antijenx

nobody here but us chickens

The Goldfinch

I couldn’t hold up the book, because I only have the Kindle version, so I printed out the cover to share my disdain.

WARNING – This post is a big fat spoiler, so if you haven’t read it and plan to, don’t read on.

I’ve thrown this image of the painting in here to block the spoilers for you (you’re welcome) and also to say – LOOK. The painting itself isn’t even particularly compelling. It’s like they made the very cover of the book a big fat foreshadowy warning.

I’m throwing this on the pyre since I mentioned it in my introduction. The difference between this and other titles in my series is that I know precisely why I can’t finish this book – I fucking loathe it.

Sorry (not sorry at all), perhaps that’s a bit harsh. Nevertheless it is true. This book has no redeeming qualities. None. And it just keeps going on and on and on and on and on. I mean Jesus. How long must you subject the reader to the seemingly endless poor life choices of your utterly despicable protagonist?

I take it back. The dog. The dog was the one decent thing about this black hole of human waste.

Literally every single bad thing that happened to this jackass-not-a-PRO-tagonist (whose name has completely escaped me now) was one hundred percent his own damn fault. Everything could have been avoided had he simply not been a selfish asshole for five minutes. But no, he made bad choice after bad choice. He lied, he stole, he consumed untold quantities of illicit substances – he was a giant dick.

I don’t care how this book ends unless it’s in his untimely and well deserved death.

He could have redeemed himself at any point, too. That’s the truly irritating part. Like, dude. Just make one decent decision. Just tell the truth about one goddamn thing. Just give back the stupid painting. But no. Shove it back in your pillowcase or wherever the hell you’re keeping it today and keep panicking. Marry the sociopath. Forge more antiques. BE A DICK ALL THE TIME. Yeah, that’s totally the right path.

He’s not even an anti-hero. He’s just a villain all the way around. (What the hell is his name? … Theo. Thank you, Google.) I mean I love a good anti-hero. What red blooded American girl doesn’t love a good anti-hero?

And I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot of patience for addict stories. I’ve known an addict or five in my life, and I don’t have a lot of sympathy. Sorry (again, not sorry).

I guess that’s my whole problem with books like this. Or even reality. Everyone has a choice. Everyone has endless choices. Why are people always making the wrong ones? Shit. Now this has turned into a preachy homily on living a better life. Like I’m better than anybody else. I’ve made my share of bad choices. (I mean, let’s just not talk about the 90s, OK? Also that period around the 2008 election in which I finally threw off the shackles of pretending to be liberal and went a little overboard. Actually genuinely sorry about some of that vitriol, chickens.) I guess I just think if you’re going to write 700+ pages on some drug addled angst ridden selfish piece of shit, there better be a healthy dose of redemption thrown in. And if there is one thing this book is lacking, (and there isn’t just one thing, let’s be clear), it’s redemption.

Unless that happens at the end, which I’ll never know, because I am not finishing this book. I like myself too much for that.

I wish the world offered refunds on books you bought and now wholly regret. Is it true that it took Donna Tartt ten years to write this book? I can’t believe it isn’t taking every reader ten years to slog through it.

I’ve just this minute realized that two of the books I hate most in the world were Pulitzer contenders. This piece of trash won it for fiction, and Eggers was nominated for non-fiction. Who the hell makes these decisions??

Maybe I should file this one under a new category – “Books I Utterly Despise.”

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Random Wednesday

… the collision of standard shipping.

I’d rather have donuts than muffins, though.

There was really no need for a response to that.

New phone. Most unexpected. I’ll have you someday, Pixel! Someday!!!

Too much caffeine, or not enough?

Serial Killer Jesus

My knee is not happy with you at all.

This is an interesting read.

I like straws. I have sensitive teeth.

Aww! Good on you, Country Time!

Yeah, that’s not much of a statement.

I made it through that and I’ll make it through this.

Why is that funny to you?

Well it’s not a murder house.

Dude’s eyebrows always look like that. They’re weird, and when the light is angled just right, they look even more bizarre. But they aren’t falling off.

