This photo just feels so funereal to me.

I’m going to start a new photo series. Photos of places that feel funereal but have absolutely nothing to do with funerals. Funereal Spaces. Funereal Photos. One of those. I’m doing it.

I’m giving up on applying for jobs in that building. It’s never gonna happen.

Nothing dreamier than film.

I’m sorry, but isn’t this 100% protected under the First Amendment??

Those weather maps literally never make sense to me. And yet I still click on them.


Well. That’s not exactly what I meant. But whatever.

“Vehicle drove around crossing arms in fatal train crash.” I cannot tell you how confused I was over that headline at first.

Like some petulant car just crossing its arms all full of attitude, driving around. “I’ll do what I want!”

I love it when people use tenant when they mean tenet. HI-larious. I also think it’s hilarious that so many people associate Peterson with this “men’s rights movement.”

So he’s not just a sociopath, he’s also a really shitty writer.

You guys.  This will hurt, but please read it.

Sometimes it’s really hard to remember that I am so much more than this stupid job.

“In the future, everything will be made of chickpeas.” I fucking loathe chickpeas.

Two sentences into a story in The NEW YORKER and there’s already a spelling error. People have no goddamn standards any more. The New Yorker for fuck’s sake.

I’ve talked about this before but here’s some new research on it. I can tell you that the RAGE is very very real.

I have argued for years that people’s urge to self segregate is innate. Human beings are naturally tribalistic. We will always seek out and surround ourselves with our own kind, whether it’s nerds or Norwegians or libertarians or even, yes, ethnicities.

I have this meeting once a month, and every single time, this jackass sits across the room staring at me. I can’t tell if he’s waiting for me to go postal or if he’s just really sorry he was such an asshole that time. I guess I don’t care which as long as I don’t have to talk to him.

Holding up Mr. Rogers’ advice to “look for the helpers” and saying THIS IS NOT ENOUGH is ridiculous. This message was meant for children, not adults. Why don’t you hold up his advice and say people will be looking, so go be a helper?

Better yet – and this is sort of becoming my mantra, thanks Avett Brothers – Decide what to be and go be it.

This just in: Eggs are bad for you again. PLEASE. Just stop.

I think I’m done applying for jobs around here. Fuck it.

CBD infused coffee seems counterproductive somehow.

It’s probably not a good place to be, frame of mind wise. I don’t know what you want from me, but you’re not likely to get it.

What am I even doing?

I didn’t know this was a thing, and I think it’s pretty horrific. I don’t understand how this is OK.

Sorry, Facebook. I can’t with you today, either.

I’m just marking all of the cat related ads Instagram shoves into my feed as offensive at this point, because enough with the fucking cats.


Please stop putting candy at the front desk. There is no fucking room for this shit. Oh good. Now I get to listen to you eating it too. Hoo-fucking-ray. I should not be physically able to hear you right now. It should not be possible. Why are you even standing there? WTF are you even paid for?

I’m telling you. You want to get me to crack in interrogation? Force me to listen to you eat something.

If your week is anything like mine, don’t watch this absolutely beautiful and heartbreaking and lovely video. Because you will cry. A lot.

Look. The building is all booked up. I can’t help you. And being pissy with me about it is not going to advance your cause.

Fuck. All I wanted was to finish this fucking paper today and I just cannot even do it. I hate everything.

Wow. I’d very much love to see this in person.

I’m pretty sure you don’t actually understand what that phrase means.

First of all, I didn’t know Lollapalooza was still clinging to life. B) this year’s lineup is, to steal someone else’s word, absolute trash. Ariana Grande? Are you fucking serious with this foolishness?

I’m so glad I’m too old for music festivals.

I want Jack and Sally please.


I don’t know why you’re even reading this.

Are you even reading this?

On the positive, my new mattress came in the mail today.

I don’t like Jeffrey Tambor.

I like sleep. I’d like some more of that.

I’m not getting some more of that.

I’m going home now. You should too.