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ghost in the house: GET OUT. I WILL TAKE YOU-

real estate agent: chill, its me.

ghost: oh hey. have you sold it yet.

real estate agent: obviously NOT, idiot.

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If you figure out where to procure this package of items please share with the class

not to be dramatic but i need a nap, a hug, 20k in cash, and to disappear for 3 months

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My preferred trope is the devil stealing a farmer’s wife only to have her beat him (the devil) senseless, at which point he returns her.

Damn straight we’re not putting up with the devil’s shit around these parts.

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Perhaps when evolution made the human brain register “cute, must protect”, it went a little broad with the category settings

Ploop ploop ploop

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I wrote about dumping desks and information architecture: theinterconnected.net/kirabug/d…

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I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I was when I realized that you spend a couple years in a college dorm building and it all goes downhill from there.

ideal living situation is what i call the 'sitcom special' : having all your closest friends live in the same apartment building or neighborhood where you each have your own space but can wander in and out of eachothers homes at will, seemingly always welcome and never at bad times. and also all of you only have jobs when its important to the plot.

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I’m interested already and I don’t even know who’s doing the flirting

My guy is out here flirting with his girl by talking about echidna penises why is he like this

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Doctors are like: ughhhhh. You're confusing. Come back if you die

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Where does @tkingfisher ‘s Paladins series fit into this theory?

The Dungeons & Dragons paladin is objectively the funniest class because at first glance it seems like an artefact of an earlier age of the fantasy genre for which contemporary inspirations are thin on the ground, but then you dig into its thematic core and realise there are contemporary popular media characters who almost perfectly fit the mould, but like 80% of them are deeply unwell teenage lesbians.

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If you want a hydra with multiple heads, rescue is really the way to go. We’ve got hydras with three, four, six, and eight heads all ready to adopt right now, for just the adoption fee and the neuter/spay fee. Sure. they’re all a little older than a kit, but our foster parents ensure every hydra is house trained and monster trained before it leaves.

We have some tougher cases we’re working on right now that could use your funding. Tammy and Edmund here were both part of a fighting ring, which is why Edmund has 32 heads and Tammy 64. As you can see, up at those numbers they start to fight among themselves. We need your generous donations of XXS muzzles (90), blankets, toys, and hydra chow. You can pay using any of the methods on the next page. If we work hard we can get Tammy adopted out by Christmas.

well yeah i have a pet hydra and it only has one head. i'm not going to cut its head off just to make it look cooler, you asshole. that's seriously unethical. and i'm not letting you cut its head off either. if you really want a hydra with multiple heads, you should go for a rescue- but if you want your pet to look cooler at the cost of its physical health, maybe you shouldn't get any kind of pet at all. no, the hydra's not for guarding my evil tower, it's my pet. have you ever heard of a pet? like a puppy or a kitty? you think i can't defend my evil tower by my self?

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You caused problems. You caused problems at weddings, at funerals, at state dinners, ribbon-cuttings, anniversary events, holiday bazaars, street fairs, state fairs, parades, baptisms, cultural events, court proceedings, arrests, protests, parties, fire hall inaugurations, fireworks shows, extravaganzas, farm shows, museum openings, ship christenings, film festivals, beer festivals, national pie day, eating contests, cheese-rolling events, harvest balls, comic conventions, dance recitals, traditional dance competitions, pottery making classes, mud-diving contests, Highland Games, sheep throwing contests, football matches, cricket matches, greased-pig wrestling matches, beauty pageants, castle tours, rain festivals, equinox celebrations, solstice celebrations, tomato fights, dueling banjo competitions, barbecue competitions, snake milking competitions, Day of the Dead celebrations, snowball fights, lantern festivals, fire worship festivals, pancake eating festivals, jam making parties, maple syrup parties, apple peeling parties, celebrations of various saints, food deliveries, grocery deliveries, shipments from the tax collectors in the poor sectors, dog contests, llama and alpaca yarn festivals, flea markets, mail deliveries, weather forecasts, lawn mowing, apple picking, sheep shearing, sheepdog training, castle septic system repairs, winter ice castle festivals, royal army appointments, pretzel festivals, cupcake throwing fights, and the annual gathering of Evil Witches Local 313.