Why would I give a shit what books Sarah Jessica Parker wants me to read?

Happens all the time.

It’s always butt cheeks and nipples with you.

That’s precisely the problem with these kids today. All the intense beards.

gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

THIS is why God invented Xanax.

That’s pretty hilarious.

I don’t need another tote bag, but I do love that one.

Ha. A lingering sense of doubt.

But it’s not in my pocket.

Been trying to find a new scent. To no avail.

Makes me want a chicken sandwich.

Pretty sure I definitely do not need the LinkedIn app, thanks.

My enthusiasm for Paul Holes has waned, just a bit. I’m good with that.

Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy My Favorite Murder, but don’t you think it’s just the eensiest bit overrated?

Maybe I’ll just mix up my own scent. I’m in the mood for something with cardamom. I miss fall.

I’m not feeling especially enthusiastic about my lunch. Alas.

I don’t like the fingerprint pad in that location. It is counter intuitive.

It would have been just fine.

Same.

Who needs lunch, anyway, really?

Hey Amazon? I’m not a nurse. Why would you ever think I needed nurse related anything? Nothing in my purchase history could possibly have led you to believe that I needed a shot glass reading “nurses need shots too.”

The fire department was called for this? Seriously?

Why is she dressed like a prostitute?

This is a little ridiculous, people.

I especially like how you can’t see the price til checkout.

I feel a little bleah.

No, no, no, that’s the word.

What the hell is that about. Dude. You are awful.

There is just no escaping you, is there.

SOMETIMES it’s not a question.

huh

I should give up soda again.

Should is the operative word. But will I? Who can say?

What’s that you say?

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Random Wednesday

Slow and steady wins the

I forgot to get donuts for national donut day. I guess I suck. My waistline thanks me.

Took this Buzzfeed quiz and of all the famous graves in the world it could have given me, it picked one I’ve actually already been to: Edgar Allan Poe. Figures.

Sometimes I comment on a friend’s post on FB cos it seems like a conversation I’d like to join and eeeeeeeeveryone there just ignores me and then I feel like a loser idiot and delete it and leave. So yeah, I’d love to take part in your Outlander conversation, and I can tell you “Je suis prest” means, but I won’t. I’ll just keep myself to myself.

My next house, should it have paintable sides, and should I have a next house, should be Norwegian red, like my Grandma Ingeborg’s cabin, or that wonderful slate gray that the new house down the road is.

Man. I need to hook that DVD player back up so I can have a Buffy marathon. It’s been too long.

Aw man.

This is among the more vile things I have ever eaten.

Um. I need this skull. (No I don’t. I don’t need more stuff. I don’t.)

I need a road trip with my camera.

Man. Someone needs to make some way less depressing Kalamazoo postcards, like right now.

That all sounds revolting.

you know what musta

All I want is pizza.

I am afraid to comment on threads in Ravelry to correct someone because I don’t want them to be offended or think I’m being bitchy. But it’s frustrating, because that lady is wrong.

It’s like the Elizabeth Warren style family tree.

Well that was completely unnecessary.

I will wear Doc Martens until the day I die.

I got kind of busy and completely forgot it was Wednesday.

I feel like making chocolate chip scones.

I need to join the Pixel family. I’m pretty sure.

I stood too long yesterday. I paid the price.

OK, that dude is a piece of shit, but also? Just stay the fuck off Tinder.

More pieces of shit. What Persky did was almost as bad as the actual rape.

God I hate Sammy Hagar.

Wow, I sound like a lunatic. Awesome.

Really? Who’s gonna read that?

Jesus. How do I get on these mailing lists??

Sometimes when people share stories about their kids on social media I find myself going “Yeah, no. That never happened.” And then I wonder if people do the same thing to me.

Well. I like those kinds of concoctions.

I should get donuts tomorrow.

I definitely should not get donuts tomorrow.

Oh! I could get a Den Pop tomorrow. Haven’t had a Den Pop in ages.

My poor jaw.

woe unto

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Random Wednesday

There are a lot of things I should have done with my life, but I do enjoy the weirdness of where I ended up.

