And I can’t say “Bittersweet Symphony” strikes me as a great choice for a confirmation.

I need the agent to go away. Now. He’s the worst.

Bingo! Let’s just have Betty do her Nancy Drew thing, work to get back on the newspaper staff, and maybe do some cheer things? I miss the River Vixens!

God, I’m getting a headache just thinking about the hangover this would cause.

This is really the ideal, except that I’ve been too lazy to get all the equipment needed to make myself Sazeracs on a regular basis.

I can’t say I explicitly look for bars that don’t have TVs, but now that I think about it, very few of the places where I regularly drink have TVs. It is far more restful.

Could you maybe share one of those dog photos? This whole article is pretty fucking bleak, and we could all use the joy of seeing a good doggo.

Cheesy chicken and rice casserole! It was so good.

That’s fair. I’m mostly just ready to graduate—in part because I spend all 2.5 hours of that class trying not to strangle the former Peace Corps volunteer in class who has to bring it up every time he answers a fucking question.

Bingo. I’ll just check the WaPo headlines tomorrow. Hell, I’m in a political science grad program and I refuse, even though everyone I know will be subjecting themselves to it in a performance of Suffering Olympics with a dash of “Look at ME, doing all the reading!”

Precisely! I have class tonight (Democratic Decay and Authoritarianism, because I hate myself apparently), but we get out before it begins. I intend to watch The Good Place instead.

See, this is why I wish we had a young Jimmy Stewart to play Mister Rogers, if it had to be done at all.

Seriously. Mr. Rogers is my spiritual master, and I try to ask myself if I’m being the kind of neighbor he would want me to be.

And his mom knitted most of those sweaters!

But then he married Giuliana, who is consistently the worst part of E!’s red carpet coverage.

I’m so sorry. I hope your ex steps on a Lego and falls down a few steps while getting up in the middle of the night to pee. And that he then can’t sleep until five minutes before his alarm goes off. People who aren’t nice to dogs don’t deserve a good night’s sleep.

I broke up with a man I’d been seeing who felt entitled to tell me (after asking to see ME several times) that my weight was “a concern”. Do I feel good right now? No! I feel shitty, and drunk, and lacking in value, and like I’m never going to be loved. But that piece of shit is no longer in my life, so I’ll take my…

I’m sorry. I can’t say I have good news; I just had to kick out a man I’d been seeing because he felt like telling me my weight was “a concern” and I gave him his coat. I don’t believe that things will ever work out the way I want them to, so I’ve decided to focus on not crying/hating myself as my goals for now.

Precisely! Admittedly, my favorite is a variation called Eggs Chesapeake, where it has a crab cake instead of Canadian bacon, but still! Eggs Benedict and a Bloody Mary is all I want out of this life.

I’m entirely okay with an absolutist monarchy under Queen Viola I.