I freely admit I’ve never read Jack Kerouac and it’s because it was the trendy thing to do in college and so I resisted. It seemed so cliche. Now, I feel like I need to look at some of his work, as I’ve learned more over the years about who he was.
Hey. I don’t knit some patterns for the same reason. Speckles aren’t that hot, and I am so over the fade trend.
I’m still annoyed at the ambiguity of that KAL.
Why should I have to leave? I was here first.
This is actually heaven. Let’s move.
This is really a special kind of torture.
It’s fine. I don’t need to be invited. I don’t even care at all. I’m probably busy anyway.
Deceased is not actually a verb.
Don’t get pissy with me, I don’t make the rules.
Wow. The tuition at that school is more than I make in a year.
I’d like to take this moment to recognize the teenager for trapping the mouse (and writing a note warning me, complete with illustrations) that fell into the cup of grease on the counter. And the husband for dealing with the grease coated mouse (that did not die from a grease overdose) trapped in the cup as I was not about to touch that mess while getting ready for work. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is just one of the many, many, many reasons that men are indispensable.
Well, I’ve seen the word jape. How has an English major never seen the word jape?
Wow. I wish I could have visited this island on the New York trip. I’d just spend my whole visit there shooting, to be honest.
“And she was Loretta Lynn’s sister.”
“She still is.”
But why don’t you just knock on the wall the number of statues that you see?
Don’t pick your teeth while I’m talking to you. I am not your wife.
It’s not emashiated. Stop saying emashiated. It’s e-mace-e-ated. Come on.
Oh right. There’s the imposter syndrome again. WTF am I?
So many “in case there was any doubt” posts. So self-righteous. Professional Scolds.
Oh look. I’m quoted in The Post Millennial.
Ooooooh. I have a new judicial crush.
My face hurts.
Wait. How would a trans woman ever need an abortion? That’s not even biologically a thing. WTAF.
Oh. I need some of the roadside memorial photos for this. Duh.
I’ll just spend tomorrow putting this shit together in publisher. Yep. For workshops no one is going to attend and I can’t find locations for. WHEEEEEE
Hey. Would y’all listen to my podcast about death? I’ll need subscribers. It won’t be morbid. Usually.
I admit I did not read past the headline, but I’m not sure that narrative ever matters more than fact.
Wait. This math does not compute. I think this is still wrong.
If the future is female, I’ll stay here in the present, thanks.
The longer this KitKat sits here, the less I want to eat it. Why do I take candy? It just gets old.
All it takes is a jackhammer, man.
Yes. Yes, I did buy the overpriced t-shirt.
all the very best of us
This is what I mean by selective memory and selective outrage from the left. Don’t pretend like this shit just magically started under Trump, because you know damn well your lord and savior built those facilities and enacted those policies.
I’m feeling some serious melancholy today.
Dude. It’s fine. Stop re-sending it.
Why am I even bothering to look at the job postings? There’s never anything there.
I’ve never seen Eyes Wide Shut.
When am I not starving?
I did alright in New York, actually. I ate very little the whole time I was there. So strange. I need to get back into that frame of mind somehow.
I hate my summer hair.
Must be weird, being treated like a rock star everywhere you go. I wonder if that changes how you see yourself.
Two days with people who treat you like you have something of value to contribute then back to the reality of people treating you like you’re nothing more than your job title.
OK This is ridiculous.
I will not feel mentally shitty. You can’t make me.
I’ma go eat some pizza or something. And take migraine drugs. And tell Stormageddon how much I like his bloody horror drawings. And stuff. And things.