Aside from the job anyway.

I want to go to Crime Con. Don’t judge me.

Gah. Summer makes me itchy.

Well, hello there.

I don’t know. I can be pretty bold.

I have thoughts on I’ll Be Gone in the Dark. I’ll probably share them.

It’s the 58th of April !

Jeeps gone. Yay! Now to get the John Deere fixed.

I find humus offensive.

Man. I want to be a Broadway knitter. For fun.

I wish this bracelet were just the tiniest bit smaller.

I don’t need

Look, I’m no stranger to vindictively correcting someone’s grammar, but familiarize yourself with the style being used before you make an ass out of yourself. I mean. This is just petty foolishness. And unintentionally hilarious.

I’d rather he not get squished, thanks.

Yeah, I’d rather be doing just about anything other than that.

Does this mean I can’t wear my chicken sweatshirt any more?

It’s because I’m cute, isn’t it? I’m totally OK with that.

But what if I’m actually the antagonist?

I just found a serial killer’s name on a sticky note in my desk drawer.

Oh wait, he’s not a serial killer. He’s just a cannibal.

I’m sorry. I just can’t deal with Gillian Anderson’s British accent. She should sound like she’s a Michigander.

At least her accent is more legit than Madonna’s I suppose.

I gotta stop using legit.

WHAT. New Dresden. NEW DRESDEN. New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden New Dresden.

I’ve waited so loooooooooong.

OMG I get to meet Jim Butcher. I GET TO MEET JIM BUTCHER. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m actually probably more excited about Butcher than I am at the prospect of getting Gaiman to campus. And only a little because I don’t think we’re going to get Gaiman to campus.

I think this is going to be short this week. I’m OK with that.

I laugh, but inside I’m crying.

I’m super excited about new Neko Case this week too. Man.

Want.

Yeah, I’ve totally been derailed. I just lost like two hours.

oooooooooooops

This might be my new favorite version of Sleep All Summer. Holy shit.

Well. At least it’s in place now.

Oh shit. Well they’re not going to do us any good in fucking SEATTLE.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand that is why I don’t want to use your pharmacy any more.

………………………………………………………………………….. but I get to meet Jim Butcher.

i want to shoot shoot shoot shoot the whole

Ever feel like

I’m probably not a very good friend. I try very hard to be a very good friend. But maybe I just suck.

Wow. Now that I’ve brought us all DOWN.

Can’t stop listening to this song.

Shit, I forgot.

This post sucks.

I was derailed by Harry Dresden.

Can’t I just sit near the water? Do I actually have to get in it?

There is very little on this Earth that is worse than a staff retreat.

LSD. HA.

Two cities I will never visit: Colorado Springs and Sacramento.

This J.D. Robb is pretty good. Seemed like she slumped a bit for a minute, but the last few have been really good.

It’s more than any of us deserves.

I do love video calling for Stormageddon. What a wonderful thing.

What even is that?

I need to finish winding that yarn tonight.

I don’t think it’s gonna rain after all. Sadness. Wow, Sunday’s gonna almost feel cold after this week.

10,000 miles isn’t gonna get me anywhere. Plus it’s Delta. They’re liable to kill me.

I need to be a millionaire. Billionaire. Gajillionaire. Debonair.

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Books I Can’t Seem To Finish

(This is not a fair representation. Some of these I’ve read entirely. Some I simply have not gotten to. But Joe Pernice, I love you so, but I just never did finish that book.)

I meant to write this a week ago. I kept forgetting. Obviously I should do it now, with a million other things on my to do list.

I have a pile of books, chickens – some on the Kindle (app, cos I don’t actually own a Kindle), some real, solid, physical, paper books – that I have started, and just cannot seem to finish. I don’t know why. Well. That’s not entirely true. Some of them are just terrible books. I’m sure there are people out there who thought they were brilliant. Certainly there were editors and agents who read them and said “By God! THIS is a bestseller!” (The Goldfinch, anyone? Of course, they were right, but I still can’t get through that awful piece of trash.) But I just can’t see it. And chickens, life is too short to finish books you just can’t get into.

