Welcome back to the podcast where logic comes to die and chaos pays rent.

This week, Ashten admits that crime scene photos have ruined her life because now she feels morally obligated to keep her house spotless in case she’s murdered and doesn’t want to be humiliated post-mortem by dusty blinds and a rogue Chick-Fil-A cup.

Then we deep-dive into the existential true-crime crisis of:
When someone gets found “not guilty”… does law enforcement just go, “Welp, mystery solved, lunch?”
Like HELLO?? Casey Anthony? OJ?
Are the real killers just out there living their best lives?? Is there a follow-up department or nah???

Next up, we pivot aggressively — like whiplash aggressively — into aging gracefully, because apparently Demi Moore has a blood pact with the universe and has decided not to age past 37. Teach us your witchcraft, queen.

We also scream about how everyone needs to be watching Landman, how acts of service may actually be a love language AND a cry for help, and how grief and happiness can exist like chaotic roommates who share a Netflix account.

And naturally, woven through all of this is:
✨ Our unfiltered chaos
✨ Random emotional whiplash
✨ Insults said with love
✨ And the kind of best-friend derailments that make you question our mental stability

Basically… it’s us. But worse. In the best way.