I should stay holed up in my house knitting dishcloths like people collect cats.
Wait. Standing your family in front of your garage door for a photo is a thing? That is a weird thing.
Yeah, this is pretty hilarious.
It’s like whoever made this “blog” is my long lost twin or something.
“On the one hand, we have Wal-Mart, which makes a modest profit margin by helping to feed and clothe people who typically do not have a lot of spare money. On the other hand, we have a grotesque exercise in snobbery â€” snobbery frequently compounded by stupidity. The view from Fifth Avenue is rather different from the view from Columbia County.” God YES. It’s the snobbery. The holier than though, self righteous, snobbish social justice warriors who think that their hypocritical ideal of where I should shop is more important than my actual budget.
“Vegan strip club riot.” Ha.
“I called earlier and talked to some girl and she said I was s’posed to talk to some lady.” The future of our country, ladies and gentlemen.
If you’re going to take it without asking, put it back without bothering me.
“Commit an illegal act in an illegal manner.” There’s a legal way to commit an illegal act??
I should just go back to not speaking in these meetings.
This is not my best day ever.
When you say we all should have received an email inviting us to that banquet, you meant “you all except for Jen.” Obviously.
Not a weapon! Not a weapon! Not a weapon!
Apparently my normal minimum tolerance for stupid is on empty today.
Trying to make the student schedule is migraine inducing all on its own.
That was a horrible meeting. Horrible. I don’t even know what you say in a meeting like that. I’m completely powerless.
This whole day has entirely disappeared. I still have so much to do.
I haven’t said. I haven’t said.
Can someone get Tom Petty out of my head?
just for one day
My dress smells weird. What the hell.
But my sweater smells like spring.
My hair hates me.
Damn. I do not have that kind of money.
What. Is. The. Matter. With. You.
Just stop screaming at me. No, really. Stop.
ArrAGHgrhg Tom Petty is back. Send help. Wait, weren’t there a couple of people who said they’d send me mix tapes?
That thing I said about letting my gray grow out? Yeah, I think I’ve changed my mind.
I wonder what that guy is going to do with all those brains.
What am I going to watch while I knit when I run out of Criminal Minds episodes?
That’s what I love most about that mug. Those zig zags of tea stained cracks. That’s home.
Sometimes I read these deep, insightful MOM posts on Instagram and I think, “Who the hell are these women???”
I have no idea how I’m supposed to remember this for 2 years, but OK. I’ll try.
I started to send the email, but honestly. I just didn’t have the energy to be chipper about telling that woman she misspelled stationery on an official University document about marketing and branding.
Now my sweater smells like smashed up slimy teething biscuit paste.
My tea leaves aren’t saying much of anything right now.
No, Axl Rose is not dead.
Why do sleeves always seem to take FOR-EV-ER to knit?
I need more migraine drugs. I think I have to go now.
Is Christmas over yet?