Alive? I am merely masquerading as such.
My office wall. Yoda is covering a huge HUGE hole in the wall I made bc I’m too impatient to let a 3M hook pull off.
I have good feelings re: Demi Lovato.
Every time I think I’m finished, I find something else that’s cool to put on this thing. Fireballs after mushroom.
They have no idea. College and grad school books are expensive. I think I used my future Goose as collateral for three courses my first semester at NYU.
I’m really happy that you, old high school friend, are on Baby #2 and are surprising yourself and obviously the entire world with the kid’s gender.
I get it. I’ll be happy when you and said kid are healthy and on the outside, and I know that this is a wonderful and exciting experience for your family. Your family. But for now? Shut the ever-loving fuck up about your baby pool and your belly pictures. One a week, maybe. A dozen a day? I can’t wade through them to see the good shit on social media, like pictures of people’s food and instagram artsy sunsets.
Beau Taplin, this is the saddest poem I’ve ever read.
I may have been a little obsessed with Hamtaro in my early twenties.
Inexplicably bad property photographs. It’s that simple.
If I can’t leave the office, I’ll at least laugh.