I moved to the country. I knew about coyotes. Bobcats. Rattlesnakes, black widows, and so on.
It has become my opinion that not enough is made of the dangers posed by suicidal baby squirrels.
Everything’s gonna be alright, everyone. Julia from TEMU just offered me a job. Via text. Thanks to several online agencies who recommended me from my resume and experience.
Acting + goats = TEMU !!!
This is my Prius. It’s old from at least ten years ago. Driving it is sad except when you see gas prices. Carry duct tape in your glove compartment. I figured out how to make it talk to my phone so here is some English Boy on the Love Ranch.
A bad thing about car reviews is they're written by people who love cars and know a lot about them.
I need car reviews by people who hate cars and know nothing about them.
Dear Bluesky, I need a word for a feeling. Its the specific relief that comes when something is either horrid or benign, turns out benign, but you still experienced a bit of the horror. Like when the lump in the road turns out to be a sweatshirt.
No. Not “relief”. I want a NEW word. Please.
My Dad: “That girl set the house on fire again. I gotta hand it to that spotty fella, though. He got his leg strapped on, got down here, put the fire out before there was hardly any damage. I’d make him dinner to say thank you but it’d have to be soup because he doesn’t have any teeth.”
Today I was recognized and
my kid asked someone walking in to the group, “Do you want an autograph?”
He replied, “No, thanks, I had coffee this morning.”
He confessed he thought she’d said affogato. But that’s going to be my go-to excuse for everything now.
I chopped most of my hair off and bleached the rest of it white. You are correct. I did not include a picture. Because I love it so much I don’t need your approval.
Just wanted you to know.
(I’m sure you’ll see it at some point, though. I’m not a monster.)
It shouldn’t still hurt. I mean, it never should have hurt. I didn’t even know him.
But he held my heart so gently. Thank you, Sir Terry Pratchett. I miss you.
I am not an influencer here. I don’t think my endorsement is needed here. But I have to connect and you might get it here.
I just listened to “Signs of Life”, the album by Neil Gaiman and FourPlay String Quartet. It’s going to be a bit before I can function again. In the best way.
Anyone else having another go at #Monk on Netflix except this time you know you’re autistic and you can’t stop laughing to have the choke-sob you need? No? Cool. Just me, then.
