If everyone could install XKit and use it to turn on photo replies to your posts by default—as we all once did in the ancient much-lamented days of Missing E—I would really appreciate it because I have all of these gifs and they’re just sitting here, looping forlornly.
And thus our saga concludes.
[zoom in on remaining half of pear tree]
…Or does it?
Before & after. Damn near half of an 11-yard-tall bradford pear tree broke off in Thursday’s high winds, bounced off my fence (breaking eight pickets), and then slid downhill. Extracting it required cutting it into ten foot sections with a chainsaw (while standing on a slick 40 degree slope, mind you), dragging it uphill and around the house, then breaking it down so that no part is larger than a yard so that the people we pay to take away the trash will actually take away the trash. I have seen them out there with measuring tape.
Feeling super butch this morning. So butch that I might have butch poisoning. Oh god I’m dizzy. I’m going to go lay down for a while.
But only by like a month.
Chris: Who is Dylan O’Brien?
Me: SOO tempted to send you a LMGTFY link right now. But basically he’s an actor from a show tumblr is obsessed with about teenage werewolves.
Me: Also he is very very pretty.
Chris: Oh fuck youuuuuuuuuu
Looks like I have exciting weekend plans. Thanks, derecho!
I TOLD YOU FUCKERS — Jill Stein, June 6th 2013
I’m about to start charging Randall Munroe rent.
It has rained every day this week. You think that stopped us? Pictured: waving “hi” to tropical storm Andrea.
There’s nothing quite like being locked out of a hotel room at 4 AM, a mere twenty feet from a desperately needed shower, 16 feet from a more-desperately needed coffee pot, to help you fully appreciate the thin veneer of civilization which holds us all in check. I’m about to go track down the loud-ass goose that led me outside in the first place, half awake and craving a smoke, and give him a light cunt punting.