(Especially the annual gathering of Evil Witches Local 313. To your evil stepmother’s absolute horror the union makes you an honorary member due to your chaos gremlin qualities alone.)

Just as you were getting kind of bored of the “my stepmother is evil so I go around town with a butcher’s knife in my beak and stab people I hate in the Achilles heel” routine, a black swan appeared in the castle courtyard.

You recognized Zeus, God of Thunder right away, but most didn’t. Most just saw two swans.

The unfortunate saw two live swans and one ghost: the decapitated remains of the last swan to live at the castle. Henrietta was cruelly beheaded by the king when he was in his teen years, and every year or so Zeus, Henrietta’s on-again off-again amor came back to the castle to stir up some trouble and terrify others. Beheading a swan was bad luck, and in this case that bad luck manifested as a pissed off Greek god with a long memory.

“You don’t mind if I have a turn, do you love?” Zeus asked you not long after you arrived.

Most of Zeus’s pranks were harmless in the “nobody died” variety but painful and difficult to endure. Boils. Burns. Scratchy skin. Animals that took up lame. Crops that withered in their stalks. Children who wouldn’t sleep and workers who couldn’t keep their eyes open.

You watched his (somewhat bland but very effective) curses land for about two days and you called him over.

“So uh this curse thing. Tell me about it again?”

“I wished your now-father, now-king not a single moment of peace or rest until his death.”

“That seems a bit excessive,” I complained. “He might have married a good stepwife instead of an evil one if you hadn’t cursed him.”

“Ah, but I cursed her as well for laughing at the king’s inability to deal with the haunting. I cursed her to marry him… Her avarice and greed are all hers though.”

“So you cursed both of them and then one of them cursed me, and now I’m stuck as a swan.

“A very angry swan I hear”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“If I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

You thought about the years of trouble making you have left. You thought about all the ways a god could come in handy helping you cause havoc. You thought about your father’s misery and your step-mother’s cold-hearted behavior.

You turned to Zeus. “You know, I think we could make beautiful honking music together, Zeus. Want to go cause some trouble?”

You are a princess. Your evil witch stepmother turns you into a swan. Instead of running away to mope around in a lake and be beautifully tragic, you decide to stick around the palace and cause problems on purpose.

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@epersonae horror monsters for you, friend

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🎶Oh Adelaide Adelaide ever lovin’ Adelaide is takin’ a chance you’ll pee…🎶

#ThingsISaidToTheDogsToday

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Which one is closest to yours? Mine is like 6ish-7ish.

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I was a white kid in the suburbs. I remember being told that the MOVE people were dirty, and pooped out their windows instead of using toilets, so you had to be careful if you were in the city to look out for falling poop. I was told they had cut holes in the floors of their houses so that if they were raided by the police (always the good guys in the stories I heard) the police would fall through the holes all the way to the basement.

I wasn’t told any of the actual story of the MOVE movement, and I don’t think my family or teachers were either to be honest. Obviously I was raised in a pretty racist environment but it didn’t feel racist. I had black friends at school and my parents were friends with their parents.

But that’s the problem with racism. It can make you forget you’re talking about real people. You forget that Ramona Africa was a pre-law student at Temple before her home was bombes. You forget it was only 15 years after the civil rights movement. As Ramona says in the linked article, you don’t make the connection between the history books and actual people until you meet them.

Were they noisy? Were they “dirty”? I didn’t know as a kid and I don’t know now. But I do know we’re the only city I know whose dark humor allows us to joke about being the only city whose black mayor bombed a black community and was reelected.

And I know that it’s one of the things about Philadelphia I’m truly ashamed of.

You ever think about the MOVE bombing and then think about the fact that so few US Americans even know that the MOVE bombing like. Happened.

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Me: If you sleep there you are going to fall off the bed. Myka: [scoots over 1/2 inch]

#ThingsISaidToTheDogsToday