Procrastination bric-a-brac
Because I don’t want to do my nightly copy-editing, you get to read the banal contents of my mind.
Things found in bios
These e-thots on Twitter are ubiquitous. Every day I have to block 15 digital doxies promising me that I’ll find parts of their anatomy on their bio page. Will no one rid me of these turbulent hoes?
If those knocks don’t have googly eyes or some visual indicator of being unbalanced I want my money back.
Free or best offer
Anyone want a well-used but still functional homosexuality? This model was made in the 70s so it’s built of quality materials that can take a pounding. It’s just too tedious anymore and needs re-homed.
Pining for hospice
I told my therapist today I can’t wait to be on hospice because that means I’d soon be dead and I won’t have to see any more of this crap they keep pushing down the pike. This bloody country is already unrecognizable. Doesn’t a terminal benzodiazepine addiction sound nicer?
Current mental soundtrack
Billy Joel’s “Just the way you are” is stuck in my head. And now in yours, too.
Fun with AI
From image prompt “retarded brassiere.”
Your new classic drag name is
Banda Soleil
Stupid
Salt doesn’t need a grinder. It’s not pepper. The salt isn’t “fresher inside.” It has no essential oils to release on crushing. Do you even know what a mineral is?
Would you finish this post?
That’s a dear; thank you.
Possible finisher thoughts:
1. My grandmother (the one based on Joan Crawford) pronounced the word “banal” to rhyme with “anal.” We couldn’t get her to stop.
2. Billy Joel wrote “I don’t want clever conversation” in “Just the Way You Are”
…*and called it a love song.* This has never set right with me. “Set right” is another thing my grandmother used to say.
3. You can return vintage homosexuality for store credit and pick up a knitting habit in exchange, maybe.
No, I have The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald in my head and you can’t stop me.