I’ve noticed that people with ‘different’ jobs (not standard office jobs, not jobs where you go in and do essentially the same thing every day) have more of this feeling.

What.the.fuck

The kids clothes for ‘formal’/official outings have always looked, as one person commented with Prince George, like the ghosts of children who died in the Blitz. The theory being put out that if they dress them like little 1940s dolls, when they are out and about with nanny or whomever, they are are dressed like…

How much do you give your dog? I’m trying to get my dog’s separation anxiety under control (he’s had a hard life. Legitimately). But I can’t figure out how much to give him. Currently he gets 6 drops of 750mg once a day in his food, he’s 14lbs. It seems to be helping a bit but I don’t want to over do it either. 

Because he was confused about her still being queen? What on earth...

Not me, but I have been yelled at for spoiling the ending to Argo, which was at that point HISTORICAL and DECLASSIFIED and was also on a streaming service so it had been a while. They were like ‘but how would we know?!’. It’s the Iran hostage crisis, kids. It’s even gotten to the point of declassification. That’s the…

Me too. I looked up who died on GOT last week before I watched so I could lessen that anxiety. I’m anxious enough, I don’t need to add to this.

No keto for guinea piggehs. Bad real bad. 

They are really using their instagram to further their causes in a way I don’t think the other royals have really managed. Sure they post about what Will and Catharine are patrons of, and they post about what ballet company the Queen sponsors, but it is never in a ‘you all too can do something for these groups, let us…

I couldn’t even bring myself to dabble in Tinder (mostly because I knew a few of my coworkers were on there, and that’s a no). It seemed too scary and I was too much like a new born Bambi to think I’d survive. 

It’s a hellscape.

I have a weird fascination with the European royal families and their intermarriages during the late 19th/early 20th century right before WWI. And you start to notice whose features win out in the genetic lottery. 

Oh, Alexandra was fabulous and gorgeous. But that long facial structure manages OK through George V, gets a little odd in George VI and somehow just wiggled its way past Elizabeth and onto Charles while having a good stir with the rest of the lot. William somehow managed for a bit to seem to miss the elongated face…

The Windsor genes (well, Queen Alexandra’s genes) really caught up with him. Their poor, strangely elongated faces. 

And they created a fucking bullshit standard for widowed women that they should only love once and once that person is gone they should be cloistered the rest of their days.

I sleep talk, normally just nonsense (and sometimes also German). My late husband used to notice it a lot and would try to embark on conversations with sleep me, which were apparently quite entertaining.

I’m already one of those people with an annoyingly long torso and annoyingly short legs.

Trench Fuck: Slightly sexier than Trench Foot. 

Pfft. All I want is the corgis. 

I want to see him mow that fucking bowling green 18th century style for less money than GW did.