It is the Editor’s birthday. But I’m not really supposed to blog about the Editor because I might slip and write something inappropriate again. Profess my undying love, for example. So just nevermind I mentioned his birthday.
For April Fool’s I hilariously took a pack of address labels he received from Amnesty International (secular humanist alert!) and stuck them all over his things. He was pretty mad. The one he found on the seat of his pants just before leaving the house actually got me in trouble. So I can’t blog about that either.
I also can’t tell you don’t worry about him being Aries and me being Scorpio, because I’m Aries moon and he’s Scorpio moon so we cancel each other out or something. Kind of like cross- multiplication. Bucause we don’t believe that astrology malarkey here in the Owl House! Rationalism, yo. Linearity. Sciiii-ence.
Monday I stooped to the slur of calling him a "flatlander." Again out of bounds.
Now off to LaBrea to shop and brunch with old friends and shop some more. I mostly hate buying shit. Except I love taking him shopping. It is the best. For later, we rented a season of MacGuyver from The Video Story Named Desire. I'm not kidding.
Links. I might stop doing this for a while, so maybe there will be less reason for these frivolous Saturday blogs altogether:
â— The best blog in the universe is back as of April 1. Fafblog. Political satire (esp. re: War on Tara) since 1993. Maybe the fact that Hillary still hasn’t figured it out drew the Faf back from the dead. The comments are the best part, but I’ll be restraining myself to the RSS.
â— How? Like this. I’m sorry: it’s not forever. I just have to use this prop for a while in order to get myself re-aligned.
â— Trite and true. This was something I liked when I skimmed the RSS this morning [via]. Self help is not my genre. If you have these principles on hand (or, um, a yoga practice), you don’t need it.
Bye!
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