Dude, when I do learn to ride a bike, there will be streamers and a basket and a bell. I’m basically Pheobe.
Phoebe from ‘Friends’, not Phoebe from Eight Cousins. I also make up really stupid songs for my cat. If you’re laughing now and wondering how a 34-year-old woman manages to … Continue reading
In which he continues his musical adventures.
Of course he’s Peter Criss. Who else could he be? Drums seemed a little too badass, though, so he gets a toy drum and the triangle. . . and now … Continue reading
But his knees don’t hate him.
So this happened a few weeks ago at intermission of a friend’s concert, when the people I was sitting with and I randomly started discussing all the things that are … Continue reading
Eep.
So yesterday started off slow — I was going to go to my parents’ house, do laundry, visit Skippy the Cat and (if she’d let me) Meg the Grumpy … Continue reading
Tiny ink dots, in my wine, make it taste like ink. . . never mind.
Although he is feeling a little scattered lately. Ba-dum-ching. Seriously, brace yourselves — there’s a slew of art history-related owls a-comin’, because I am on a leetle bit of a … Continue reading
In a hideous dress, dyed shoes, and a floppy hat.
So here’s another chance to share random stories. I’ve been trying for a while now to convince somebody to get married at Chuck-E Cheese’s, because I don’t know why. Just … Continue reading
wigglewigglewigglewigglewiggle yeah. He works out.
And now that’s in your head. Sorry.
When I finally learn to ride a bike, it will probably be with this level of bravado and daring.
Apparently there’s a big sporty-type-thingy today, so here:
Manic Pixie Otter is slightly less confused, since she loves Puppybowl. . . . although she may have misunderstood the whole body painting thing.
Neurotic Owl 