and I think that you put the toaster away to cover you...y'know...breaking my toaster. It's frustrating; I know that you have neither A)Money for a replacement, nor B)Toaster repair skills.
Real life...you suck as a person.
But whatever...real life gotta git done. I forgive you, Real Life. Let's go and get some froyo so I can show you. Smooches.