Could really go for some feral-hogs-style posting right now. Nobody try to make this happen. It needs to be organic.
No luck, in case you were wondering.
Did I just google "Joseph Breen in a bathing suit" for a joke? That's between me and the world government monitoring my internet activity.
If you have a Tumblr called Premillennialists in Ill-Fitting Shoes, no shade. Keep being weird.
Unlike some, I don't have a fetish for the ankles of men with Lego hair who project their sexual shame onto everyone else.
Now I gotta look at pictures of Republican feet? Will no corner of my brain be spared?
There's an essential part of learning than involves pressing every button and swearing that I worry kids are trying to bypass.
As do I!
Figure I've got about 17 more days of blaming the time change for all my inadequacies.
That's exactly what the people at Canadian Tire said.
Like Dakota Johnson, I've also captured attention by slowly revealing my bum for a camera. It was the security camera at Canadian Tire and I'd unknowingly ripped a giant hole in my pants. But still.
Watched that Dakota Johnson Calvin Klein ad and she and I have so much in common it's spooky. Bangs AND a couch? We're twins.
Hahahaha
And by "lashed myself to my office chair" I mean "surrounded my keyboard with chips."
Have lashed myself to my office chair to finish my transcribing work, so if you hear any swears whispering to you in the wind, that's me.
Don't have any further social media platforms in me, so if this one goes under, I'll be juggling a dozen niche group chats with names like "Interested in Character Actors Who Played Bellhops" and "Self-Deprecation City."
If physical media can come back, then so can Western Union. Bespoke skeets for all.
Well, at least nobody can become CEO of me shouting my posts through a megaphone.
Greta Garbo and John Barrymore during a break from filming Grand Hotel (1932)
Like the person you just reposted, we'd regularly get a Broons compendium from my mom's aunt in Scotland. So that's 3 degrees of latitude south.
My favourite film ❤️. And magical is as good a descriptor as any. I know every line of dialogue—even some of the Scots Gaelic—& yet it’s still the first I reach for when my heart is aching. 88 perfect minutes.
Not sure that was strictly legal on my grandmother's part, but the criminals are all dead now and I learned a lot on that hot piano.
My great-grandmother was a Sarah, but she hated the name and went by Dorothy. When she died, my grandmother found cash stuffed in nooks and crannies around her house and used it to buy me my first piano. I should probably start calling myself Dorothy too.
Looks like Sarahs battled it out in the top 10 until 2010, the year every parent realized there was a Sarah they hated.
André Courrèges #BOTD 1923 His clothes epitomized (for good or ill) the mod, pre-flower-power '60s, and a kind of space-age optimism about the future of clothes and (maybe) women’s lives. As a bonus, simplified versions were easily copied, by both the rag trade & patterns for home-sewers like me.
An impossible challenge.
Haha, right? It was so sweet and felt like a genuine gesture of gratitude and kindness.
I agree about tuning in. Think of how the man on the bus summarizes Joan's fiance, "the rich man of Kiloran": the fish do not know him.
How lovely!
In the case of IKWIG, the magic is blowing through the curtains and hammering at the door. But some of us need to get saltwater in our eyes and nearly sucked into a whirlpool to figure things out.
