The real problem with blocking qualified immigrants from employment is the resulting unannounced visits from my father and the gifts that he bears.
I keep lists of things that strike me as funny. One problem with this is that I always assume that “omg, this is hilarious, OF COURSE I’ll remember the context!” Not true.
It’s been two, maybe three years since Michael and I took our cross-country road trip with the dogs from Seattle to Buffalo and this is all I have to say.
I was going to write probably the best blog post you would have ever read about the online world’s incessant use of the term “hacking,” except it turns out someone at the New Yorker already wrote it (fucker), and it’s pretty good.
Sara Cat wrote this poem about being the master of her own fate (Spoiler: it’s mostly about peeing in my garden)
“Did you ever live in Portland? You look like someone I made out with about 15 years ago.”
I offer you a bit of wisdom: bikini baristas and blowjobs are not appropriate topics for work.
I know that these are not the normal feelings that everyone has about mass transit, mostly because that’s what my therapist tells me.