The Rantings Of a Funnelcake lover

one time i went up to my friend (also my coworker) and gave him hug from behind and just like held him there for a moment and our one regular client walked in and was like “huh….so are you guys like….winnie the pooh and piglet?” and i lost my fucking mind. what does that mean. i also said yes and that i was pooh.

me and this coworker are now dating and the same client client came into today and was like “sooo winnie the pooh and piglet?” again so we asked him what he meant and apparently those were the only two male fictional characters he could think of that hug

winnie the pooh heritage post

Writer's Guild of America voted to strike, good for them

It’s always “why did you commit regicide” and “your covered in blood” and never How was the treason The treason looked fun was it fun

i love you dykery i love you faggotry i love you homosexuality i love you transsexualism i love you vulgarity i love you filth

white girl wednesday

God he’s so hot

pollen allergies really fucking me in the ass this year

pollen allergies really busting fat loads down my throat this year

i wish i was born 129 years ago so i could die at the age of 16 from the common cold and not read this

why is miss piggy the greatest celebrity of all time. legitimately

i see pictures of her and i'm like that's who i need to be when i grow up

why does she live a better life than us

i believe she is real and one day i will find her

i have three responses to "how is your writing going"

1) it's not

2) it's going

3) i am ENTHUSED. i have been BLESSED with the POWER of the MUSES. i am an UNSTOPPABLE FORCE OF CREATION i am the MOST ULTIMATE OF ALL WRITERS

If you all haven't heard about it yet: https://ratethelandlord.org/

when the media uses phrases like “the union is demanding higher pay” they want you to think hey wait i wish i got paid better you’re telling me these whiny writers are refusing to work? i’m way worse off than them and i still go in to work every day!

they want you to stop there and stew in your resentment instead of following the logic forward to hey maybe if i had a union i would have better pay!

and they say stuff like “working conditions” for the same reason because they know it conjures the image of a sweatshop or something and you’re like well that’s absurd writers work in offices how bad could it be they don’t have “working conditions”

they want you to stop there and stew in your resentment because you also work in an office instead of thinking about what the word “conditions” means and whether you are allowed to take off work to be with your newborn child

don’t be fooled by this shit. don’t buy into the idea that people work in any field solely for the love of the game yes even when it’s a literal game (writers work on those too). work is work! money can be exchanged for goods and services!

smitten

Not "I always knew I was different", not "I thought it was normal", but a secret third thing: it never occurred to me to think about whether it was normal until I was forced to, usually in a cruel way

I can’t get over this little girl…..pretending to be long dead while someone digs up her body out of the ground. The jewelry laid out beside her…the hair clips….this is everything

I LOVE this she’s not even pretending to be an archaeologist she’s pretending she’s the long-dead mummified remains of a Celtic princess who’s been excavated by an archaeologist I’m living for it

being in the pool while it’s raining should be considered an emotion

that emotion is called Being A Frog

(me, my parents, my sister, and the baby are sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch)

baby, pointing at the light fixture over the table and signing "on": o.*

my sister: we actually can't turn that light on right now, because the lightbulb inside is burnt out! it needs a new one.

baby: ighbu.

sister: yes, lightbulb! granddaddy said after we eat he's going to climb up there on a ladder and change it, and then the light will come on!

baby: gadada! adda, uuu! ighbu o!

sister: exactly!

baby, signing "on" and pointing at the light and then my dad, with increasing urgency: GADADA ADDA UUUU. O.

my sister: we're going to finish eating first though, ok?

baby: nonono. O. gadada adda uuu.

[a split second goes by]

baby, pointing to himself: ba. adda uuu. ighbu.

me: you're going to climb the ladder and change the lightbulb yourself?

baby: dzyeah. *pointing to the buckle where he is buckled into the high chair* ububu.

me: unbuckle you? so you can change the lightbulb?

baby, highly businesslike: dzyeah.

*pronounced like "on" without the n

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