I’m the worst friend in the whole world, but THANK YOU Seanan for getting this to me! It’s beautiful, just like you. I’ll miss you so much. Have the best adventures in Seattle and I can’t wait to visit you soon. #pullip #princessserenity #sailormoon
Yay she didn’t wind up in a box and traveling with me to Washington!
Wait-what!? You’ve moved to Seattle? Like…just up the road from Oly?
Please excuse me, I need to squee somewhere quiet for a minute.
people who complain about dinosaurs “not being scary anymore” because its been discovered they have feathers and are closely related to/ancestors of birds are so bizarre like
its not about how scary they are, they are/were real life animals and what matters is learning more about them, not how well they fit into your science fiction horror film lol
can you imagine a 13 foot chicken running at you with full intent to eat you??? thats fucking terrifying holy shit
peacocks are synonymous with vain, frivolous beauty and they will attack cars. they will attack you while you try to get to your car. they’re like six feet of useless feathers and they will destroy you. imagine if they were carnivorous and had functional spurs.
a t-rex could look like a gay disco ball and i guarantee that you would fucking book it if it had a problem with you
listen
listen
have you ever met a swan
if anything the birdier they get the scarier they are
At some point in the last few years doing Official Banking Things went from making me feel like I was a twelve year old playing dress up and for some reason getting away with it to making me feel more competent and responsible and in-control.
It probably has something to do with the mortage. Not so much that after a mortgage, everything else seems like peanuts, but because I spent years expecting someone to say “Shit, we didn’t mean to let you buy this house! You’re a kid! It was a joke! It’s all a big mistake, we can’t believe you thought it was real, you have a month to move to a shitty apartment.”
It’s now been almost seven years of that not happening, so it’s starting to sink in that maybe, just maybe, I’m a Grown Up where these things are concerned.
Or, y’know, everyone else is just as secretly bewildered inside as me. That’s likely, too.
I wonder if becoming an adult is about reaching the point when trying to do something financial or bureaucratic is more “oh god, this again”, as opposed to just “oh god” (my former reaction to these things).
But I still deeply want to get a copy of the white label Punk-a-wallah’s remix of Desi on the Streets of Calcutta. I heard it once on Radio 1 – then ran home and downloaded the show and saved that segment, thinking (foolishly) I’d just buy a copy of it on vinyl. Then I discovered it’s a whitelabel remix. Then I found out how hard it is to get hold of.
I’ve wanted it for 10 years, and I’m aware it’s going to remain an unscratchable itch.
The only copy I’ve ever seen is my own. And I’ve looked.
