My husband and I did treat ourselves to a fun rug in anticipation of laying it on the new floor:

Picked up a crazy cheap copy of From Caligari to Hitler: A Psychological History of the German Film 1918-1933 and a less cheap but still desirable Complete Poems of Dorothy Parker.

Getting new flooring. We never really liked the basic beige (and easily staining) carpet the flippers put in this house, and they did a lousy job installing it (at one point loose staples were coming up through it— we think they spilled some and couldn’t be arsed to sweep them up). So soon there will be a nice…

With all due respect to the signholder, Trump lacks the depth and the charm.

The funny thing about Keiko is she didn’t need to steal or be possessive about food— she was born at the Tinykittens rescue facility and food was always readily available. I think she just likes the fun of the hunt.

I’m beginning to think the blue states— the West Coast ones, at any rate— should look into a dead-hand-style system if this chucklefuck starts a nuke war with North Korea. You red states got a hard-on for war? We’ll make sure you get a taste too.

We’re going to get flooring to replace the rather ugly and too-easily-stained carpet the flippers put in this house. Shifting stuff out of some of the rooms isn’t going to be fun, though...

Really, you could just quote a Warren Ellis villain and be nearly as accurate:

The color scheme isn’t really my cuppa, but I get the sense that everything was assembled thoughtfully by someone who really knew what they want.

Those built-in bookcases are just awesome, too.

We should be so lucky.

Me at the end of 2017:

Yes, so very much. I think Jackie Robinson had to essentially take the same tactic. At least Ty Cobb was well the fuck out of MLB by the time he got in.

The Mar-a-Lago thing just made me think of this song:

Obligatory. Also.

Except in this case the Enquirer’s chief editor has his tongue so far up Trump’s ass he could do prostate examinations by taste.

Transcribed a whole mess of recipes to Word so they can be printed out on 3x5 cards and be more legible than my dodgy printing. The neck and eye strain was worth it.

Ha— you want bad werewolf movies, watch the Howling sequels.

Indeed— it’s like how you can’t set out to make a cult film; they must simply happen.

I can’t believe this puddle of high-fructose corn-syrup vomit didn’t make the cut: