I start drinking at 7. It feeds my inner extrovert, which I need to fawn over costumes and not scowl, while exerting my full flexibility to hold back the dog horde.

They’re awesome on a cold night with a shot of booze too. Warms the bones after shoveling snow.

Hello future anniversary trip for me and Mr. Farticus. After the museum of abnormal fetuses in Amsterdam (honeymoon revolved around going to the Mutter Museum of Medical Oddities)

It’s their first favorite toy.

A drink. It’s grated ginger (more ginger=more snot dumping), topped with boiling water, the juice of half a lemon, and as much honey as you like. It’s delicious hot or cold.

Bailed on Halloween plans because 1.) Couldn’t find a grey wig and stuffed cats. 2.) There were going to be people Drunk Me wouldn’t be able to show verbal restraint towards.

I’m a big fan of myself. I still giggle about it.

I’ve been getting hammered and handing out candy since I got home.

Because they wouldn’t make it too far before whichever Republican candidate they tried to protest had security toss them out.

Their legal fund certainly deserves every dollar they get.

Real talk: Eleanor Abernathy (Crazy Cat Lady) is my Halloween costume.

It's hard enough to take a good "I hiked several hours for this bullshit, admire it damn it" picture as it is.

A+

In Michigan forever. Hung out with boys who had weed when I was younger. They all did this shit.

For Governor Bentley.

Fuck, I already had a 3 beer work lunch.

And now I’m ugly crying

I'd probably tear off my husband's head praying mantis style. His father would then tell me I did the right thing because even that old born-again Christian finds this kind of thinking repugnant.

I refuse to be fart shamed!

I fart everywhere all the time.