If You Love Something, Publish It, Panic, and Then Delete It
I wrote a post a while back that I really liked at first so I posted it, and then the more I reread it, the more I realized it was a hot flaming stink carcass and I would have been better off scribbling it onto an old Hardy’s receipt and then throwing it in front of a train. Mistakes were made. Lessons were learned. Egos shattered. Files deleted.
Requiem for a Bee
I got stung by my very first bee this year at the tender age of 31. I had spent the previous three decades dealing with bees by flailing my arms maniacally and screaming into the sun, so I felt entirely justified in my lifetime of pathological terror because I now know I have a “very mild” and “unconcerning” and “not worthy of such a big reaction” bee allergy (according to my rather patronizing G.P.)
Things My Cat Hates if I’m to Take Her Screaming for any Indication
Everything. This post had no legs because she hates literally everything. It would have been biblical in length. She is a wedgie cat-sonified.
This is a Post About Poop
This was the title of a document I found on my computer. It was blank. I can only imagine it was supposed to be some kind of pondering about my diagnosis of IBS, which is a condition that more or less reverts you to a newborn baby poop schedule. I spend more time shitting than I do eating. Where is it all even coming from??
Guys, Let’s Talk About Hot Butt
I… I don’t even know. Possibly related to the above. Please don’t reference this in my obituary. I can see my parents recycling it now.