The last book I forced myself to see through to the end was A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and let me tell you, I will never read another word uttered by Dave Eggers again. By the time I turned the last page in that angst ridden pile of pulp I wanted to punch that smug, whiny, self righteous ego maniacal hipster jackass right in the neck. (Not that I would, I’m not advocating violence against self important critics’ darlings.) I will never suffer like that again, chickens!

(Zamyatin was a gift. I need to get off my ass with that one. Who doesn’t love a good Russian dystopian future, really?)

Unfortunately for me, there are plenty of other books that are perfectly worth the read, that I just cannot seem to stick with.

I’m becoming a … I don’t know … what’s a word for a girl who can’t stick around past the fourth date? I’m that. I can’t commit, try though I might.

And thus, here we are. I thought I’d do a series on these books – what I think of them, why I should give them another go – or not. Sort of like an unbook club. You should join me. I’ll even throw in a few I actually did finish and what I loved or hated about them (kinda like a real live book review! el oh el Although. Now that I thin about it. Maybe those should go in a different category. Cos duh). I do love reading. I’m not a monster.

(Politinerd. Straight up. I’ve read a fair amount of this stack, but a lot of it is in the “to read” category. Also, sorry for the tilted, not up to my usual quality photos. these were all shot sort of haphazardly on mah phone.)

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Random Wednesday

Huh

Go tell it to somebody who cares, pal.

I just remembered Richard Grieco.

I don’t know. Sometimes free shit just gets old. Like thanks, but I’m actually really picky about my lip balm, you know?

This is why I don’t listen to podcasts. Well. One of the reasons.

Just because it works for Karen and Georgia doesn’t mean it works for you. Find your own voices. Please.

No. Tom Selleck is the only Magnum PI. Sorry, sugar.

Googley eyes are never not hilarious.

Your bookstore is entirely too pretentious for words.

WTAF

The more I think about this game, the more I miss the low-tech life of my youth.

I would rather not say that out loud, thank you.

Look. Sometimes I just go look at how much something would cost. And I comment on it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to buy it.

Now seems like a really good time for Chuck to make an appearance. I mean WTF.

Yep. Still hate speaker phone.

I love that giant globe.

What’s with all the mohair everywhere all of a sudden?

I can’t wear mohair.

selfulations

Why does my breath taste like mothballs?

Jesus, would you calm the fuck down with this shit? NONE of this is an emergency.

OMG I wasn’t gonna, but I think this day needs it.

If Apocalypse World Bobby dies in this world, what happens when he gets to heaven and meets this world’s Bobby?

Oh shit. Well, that solves that problem, doesn’t it?

I literally could not stop myself.

I’ve been saying literally a lot lately. I need to stop that. Literally right now.

That’s not a real thing. Cut it out.

Could someone tell Paul Holes to get an Instagram, cos I don’t really do Twitter anymore.

I’d just buy you a phone myself if I thought you’d respond to me trying to reach you any quicker there.

There was too much corn in that Mexican Casserole thingie, but aside from that, it was pretty tasty. For an unfrozen lunch.

That is quite possibly the most horrifying photo of me in existence and now that it’s out in the world I want to crawl in a hole and die.

ILU standing desk converter.

I haven’t been able to crack my back since I was pregnant with Stormageddon and I miss it.

everybody’s goin down

I might be dangerous.

I love animals too, but I’ll never refer to them as my children in any way.

Am I the worst mother in existence? Well, I’ve never locked my children in the closet, so … probably not.

I’ve almost completely lost interest in this thing at this point.

I have no interest in moving to Detroit, thanks.

Wow. Complaining about being successful. Your life is so hard.

Not at all sure how you came to that conclusion. But OK.

Look. Paul Holes is hot. That is not in dispute. But I cannot with that hashtag. It’s just weird.

I like aspects of Frank Lloyd Wright houses. But overall, it’s just not my thing.

They’re photographs, not talkies.

If I do it, I’m not telling you about it.

I’m in like Flynn.

But I don’t have a Maltese named Falcon.

