her: ice cream is just for kids

me, a principled communist: ice cream is a sweet treat that everyone enjoys

my new years resolution is 480x640. Gettig smaller

I often refer to my bottle-raised lamb as my adopted daughter, because it’s mostly true, it temporarily keeps nosy strangers from knowing I’m an eeeevil childfree woman, and it’s hilarious when people find out. And by that time they’re usually too disturbed by the “her-daughter-is-a-sheep” thing to get on my case about the “woman-with-no-husband-or-kids-oh-the-horror” thing.

Most of my friends are aware that I do this, and will back me up in conversations without batting an eye when I reference my daughter. And the best part is that they literally never drop the story. They just 100% all the time accept that I have a two-year-old adopted daughter. The fact that she happens to be a sheep is an unimportant detail, not worth mentioning until an anecdote gets too weird to plausibly be about a human toddler.

Which actually takes much longer than you’d think, since human toddlers apparently have absolutely zero sense. “She bites if you stop paying attention to her” is believable, “she tries to eat rocks out of the landscaping” is believable, “she stuck her head through a fence and couldn’t get out” is believable. “She jumped a five foot fence and came screaming back into the house through the dog door when I left her outside in the pasture” does get some strange looks, though usually not for the right reason.

Occasionally the joke gets turned around on me, though. I posted a picture on my not-tumblr blog of her wearing my glasses, and every comment was “Oh my gosh she looks just like you!!!” “I would never have known she was adopted If you hadn’t told me!!” “Are you sure that’s not an old picture of you?!”

So apparently this is what I look like:

At least she does look cute in glasses.

So do you think the small town girl living in a lonely world ever tried gay stuff with the uptown girl living in her uptown world

Anatomy of a robin.

james and the giant pronoun

the amount of times i have found myself explaining to kids that the reason they are experiencing burnout is because they are trying to self-teach themselves how to draw by skipping fundamentals and going straight into trying to force a "style", getting frustrated when they don't understand the techniques in which the style is grounded, and refusing to engage in workshops or other settings in which they can receive peer feedback is unreal.

it's like they're trying to bake a cake based on photos of cakes and don't understand why guessing the measurements isn't producing a cake that looks like one baked by someone who used a cookbook. and then saying they're burnt out from cooking. no shit. open a cookbook.

NOAH WYLE as DR. JOHN CARTER in ER (1994-2009) | S7E02 “Sand and Water” (2000)

endless gifs of Carter bc I think he’s pretty 24/∞

most tragic thing is I cannot. for the life of me. say rivarly. how do you pronounce it. where do the letters go. ri-var-ly? no. rai-vai-rly? rai-va-ly? help.

One day it's gonna be like "Ben Affleck and Matt Damon come clean about romantic relationship" and we'll all still be like "which could mean nothing"

i went to bittersweet nostalgia island and everyone was listening to bears in trees

i love being at the devil's sacrament all my friends are there

loving the little game ilya plays where he provokes shane into being vulnerable and then it backfires on him

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