I’m going to go ahead and do something I pretty much *never* do: Quote the Bible. “The love of money is the root of all evil.” Now I’ll go ahead and do something I do all the time: Cuss. Fuck you, Grassley.

Small success of the week: I found TWO pairs of jeans that fit decently today! They were on the clearance rack, and the clearance rack was BOGO, and one of the pairs was so cheap that I went back to the clearance racks for more stuff and found a bra in my size! And then I got an eyeliner to make things even, and I got…

The part where he was behaving normally was the most shocking and revealing part of Interior. Leather Bar. to me. It really showed that *everything* he does is a performance.

There is nothing about this anecdote that surprised me except the fact that he also wore facial prosthetics. For some reason, that seems weird. This whole thing seemed like a surreal performance art project, and I look forward to the inevitable matryoshka of behind-the-scenes footage sure to come.

This is what we do at my office. Last year, it didn’t happen because budget, but the other years (including this one), we go to a nearby restaurant for lunch at 11am, have a sit down lunch, and go home. We do have limits on alcohol after The Incident, but there are always extra tickets floating around for one reason…

When she was eight years old? I’m thinking you mean Ivana, the first wife and mother of the unholy trio.

My translation: The door lock button wasn’t installed in my desk. It was a remote control I carried with me.

Like “OH MY GOD I AM SO EXCITED I CANNOT CONTROL MY BODY! [insert fifteen minutes of awkward headbutts]” Fortunately, he *can* control his excretory functions.

It’s awkward even when you’re talking about these:

This is my cat. He’s an aggressive cuddler Like so aggressive it’s like he’s mad at me. But, no, he just doesn’t know how to be gentle.

Just looking at the stills, I kept hearing one of my favorite classical pieces: Danse Macabre. (Oddly, I used to have it on a Russian Christmas album despite the fact that it’s actually French.)

It’s officially satsuma season! I’ve been checking various grocery stores every few days and finally found some at Whole Foods yesterday. They’re quite possibly my favorite citrus fruit, and they’re only around for a brief period of time each year, so I have to start eating way too many pretty much RIGHT NOW.

Notoriously Morbid (they’re doing a set with some *stunning* multichromes inspired by Tucker and Dale vs. Evil for Black Friday), innocent+twisted alchemy (I love their shadows, and they’re shutting down permanently in a couple of months, so this is a last hurrah kind of release. I went for their Chocolate Reverie…

Pesto pasta salad is always a huge hit with my coworkers. Pasta, premade storebought pasta, chopped up sundried tomatoes (dehydrated or the kind in oil. It doesn’t matter as long as they’re sundried), and shredded Parmesan cheese. Top with toasted sliced almonds when you serve it if you have some handy. It’s good…

This morning, I checked my email and discovered I had ordered a bunch of eyeshadow from one of my favorite indie companies while I was stoned last night. I look forward to finding out what I ordered at some point in the future since I don’t remember and don’t really care enough right now to double-back and check. I…

I almost feel like prison is doing a fantastic job of providing a rehabilitative structure for these two girls and teaching them how to be *people* instead of the punching bags they had been their whole lives. It’s horrifying that they had to go to prison in order to get this, though.

She reminds me of Gypsy Rose Blanchard in this respect.

I don’t decorate for Christmas. At all. I think it’s because my mom was so frantically obsessed with it that I get anxious just *thinking* about it. Everything had to be perfect, and she would cry because nothing can ever be perfect, and she always thought it was all her fault. So I just sidestep that by not doing…

One of the bosses kind of wigged out on a coworker today when he (the boss) found out she (the coworker) doesn’t celebrate Thanksgiving. It’s his favorite holiday! Why doesn’t she celebrate it? Um, maybe because she’s Indian, and she just moved to the US a few years ago, and they don’t celebrate American Thanksgiving…

It’s just the cats (one of whom has spent almost all day lounging right in the middle of my bed, where he is not usually allowed, but I decided to let him in the bedroom today) and me (not a fan of social gatherings), so it’s a snacks and Netflix day. Two movies so far: Beauty and the Beast (live-action version) and…