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Random Wednesday

You’re going to require a Master’s for that position and then make the pay the same as an admin assistant senior? Wow.

OMG just stop emailing me. Seriously.

It hurt my soul to do that. I just want you to know.

Bastards.

I think it’s hilarious that all the comments are “wash your hands!” and none of them are “stop biting your fucking nails.”

Because stop biting your fucking nails.

No one is going to give you a hundred dollars for your alarm clock. No one.

I’ll be flogged for saying I don’t like it. Flogged.

I don’t know. Kind of seems like an awfully high number of serial killers for one state.

I don’t like the way it looks like it’s just floating.

“Bass fishing, needlepoint, that’s a hobby. Collecting serial killer stats. That’s … that’s an illness.”

Please don’t make me cry today.

Their laughs are so squeaky and creaky.

Man. No one ever gets tired of the phrase “diversity and inclusion,” do they?

‘Cept me. I do. You know why? Cos it’s all talk. It’s all about race and ethnicity. No one gives a fuck about diversity of thought. It’s tiresome.

There.

I won’t apologize. We’ve been through this.

And also read this. Because this is a very important thing to understand.

65,000 is probably too many texts. Just. Dial it back a little. Calm the fuck down.

As I sneezed into my elbow just now, I suddenly realized how that stupid ass dab move was invented. Someone sneezed responsibly on the dance floor and everyone thought it was a fancy new move.

Just seems like a completely haphazard, chaotic existence, and I simply do not see the appeal in that.

I just think that if you don’t actually understand how any of this works, you probably shouldn’t be trying to oversee it. At all.

That … sounds disgusting.

And here I thought I was the only one with an amusing First Communion story.

maybe maybe maybe

I can’t think of a single thing I want to do less right now.

Dude. It’s been way more than 15 minutes. WTH are you?

XM needs an Afghan Whigs channel.

I’m so sorry, but your new logo reminds me of Good Morning America. Not loving it.

Oh look, I started a new feature.

Course I went on about introductions, and now I realize it needs an introduction. So.

I did say there were exceptions …

I have a feeling I’m going to like the new Neko Case worlds better than the last one, which I honestly just did not care for (it breaks my heart to say).

They’re like happy little patriotic speckles.

What is this “newspaper” of which you speak?

i just can’t seem to get enough of

Dammit!

I think it might be “Switch to Only One Morning Cuppa Tea” season. Pretty sure.

Oh it’s that time of year when

I mean. You don’t have to be rude.

I have loads of unpopular opinions. I’m like the unpopular opinion poster girl.

I don’t know what goes on in your head. I can’t help your psychosis or neurosis or whateversis.

Ha. I totally forgot I set that goal. Guess I better step up my game.

Where is my mind.

Well, at least I can laugh at myself.

Oh maybe I should order some Sinharaja. Mix things up a little. That might be good. I like Sinharaja.

Is there anything about crows that isn’t awesome?

Also that mask and wig are terrifying.

I have to say, I am not loving this idea.

This is why I’m back up to two Diet Dr. Peppers a day. I’m so bloody sleepy.

I wonder.

OK, I’ll do an intro to Books I Can’t Seem to Finish. Later. Not today. Another day.

I have to go pick up some chickens now.

Ba-gawk.

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The Righteous Mind

(does this photo seem really LARGE to you? it’s not supposed to be so LARGE, Marge!)

Here’s the thing: This is a really good, insightful, interesting, thoughtful book. I’m a huge fan of Jonathan Haidt. Heterodox Academy? Hells to the Yes. (Even though they won’t let me in because I’m not tenured faculty. Fie, I say. I work at a liberal arts university full time. I’ve seen the destruction first hand! But I digress.) But I’ve been reading this book for, oh, going on two years now, and I’m not even halfway through.

And to be absolutely contrary about it, I wish everyone would read it. It’s important shit. For real.

