#Life post

[surrah698]

Change... 😳

[thotsforvillainrights]

Anyone wanna see the 5 pics of me from the con? Bout the 2nd time I've ever gone without cosplaying. Maybe next year I'll get back on track

[grabyoursaintsandpray]

Didn't think I'd be spending my night playing hedgehog nurse but here we are. The poor thing was in a crater my dog had dug to get at it clinging onto some leaves for dear life and absolutely covered in mud and debris.

When it was still there a few minutes later, I thought I'd better bring it inside to check for damage.

Exhibit A) Grumpy lil dirty hedgehog.

Got it some water and natural meat dog treats (absolutely no milk products, lactose intolerant lil guys) cleaned it off and it was totally fine and happily zipping around.

Put it back where I found it and it dashed off into the undergrowth. A very polite house guest and a very stern telling off for my dog.

[onbearfeet]

Fuuuuuck I think I'm getting sick.

*crawls into blanket nest with monsters, bears, and wollufs*

Send tea and fanfics.

[wordsoup420]

I think the kitten is learning to wag his tail from the dogs

[leam1983]

"Assume" makes an ass out of U and me...

It's the dead of summer, which for me equals Sweaty Toes Season. It also means Foot Fungus Alert Season, too. Athlete's Foot loves me like Jerry Lee Lewis loved his cousin, and it's as creepy as it sounds.

So, I'm at the drugstore yesterday, after my shift, and notice that the only stock of clotrimazole left is in the "pink aisle", to uncharitably refer to women's health products. Seeing as the same thing that handles yeast infections absolutely chews through Athlete's Foot, I pick up a tube and drop by the counter. The kid at the register is maybe eighteen at best, and she gives me an odd look.

"Is there something wrong?" I ask.

She shrugs, trying to play off her surprise - and her slight disgust. "Nothing; it's just that you're sort of young to be using a walker - and that's women's stuff."

I smile with teeth. "I see. Well, the uncharitable answer to both questions would have to be 'Nunya', but I could also mention that there's no molecular difference between general antifungal and clotrimazole cream that's specifically marketed for the treatment of yeast infections. It's the same thing, just packaged in two different tubes - with the Pink Tax applying for the second one."

She blinks. "You're not a doctor, how do you know?"

I blink back. "How do you know I'm not a doctor? Should I look like Hugh Laurie and pack a cane instead of a walker?"

The poor kid is in the weeds. "So... You're a doctor?"

My smile widens. "No, actually. Now is the part where you ask me what Nunya is."

"What's Nunya?"

"Nunya Business. And I'll be paying with debit, thanks."

[sunfishsquid]

Geez, see you guys in a bit 🏃💨

[froggychair05]

Ngl Froggy, I'm interested on how you met your gf? Is it okay to ask?

Very short version, we met at school! We had a few classes together and we got really close, at first because we had some common interests and then because we just understood each other really well. Things just kept going from there and now here we are, still going strong. I love her a lot 🥰

[elle-rph]

I’ll be fine, I just gotta scream into the void for a second

[allegedly-human-uwu]

Favourite part of sending memes to my bf:

[help-itrappedmyself]

Do any of you ever get the sick urge to capitalize numbers? It never works, pisses me off every time.

[fallstaticexit]

Celebrating 9 years with my wife tonight 🌹 fun fact: 9 years ago in a McDonald’s parking lot it took me an entire 30 minutes to actually ask her to be my girlfriend 😭 I was a wreck omg soo nervous. She was standing there waiting like🧍🏻‍♀️

[back1nt1me]

Lifepost 💎🔊

[obimaulartfire]

Sometimes when I'm at work my brain autofills my words with whatever I'm thinking about at the time. This is how I almost answered the phone with "Hello, this is Book of Boba Fett! :)"

I DID mentally correct myself, but can you imagine

[onbearfeet]

I have acquired a boysenberry plant, and thereby a lot of feelings.

I grew up picking boysenberries at my grandparents' place every summer. Grandma had somehow gotten cuttings off Walter Knott (of Knott's Berry Farm fame--no, I still don't know how, no one ever found out, she just DID THINGS LIKE THAT) and planted them all over a rambling terraced slope behind the garage. Every summer, the grandkids (mostly me, after a while, as the youngest female and therefore lowest in the family hierarchy) would go out back with a bucket and get stabbed a whole bunch and come inside with fruit and maybe some exciting new injuries. (Thorns like needles. Juice the color of blood.)

The taste of boysenberries is something I'm often asked to describe, and the approximate answer is "bite into a raspberry and a blackberry at the same time, and you'll mostly have it." But it's more than that. It's the taste of long summer evenings, of hiding out back with a book and eating yourself sick, of Grandma serving you an extra-big slice of cobbler because she noticed your brothers being shitty to you and food is how Depression-era farm kids express love. It's the taste of belonging somewhere that will never exist again.

Anyway, this plant is about to be the most spoiled, pampered little thorn-monster you've ever seen.