dearworldstopsinkingmyshipsorelse
thetrumpocalypseishere
dearworldstopsinkingmyshipsorelse

This is new infinity stone. We are doomed.

*I really do hate it when people text in the movie theater though.

“Abnormal hobbit friend”, I’m dying here.

He looks like he’s about ready for year one of Hogwart’s in both photos.

Taylor is sticking to the UK men, I see. Did her abnormal hobbit friend introduce them?

Yeah, pretty much. the photo here is not very flattering. I just did a google image search, and he has better photos. Although he does kind of strike me as Joseph Gordon Levitt starring in a James Spader biopic.

And this:

Literally, for everything he does, there is a tweet to perfectly fit the situation. Its kind of funny, once you get over the pure horror that is our current reality.

No no no, this is totally different. Hillary *deleted* classified information. Trump just shared it with Russia and anyone dining at Mar-a-Lago. Lock her up!

I can’t wait for Paul Ryan, Marcus Rubinstein, et al to come out with their courageous condemnations of this, since I know how concerned they are about mishandling of classified information. /s

It’s OK, you guys. The WaPo comment section assures me that this is FAKE NEWS.

My immediate reaction:

Ha! I used to say that my future husband was in the process of getting divorced.

My mother apparently met someone and moved in with him about a year ago. She’s 64. They’ve got two dogs and half a dozen VW Bugs now.

My parents divorced at 65, and they both have partners (both have elected not to remarry) that they are WAAAAAAY happier with than they ever were with each other. So it really can happen, even very late in life.

/hug

I’ve never read a more beautiful story that started with a can of creamed corn to the face. Actually it’s only story I’ve read like that. But it’s still beautiful.

With Mother’s Day coming up tomorrow, I just wanted to share the story of when I was eight and my mom threw a can of creamed corn at me in a grocery store. In her defense, she did yell “Here, catch!” as the corn was halfway through its trajectory; just in time for me to look up, ensuring it hit me square in the face.