Holy fuckballs the cats just gave me a fucking heart attack. I was woken by a great clattering as Baron chased Bishop into the room and beneath my bed. Still, black silence for a few moments, then from beneath my bed Bishop started making that horrifying demonic chanting noise. If you know you know.
More often than you know, my sanity is entirely anchored by the way my cats will lean towards my finger when I point at them, go a little cross eyed looking at it, then lean forward and gently touch my fingertip with their little nose.
People who make videos where they hold snacks slightly out of a tiny animal's reach so it has to stand on its tiny little tippy toes deserve more recognition in the mental wellbeing movement
“Yo, who wants to play a party game?” I ask, slamming the dsm-5 on the kitchen table. The first one to get kinda defensive loses.
I've met more than one person with low self esteem caused not by unfavourably comparing themselves to others but by depressing themselves with the gap between the Main Character version of themselves they think they should be and who they actually are. I find these people: tricky.
JK Rowling hasn’t tweeted in 12 days. Give Imane Khelif another gold medal.
The post you were trying to reply to has been deleted. It now persists, like the ephemeral mayfly, only in the dim recollections of those whose gaze rested on the stream at just the right moment, and your lost reply, like an expression of eye or mouth unnoticed, melts back into your heart.
"what is a woman" anyone who gets up to dance when Girls Just Want to Have Fun by Cyndi Lauper comes on. next question
Just seen a headline in one of the papers, saying Boris Johnson is about to publish his memoirs. A good time to remember this superb letter written during the pandemic.
