My dog is 10lbs and he is always so desperately sad that I won’t let him in the big dog side of the park. He doesn’t know he’s small! I’ve seen a Great Dane back away from him because he was so excited to meet her!

My hair only has volume because of the curl. It is super fine. When it’s straight I look like a drowned rat. So I don’t straighten it.

Honestly, I’ve usually said I’m a puffer fish, because I have these chubby cheeks but if you make me mad I will be GIANT BALL OF SPIKES.

Chaplin.

The interviews were fine, although objectively embarrassing: I was applying to be a kids’ drama instructor so we did a group interview with improv. Which makes perfect sense in context, obviously.

Gonna be Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar later, but I’m trying to finish a sewing project so I’m not gonna start until it’s done. I know myself well enough to know that I should never drink and sew.

Or ebooks! He absolutely hated the idea. Ironically, for years the only one of his books you could get for kindle was ... Fahrenheit 451.

The first time was in 1989. He was still pretty spry then; I remember he gave a talk at my local library. He was dressed in a white polo shirt and shorts and looked like a big golf ball.

She is a beautiful woman and she let me hug her at Emerald City Comicon a couple years ago. I am not sharing the photo because I look terrifying.

I think it’s more like ... they all knew, they just didn’t think it was important. Just like the crew in the middle of the actual Cold War didn’t think it was noteworthy that they had a Russian aboard.

I feel like I should agree with George. But I don’t. I see his point and I still don’t agree.

I met Ray Bradbury four times and never managed to get out more than “hi” and “thank you” when he autographed a book.

My daughter’s a dead ringer ... for her father.

Bless Washington State, all the pokestops and gyms I can see from my house are in state or city parks. Literally one is the park entrance sign 1000 feet from my home.

You know, “Burn” doesn’t make me cry. I’m more like “Yeah you fucking TELL him girl!” But “Dear Theodosia” will set me off. And frankly, I cry at “Yorktown” too.

You’ll need 2.5 uninterrupted hours and a large box of Kleenex. Fair warning.

He’s the human embodiment of a beagle puppy: loud, boisterous, hyperactive, and completely adorable.

He tweets so much I don’t know how he gets anything else done. And I’m not even ON Twitter, I only see what gets to his Facebook.

Wait, what do you mean “no super slow sad numbers”? Have you somehow NOT sobbed your way through “It’s Quiet Uptown”??

That’ll keep motherfuckers out of my personal space, all right.