Some say that squirrels are the harbingers of doom. This fella’s ironic mustache seems to support that argument.
Author Archives: Robin
Sometimes Monday Is All Weird And Stuff
This One’s For You, Mom
Pain, or…
Nine Days And Getting Worse
My mom is gone.
How can I stand it?
She was not ready. She had things to do. I had things to tell her.
It just gets more awful.
WTF.
No please. Make this nonsense not be.
And The Righteous Shall Hop
Sink
(She had a dream the other night that she lived in a city in a little apartment 2 or 3 flights up and had a nice life all to herself)
(Last week she looked at the program guide, just to see what was on network TV during prime time because she is out of touch these day; she did not watch though)
(She had a dream the other night that Oprah was talking to her about how frustrating it is, life with a Stedman)
(She is not difficult, she could be happy enough)
(She has a dream that one day her life could become more interesting than her dreams once again)
(Above all, these days, to keep the peace is her aim, it seems)
Feh
Bah. Nobody’s home.
NOMUSTACHEFORYOU
PHHHHFFFFFFTTTTTT.
Finger Sandwiches, or…
The Mind Tool
Beachcomber fluoresces
With the light of a thousand
Unitard-toting unicorns.
Fluorescing yes / sparkling no.
Why?
Because the unitard is
Not the weapon of choice.
Canned pseudo-meat is
Where it’s at.
And where it’s at
Is also
Hoboken.
Twain invented chortling
There.
Not at Woodstock.
That would be
Ridiculous.
Chaaaaaa.