New flavor. Do not recommend.

Unless you have an insatiable thirst for store-brand cough syrup poured into a melted Slurpee that’s sat in a hot car for five days. Followed by four hours of sweaty jitters, of course.

Also: My office bingo card is as winning as a trump spelling be.

There is an ENDLESSLY amusing hashtag thread on Twitter right now ...

Yup

There is SO. MUCH. TO. UNPACK. HERE.

Where to start?

1. What's the fucking point of this whole rage tweet?
2. There is no hyphen used or implied anywhere in this entire alphabet soup.
3. What the hell is "Liddle" supposed to mean?
4. Is it supposed to be some kind of colloquial abbreviation for "little"?
5. Are you trying to make "Little" happen as your attempt to create yet another puerile, wannabe-demeaning nickname for someone whose superior intelligence you resent?
6. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Colloquial" means "not formal or literary."
7. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Puerile" means "childish or trivial."
8. See: trump
9. See also: trump supporters
10. The standard abbreviation for "little" is "li'l."
11. With an APOSTROPHE.
12. NOT A HYPHEN.
13. HOW DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER THE PROCEDURE FOR WIPING YOUR OWN ASS EVERY DAY?
14. People who graduated reasonably sober from third grade know that you put an apostrophe where letters have been removed in an abbreviation.
15. NOT A HYPHEN.
16. Don't get me started on why "little" isn't abbreviated as "li'l'."
17. "Liddle" is just substituting d's for t's and doesn't require an apostrophe.
18. And it's actually almost beneath your limited intellectual capacities.
19. Which have no bottom.
20. So never mind.
21. Instead of those non-essential apostrophes, however, "Liddle" does require a marriage to a cousin.
22. And griddled possum at the wedding reception.
23. Or maybe grittled.
24. WHY IS THIS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO YOU TO RAGE TWEET ABOUT AT 4:02 AM WHEN YOU'RE LITERALLY BEING IMPEACHED FOR TREASON?
25. DO YOU EVEN FUCKING UNDERSTAND WHAT'S HAPPENING TO YOU?
26. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU DID?
27. DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION?
28. Clearly not.
29. You don't even understand rudimentary punctuation.
30. Note to trump and trump supporters: "Rudimentary" means "limited to basic principles" or "an immature, undeveloped form."
31. And I'm sure the irony is completely lost on you.
32. Because it's not even hyphenated.

Happy first day!

Shoes

Carrtoones

Fun fact: Chaucer is the only class I ever dropped in college. I didn't declare my English major until halfway through my junior year so I had three semester to read approximately 7,004 books, and Chaucer had to be painfully translated from Hobbit language to real language before you could read it and it took TOO MUCH TIME and everyone who tells you it's worth it because it rewards you with stories of saucy Medieval sexiness has obviously never read a way-sexier-than-Chaucer leaflet about chlamydia. I mean chlayemeadiaeaeaea. Translate THAT, Chaucer-lovers!

The N is for Nice Hair

And Nowledge.

Gah!

It’s not even 10:00 and I’ve already tried to take a drink of soda with the can completely backward, described a solid-color polo as “soiled,” killed a wombat with my bare hands, downed emergency doses of Gabapentin and 5-Hour Energy, and lied about killing a wombat with my bare hands. WHAT’S NEXT, SATAN?

I canceled my trip to the pain clinic last week because my headache pain was (and still is!) virtually gone

I decided to keep my ophthalmologist appointment today though because 1) I’m waaaaay overdue for an eye appointment anyway and 2) it took forever to get on the schedule and 3) ophthalmologist is fun to spell. Ophthalmologist! See?

So I’m here and artfully masking the signs for the ladies’ bathroom in my selfie and moments away from getting to tell people that I’m dilated to meet them.

Ophthalmologist!

Flashback Saturday: College Graduation Edition

I guess I had a cute little habit of saying YAY! about situations that met my approval when I was in college. Unfortunately, Mom (who correctly thought YAY! would be fitting sentiment to express over a college graduation) and the cake decorator (who probably didn’t have an advanced degree in spelling) ended up producing a graduation cake that said YEAH in my honor. Which only underscores what the rest of this picture is saying about me. For instance: The glasses. Bigger than my face. Lower than my eyebrows. I’m just a home perm and a cameo brooch away from being Sophia Petrillo. And don’t get me started on the shirt. I’d thought it was one of the coolest shirts EVER when I first found it wadded up on the tumble table at the County Seat. It was red and white, see, but it had blue stuff sewn in to the collar and sleeves (and, inexplicably, that saggy pocket) to make it look like it was LAYERED. It was also probably a small, yet it hung on me like a Mayan burial gown on an immolated corpse. And in any case, the whole look was in direct violation of the contract I signed when they gave me my English degree: no bright colors, no perky smiles, no Sally Jesse Raphaël glasses. And no misspelled pastries.

Or I shall marry the Prince of Whales

Must ... not ... picture ... his ... droopy ... dry ... bosoms ...

Shoebiz.

Alcoholic-o

Achomlishments

Wasn't he the host of The Dating Qame?

Plus NOT QUILTY sounds vaguely homophobic. I find this to be totally rude.

Ways.

Mental Illness Theater

I’m very, VERY busy alphabetizing my dryer lint in order of who has the cutest boyfriend tonight, so I’ll be understandably unable to watch Derp Fuhrer waddle through the indignities of end-stage syphilis as his collective stink of ineptitude, racism and borschtburders wafts across the House chamber like the frothy spittle of married siblings pulled from their confederate bedsheets and forced to think about gays eating cake in the harsh light of day.

But have fun holding down your dinner if for some reason you find value in sitting through the STFU. Or however you spell it.

What's a meta for?

When your super-cute T-shirt HAS A SUPER-CUTE T-SHIRT PRINTED ON IT but it’s TOO BIG TO CAPTURE IN A GYM STEALTHFIE but it gives you a valid opportunity to say META and OTHER CAPITALIZED WORDS and then YOUR REHEARSAL GETS CANCELED so you stick around in the gym an extra half hour to BLAST THE LIVING HELL OUT OF YOUR BICEPS which is MAKING YOUR ARMS ALL SHAKY and TOTALLT MESSIMG UP YOUR TYPINB.

Leg Day in cheap, ill-fitting track pants is more miserable than Melania on Smocking Hamburder Night

I’d like to think my pants are all bunchy in all my uncomfortabunchy zones because of my mighty man quads and cantilevered cantaloupe calves, but it’s really because I was a big Clearance Clarence who was reeled in by the racing stripes. These stupid pants are tailored for cartoon ostrich legs, and they’re literally compromising my manly squats.

But they have pockets!

In other news, my Graffiti Wonder Woman shirt hasn’t sparked a single conversation about which is the definitive cast recording of Sondheim’s Follies. (It’s a tossup for me between the OBC and the Papermill Playhouse. Any other opinion is invalid.)