This will always be one of my favorite photographs. It never fails to make me laugh.

Stormageddon looks so much like my Grandpa Norman.

Hello snow day number 4.5. I love you. Let’s be best friends.

yep

Knee-jerk is the default. For everyone. Exhausting.

Welcome to our dystopian future.

I don’t even care about football.

You make everything worse. There’s nothing wrong with these napkins. Nothing. They’re kind of funny.

My pants smell weird.

Well. Thank your mom for being a lousy housekeeper, W and Stormageddon.

And all those farm animal germs.

I love you, caramel apple cider. You’re my real best friend.

I hate this town.

We don’t “need to talk” or “have a conversation” about anything. Cept death.

Well. I guess these people have nothing to hide.

This is fascinating and kind of brilliant.

I’m certainly not willing to pay people who are unwilling to work.

I wish I had a cinnamon roll.

This week is trying to kill me.

Ask again later.

What do I know? I don’t have a PhD in English, so clearly I’m a moron.

Gorram paywalls.

Yes please.

No 4H kid is ever gonna stop cuddling their chickens.

It’s not a lower bar, it’s just a more succinct one.

This is not a complicated process. Just follow the very incredibly easy instructions spelled out for you on the website.

Yep.

The 1460s are my jam. Ma’am.

At least I take a minute to learn how to

I don’t know why I join these email lists. It’s not like I can afford to buy anything from these people.

Take your antisemitism elsewhere.

Yet another reason for a home funeral and burial in my own private cemetery.

First of all, WTF is Post Malone? Secondly, I just saw a photo of that thing on stage with the Chili Peppers at the Grammys and all I could think was if I saw any of these people on the street, I’d cross it with my hand on the grip of my pistol. How utterly repulsive. Anthony Kiedis has somehow evolved to look just exactly like what you picture when you think “child molester.” Put your tongue back in your mouth, freak show. Bleah. No thank you.

And getting back to that Post Malone thing. He’s a musician? What does he even do? WTF with those fucking prison tattoos all over his face? He’s repellent. Just no. Tattoo the shit out of yourself, I don’t care. I have tattoos. I want more. But this guy? Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew. And what the hell kind of name is POST? Dude. Post is a cereal brand, not a name. And what is on his teeth???

Harrowing is such a good word.

Stop telling me what to do. No really.

Everywhere I am is just another thing with

jen with one n

hmmmm that’s a little weird for me, I think.

No thanks. I cannot stand Leonardo “But I really really really wanna be Jack Nicholson” DiCaprio.

I’m pretty sure Instagram knows I don’t own or even particularly like cats, and that is why they insist on filling my feed with ads for cat related crap. Diabolical bastards.

Why did I think Justin Theroux was Canadian or something?

I don’t actually care for Book Bug or This Is A Bookstore. I’d rather spend my money at apolitical institutions. Or at least institutions who don’t club me over the head with their politics.

I need to sit with your comments for a while.

Jesus.

It doesn’t matter if people are looking at my profile, LinkedIn. None of them are looking to offer me a kick ass job.

No matter how many times I say it, I will always stumble over hermeneutics.

Holy shit, I’m tired.

I kind of really love this a lot.

I would not.

But what if I just don’t care?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

What has The Little Prince meant to you?

You can buy me a cup of coffee by hitting the tip jar over there to the right. You can tip me for all this quality awesome from mah brains. And by coffee I mean tea. And by tea I probably mean yarn.

Yes, but how does she plan to pay for it?

I prefer red sauce to cream sauce.

Huh. I had no idea we were shutting down our FL campus. That didn’t last long. Glad I didn’t go for a job down there. What a waste of money that venture was.

That dude is asking thirty bux for his used Champion fanny pack. I’m cracking up.

“Be specific!” OK. How bout we sell off California. Who needs California anyway?

I have to look up the definition of that word over and over because I cannot for the life of me ever remember what it means.

Um. This is not a”for-profit” university, dude.

I don’t really want to share him with you. Sorry.

I love how faculty bitch about students not following directions (I do it too) and then I send an email out to 150 faculty and 20% of them don’t follow directions.

My shoulder hurts.

Nothing like trying to dig a sliver out of your own thumb to really make your day a great one.

I used to smile with my teeth more.

I want the cookies but I don’t want to do the work to get the cookies. I clearly do not want the cookies bad enough.

I completely forgot what I was just going to say.

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