Late to the thread but I picked up a foster dog today and she is giving me panic attacks. She’s a runner and already broke out of a harness and ran around our street for 40 minutes before she growled and rolled over to get picked up. Only the 2nd time in 20 years of fostering one got away and I can’t stop picturing…

Good luck but the best job in the world is either margerita tester or puppy snuggler.

I ban bearly handle seeing that.

The human head weighs 8 lbs and half of his is nose.

I am old enough to have had several long term jobs during my “career.” Out of the half dozen, the two worst, I mean fucking awful, were the husband and wife run companies. No predictable work flow, no structure, absolutely no avenues for feedback. On the phone wrapping up a multi thousand dollar deal and wifey comes…

I think that the point is that he has a shit ton of power and a giant wagon of money and could deliberately make great movies starring women. I read memoirs and have thought that several amazing stories about women who fought and survived the holocaust would be well told by Spielberg. And not just women in war but…

I love names that are sound effects when you say them out loud. Ansel Elgort is one. Ansel Elgort. Ansel Elgort. Ansel Elgort. I also like saying the Cubs’“Ian Happ” out loud. too.

They need a whole floor so Solange can sneak up there and give birth.

Actually, I’m the recording secretary.

And you can’t declare something a word just because people constantly misspell it. Still not a word

Nope. No such word as “woah” no matter how hard you try.

There is no such word as “woah.” There is also probably no god (I might as well go full annoying douchebag on this one, sorry).

Thanks but no worries. I like history so am on a run of memoirs that enforce my mantra of “it could be worse.” This week was the 75th anniversary of Anne Frank getting her diary as a birthday present. So yeah, my life could be worse.

Friends getting cancer, mold in the basement, busybodies causing job threatening drama, topped off with my neighbor just now bringing over something in a flower pot to show me and explaining she heard a scream and saw a rat murdering a chipmunk. THE BLOODY DEAD CHIPMUNK WAS IN THE POT. I should have no fucking teeth.…

George Peppard in his prime or go home. Where is Jerry-Netherland when I need a photo and one of his fabulous stories?

Sorry, Captain Polite, I’m not buying your oh-so-mannerly explanation. I want to hear from Lieutenant Asshole.

It’s not really sad like an orphaned kitten. It’s really just weird and frustrating. See how it’s working right now so it looks fixed until I try to comment on Trump with the most perfect comment ever and then can’t post. That’s sad.

If I could access the publish button on an edit I would fix my misspelled  post but can’t so I’m just going to enjoy the kinja “finite” scrolling where apparently for the last several days Taboola ads are the most important thing.

I would like to officially announce that I am not or ever will be pregnant with my first chold.

It’s not going to be a fun wedding when his son marries a delightful hispanic gentleman.