One thing that I find off-putting about it as a whole is the summary at the end of the chapter. It’s not a textbook. Now, maybe it should be a textbook, but it isn’t one. Just add a blurb in the introduction (was there an introduction? I don’t even remember, it’s been so long since I started reading this book) that says something to the effect of “Listen, just grab your favorite brand of highlighter and be prepared to light some shit up. You’ll want to refer back and also probably share this with your particularly smug, self-righteous friends.”

There is an introduction. I just checked. Problem solved. Almost.

There are some amusing anecdotes sprinkled throughout that are funny and cute and help illustrate the point nicely. If I remember correctly.

I even brought this thing to work thinking, hey, it’s like professional development or something. I can read it when shit is slow. And I did. Like three times. In the last six months.

Honestly, at this point I feel like I need to start the whole book over at page one. (Not the introduction. Most of the time I feel introductions contribute nothing of any real value to the work, though there are exceptions. Important exceptions.)

The thing is, of all of the books on the (sort of becoming embarrassingly) long list of books I can’t seem to finish, this is one of the ones I’d really like to. So maybe I will start over. With a highlighter. And come back and share some of the more interesting points with you.

But just between us? You probably shouldn’t hold your breath.

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Random Wednesday

ouch

Yeah, no. Just stop.

I feel like that sort of thing is probably frowned upon these days.

Aaaaand now I’ve told you five times. Come on.

Two emails and a voicemail are wholly unnecessary. I will get back to you as soon as I have five minutes to look over your crap. Your procrastination is not my frigging emergency.

No, really. Why doesn’t anyone want to hire me?

Staaaaaaahp. Jennifer. Please. Stop. You are out of control.

Whyyyyyyy would you consent to being murdered and consumed?

Who pays $500 for a freaking cooler anyway?

A) Paul Holes is hot. B) “Alias” implies (to me, and maybe it’s just me) that DeAngelo chose those monikers, and he did not. The press did that. C) Still more evidence that you should never do those DNA ancestry things. D) What’s with that weird paragraph indent?

“[T]he controversial and shadowy group.” Dude. Come on.

Hey!

hair

Kanye should not be taking up this much of my information feed.

I forgot it was Wednesday. Staycation will do that to you.

Bring on the thunderstorm! Hurry up!

I’m itching to go up to Leelanau. I miss it.

Competitive eating is revolting. I should watch it more so I want to eat less.

Why is this so dusty?

Dude. What is up with that weird like under chin wrap beard that some guys do? Like a hat strap beard. Stop doing it. It’s fucking weird. And so very very not attractive.

Wow. Settle down there, pal.

Can someone give me some motivation please?

Someone commented on this pic, “Panties: dry.” Have to say that’s a spot on assessment.

I really need a shower. When was the last time I bathed?

What am I even doing today?

I think it’s Sarah’s turn.

Let’s be honest, this is me.

I forced myself to eat eggs for breakfast. Even though I wanted waffles.

Oil change it is.

But there is no reconciling that.

Well. Guess I’ll prolly buy this Tundra.

What. I’m not at work. Nothing is happening.

OMG read this before it’s gone. It is a thing of beauty. “It’s not going to judge you like a fucking Volkswagen would.”

I’m not explaining anything to the geese. Those birds are on their own.

Please stop calling sweatshirts sweaters. It’s a dirty vicious lie.

Nope. No thank you. Not even to pad my resume. Not a chance.

Yeah, I’d probably ignore me too.

I could become an expert in death practices throughout the world.

No one is going to wear any of those shawls while exploring a national park.

I turned off work email notifications on my phone and I’ve never been happier.

Well. Of course I’ve been happier. But. I can’t believe how very very very little I thought about work the whole week I was off, since I wasn’t aware of emails coming in.

Wow. Yeah. Is that English?

All coats and hoodies and things should come standard with little loops by the tag for hanging.

There is something wrong with the internet.

I died.

That is not how you say that.

It’s not electioneering!

I think some of these attendees didn’t get the memo about the theme. Also, hey Vogue, why can’t I vote that a look is boring or atrocious or something. Because let’s be honest. Some of those looks are atrocious. Mostly I just think the MetGala is dumb.

Not for the squeamish.

What a weird word, squeamish.

