On Monday, Jeff says that Our illustrious brand voice needs a “refresh.”

“What do you mean?” Molly asks, taking off her headphones (Beats by Dre, as is decreed). “What’s wrong with our voice?”

“It’s old. Stale. I feel like when people think of us—when they think ‘Illuminati’—they imagine old men in smoke-drenched suits who undermine humanity’s progress for their own gain. They don’t picture trendy, relatable go-getters who… just so happen to undermine humanity’s progress for their own gain.”

‘You’re worried you’re losing your magic as a couple?’ Olivia asked.

‘Kind of. I look at our parents, and I don’t want that for us. I want something more,’ Jasmine said. She wished Olivia was older, grey haired and with large round spectacles that’s the kind of marriage counselor she wanted. Not early twenties, sleek jawed and toned shouldered.

‘What’s wrong with our parents? You’re so condescending about normal lives. As if we’re not normal. As if we’re above that. Superhuman, or something,’ Matt said, rolling his eyes.

Last week I discovered it’s hard to say
I love human skin without a lot of weird looks
and party guests pulling sweaters
over shoulders even in too hot rooms.
It’s hard to be cool at parties.

One pithy Oscar-Wilde-reading
swimmer on the online dating site
I like to dive into from time to time
with my underwater harpoon gun
said instead of endless writing
back and forth, it would be far more
efficient to let the chemistry decide
right away, face-to-face.

1) I don’t like biting into watermelons. It reminds me of sex. But in a bad way.