WTF is a feminist killjoy? Because when I see that phrase I think yes, that is what liberal feminists are. Killers of joy.
We’ll call her Ol’ Hobo Foot. Old-bo Baggins.
I don’t see how writing a word on a rock makes it a somehow magical word.
I don’t get all that self help, self actualizing, self care, self self self business. Seems kind of selfish.
My dream is that one day Real Justin Timberlake will catch wind of #LittleJustinTimberlake, and he will love him so much, he’ll want to come get his picture taken with him. And us. Because come on. We’re awesome.
I was in a Whole Foods once. Not a single thing on this list surprises me.
The 10th and the 11th. Eh. I’d rather it be the 9th, 10th, and 12th. 9th, 10th, OR 12th.
construction crab, subtle jesus
Your music is louder than my music and it’s interfering with my listening pleasure.
I didn’t lose any Instagram followers. Must be all mine are real people. So that’s something, I guess.
No. Thank. You.
I want to cook everything in a waffle iron now.
I think her kids are afraid of me.
How odd. This morning I was looking at something about my fairy godmother, Helena Bonham Carter, and I was wondering if she and my biological father Tim Burton were still together. Five minutes ago I got an email from People magazine telling me they’d split up.
I don’t understand Christmas newsletters.
I am reasonably certain that the Interview will suck anyway.
What’s that, you say? You missed my special guest appearance in Day by Day, you say?? WELL GO LOOK BECAUSE IT IS AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m sending huge squeezy hugs to Chris Muir right now. I give really good squeezy hugs too.
This might be the first time ever that I’ve had all the presents wrapped before 1am Christmas morning.
I don’t care what anyone says. I love Love Actually.
Don’t you do the eyebrows at me, lady.
Wow. Yeah. That’s totally the conclusion I would have immediately leapt to. In Bizarro World.
I don’t know who picked those foods, but I would never have picked Finnish pancakes.
Wow. Hours have passed. Like a giant Christmassy blur. I’m so tired.
This is either indigestion or hunger. I honestly can’t tell right now.
it’s not as though i
I think it’s safe to say that I am not getting any sleep tonight.
Guess what? Merry Christmas to you, because Random is going to keep on keepin’ on til Friday. Although, I don’t know how much longer than normal that will make the post, really.
Oh guess what else? I’m on Day by Day again today!
Christmas eggs. And mimosas. Yes, please.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I forgot to take her her thingie I knitted. Shit. We’ll have to run it over there later.
I wish it had snowed. The only time I like snow is Christmas.
There. That’s done.
That’s the first time we had a Doctor Who marathon instead of a Christmas Story marathon. Totally not complaining.
Someone needs to take a nap. Someone refuses to admit he needs to take a nap.
huh. That never would have occurred to me at all.
“He’s just lettin’ ya know that he’s happy that you’re eating at the coffee table.”
I need to restock on pasties this weekend.
I’m not sure that screeching is a legitimate form of communication.
I need to dive into this Nick Offerman book so I can give it back.
Dear Lord, it’s time to go to bed. Just go to sleep. GO TO SLEEP. Devil baby.
Wow, that brioche is really popular these days.
I don’t think you’d call that sleeping. Also this floor is astonishingly hard.
It’s a little surprising what a total lack of sleep will do to your outlook. I hate everyone right now.
better – run run run run run run run away
Once more unto the breach, dear friends …
Oh my God. It’s too much stuff.
I’m never going to make it.
She told her partner that if the evening ended and everyone was still alive, you could count it as a success. She was not wrong.
I don’t think my stomach liked that very much.
I need a Weeping Angel for my lawn. Actually two. They can sit at the end of the driveway on either side and scare people away.
I was not planning to have to do laundry at this point in the evening.
OK. Christmas is officially over. Thank God.
Although. I have to say. It came and went pretty fast this year.
This special snowflake is flipping exhausted.
What did he die of? Boredom?
Hell’s Bells, I’m almost done with this sleeve. Why do sleeves always take FOREVER??
I want to knit all the things. Why can’t knitting just be my job?
I need some of that Sculpey clay. What a weird name.
What a weird sound.
Ugh. I have to order that text book. And change my campus code.
Can it be? Is he really asleep?? Nope. Of course not. DAMMIT!!!!
Happy Happy Happy Holidays, chickens. I love you guys.