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 found this list on my work laptop.

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)

Magnum Pug wrote this poem about barking at the moon.

I’ve been chewing my fingernails my whole life.

Sometimes Michael and I drink at home.

I’m getting increasingly frustrated with all the stupidity of my job that just happens to be piling up all at once. It’s curious how heavy nothing can feel.

Fro-Yo by the pound is an opportunity to simultaneously take control of your day and lose all self-control.