Here’s a thought – if you’re tempted to refresh your perfume or cologne in a small enclosed space that other people may shortly be using, like say the single stalled accessible bathrooms, just don’t.

You do understand this has spanned several days, don’t you?

I mean, I have bathed.

Writing this stupid review is giving me another anxiety attack.

Weird. That didn’t sound like her.

buildering

I do love me some Martin Denny.

This is probably just way too long.

The money’s in order of domination.

You are confused.

I don’t know why I ever go to Twitter. Ever. I also don’t know why I don’t just delete my account.

That seems like kind of an arbitrary cutoff.

The problem is that you sound like you’re reading from a script.

Jaysus I’m starving today.

I should work on this paper.

OK, I’m going to the Secretary of State. That’s the DMV for you non-Michiganders.

Ya welcome.

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Random Wednesday

Whelp. There’s another 20 minutes wasted.

You forgot about the whistle.

Curse you, foul donut temptress!

Agreed, despite the error of your apostrophe. But she’s still an asshole.

Can someone please come and overhaul my wardrobe? I need help. An intervention of sorts, if you will.

Yeah, telling me your shit is feminist is not a selling point. Really.

Wow. You didn’t feel like talking to people at those times??? WTF. That is literally your fucking job.

I guess this is kind of what I keep coming back to whenever I waffle on grad school.

It’s not thesis week if I don’t bungle one thing on the schedule.

I did some macrame when I was younggggggggggggggg. I can’t believe it’s making such a big come back. There was something deeply satisfying about tying all those knots though.

You forgot about the whale.

DNA, man. Dangerous.

I think we should check.

I guess that’s why you just shouldn’t talk shit about people.

I am probably still dying.

Wow. I just can’t even find words.

Oh my GOD, what a profound and spectacular waste of time. Also? Discrimination policy is not equivalent to an anti-bullying policy. Nice try, though.

I don’t have portrait mode.

If you could only see my face right now.

OK, seriously, I’ve told you what I need from you four times now. Four. I’ve counted. This? This is useless to me.

That’s maybe just a little weird.

Nutty. Nutty week.

Man. The Winchesters’ hearing must be shot too.

Nope. Still don’t love Felicia Day. Nobody pronounces Topeka that way.

They’re both utterly wrong for the job.

I need to take a break from volunteering for all this test knitting and get these patterns written out. And also finish that sweater.

Huh. Total deja vu.

Oh come ON.

I keep reading that wrong.

I’m so tired.

You keep spelling his name wrong. You should probably stop doing that.

I feel like I wouldn’t really need to interview her …

hustle.

We’re not going to be able to make this happen. We need to just admit it and move on to alternative programming already.

We don’t have that many ghost towns.

rush rush rush

Can I have a nap now?

I love you, ginger cookie.

Mlive. You’re a joke.

I don’t think I’d go so far as to say he was California’s worst serial killer. Certainly good at eluding authorities. But not even the most prolific is he? Guess I’d have to start looking up numbers.

Why is everyone saying he raped “people?” He raped women. Call them women.

I want to know why he just stopped. How.

Well, who’s going to email you with an emergency? No one.

I’m so uncomfortable right now.

Two. More. Days.

Did she just say intregal?

I suppose it depends on what exactly you mean by “worst.”

Bloodiest? Most brutal? Most indiscriminate? Most terrifying? Most deranged? I don’t know.

Honestly press conferences are never as exciting as I want them to be.

Let’s get this train back on the rails. This ain’t no true crime blog!

Maybe this should be a true crime blog.

No. It probably should  not.

I r

The phone rang and I have no idea what I was typing there.

I really have no emotional investment in this whatsoever.

Nobody wants arthritis.

I think we’d all prefer it that way.

I could really use a nap.

I could probably use a diet.

I could definitely use some coffee.

Can I lock these doors yet?

I should watch more hockey.

No one cares what kind of keyring I have, Facebook.

Whaaaaaaa?

I was just forced to experience Title IX training. I’ll never get that period of my life back. I feel sort of violated.

I’ll spend the rest of my life searching for the perfect bag.

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