I'm not exactly a master chef. My idea of a gourmet meal is microwave popcorn and a glass of wine.

I'm not great at adulting. I still call my mom to ask how long to microwave a potato.

I'm the type of person who always spills something on themselves while wearing white clothes.

I'm not exactly a DIY expert. The last time I tried to assemble furniture, I ended up with extra pieces and a broken table.

I'm so bad at singing, my showerhead once asked me to stop.

I'm not the best at technology. I once asked Siri to call my mom and instead ended up ordering a pizza.

I'm not saying I'm a bad driver, but whenever I merge onto the highway, Siri says 'brace for impact'.

I'm not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. In fact, I'm more like a flickering candle.

I'm so out of shape, even my Fitbit sends me passive-aggressive notifications.

I'm not a morning person. In fact, I have to hit the snooze button at least 5 times before I can even think about getting out of bed.

I'm not exactly a fashion icon. My wardrobe consists of mostly mismatched socks and free t-shirts from events I never attended.

I'm not the most tech-savvy person. I still have a flip phone and can't figure out how to set the clock on my microwave.

I'm the type of person who never remembers to charge their phone and then complains about the battery dying.

I have the organizational skills of a toddler. Chaos is my middle name.

I'm the type of person who thinks they're telling a great joke, but ends up being the only one laughing.

I once got lost in a department store for 30 minutes trying to find the exit. Security had to escort me out.

I have a great poker face - unfortunately, it's because I have no idea what's going on.

I have the singing voice of a dying cat. Karaoke nights are not my friend.

I'm like a human sponge - I absorb useless information and forget important things.

I have a personal record of losing my keys at least once a week. It's become a habit.

I have the dance moves of a baby giraffe on roller skates. It's not pretty.