Rats: “Hey, look, we’re real sorry about that whole plague thing. We’ll find some mines for you, okay? We cool? No more traps?”

Dads? Fuck that. I’m a 29 year old woman and I don’t know how to freaking braid. You need right arms, three mirrors and a legion of bobby pins and ponytail holders to do that shit. Impossible!

Bet you a Schilling the rumors are true. Though some think they don’t Carrie much weight. Either way soon enough one of us will have to pay the Piper.

This is merely an exercise in “What’s the most challenging thing I could possibly write?”

I like blonde dude’s chest hair.

Only child, here. This is 100% accurate for me:

Would never stop watching.

I want to watch a buddy cop show about her and Rachel Dolezal. Rach is the tough, take-no-shit, blackface cop. She doesn’t need a gun or badge; she’s got her bow and arrow and her race card. Belle is the freewheeling hippie cop with a tragic secret: she’s dying of fake-ass cancer. Together, they must team up to fight…

“I’ve always been raised as being currently a 26-year-old,”

and my grandparents at the beach, and my sister and I, living the high life.

My aunt and uncle in early 1920s.

Me, my sister, and cousins on a camping trip in the early 90s. How cute is my sister’s smile?!

Here is grandma, sadly without the bathing suit. But I love her outfit in this picture.

I have so many great ones but I don't want to post my siblings/parents without their consent. So I will settle for this one which shows the same style principles (white, pink, platinum hair) to which I still abide. Well done, baby panther.

The Irish Riviera (Breezy Point) circa 1951

I basically spent my summers showing horses from age 4-17.

Disclaimer: I am 200% cuter now, don’t worry.

Jesus. Hector. Christ. I hope someone proposes during her stupid fucking wedding. I hope everyone who’s not the bride wears white just to spite her. I hope her maid of honor gives a really mean, passive-aggressive speech. I hope her aunt gets too drunk and hits on the groom, and he goes for it.