We pine, but not for the wee pine.
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Headroom? Essential. Because we like big heads.
PRE-NOW
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2007
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February
(72)
- forcibly awakened
- onto something
- zatch
- hjeart hjealth
- valid question
- a lump
- 4πr(sq'd) = hairea
- godka
- l'oscars: red carpet
- the line's right there
- dear cosmos
- khafhist med vámonos
- toilies/tubs ='d terror
- shallow nerds unite
- adulthood
- i rub yew.
- izzard & isolde
- here's looking at you, pants
- comforting thought from margaret atwood
- another lie i tell myself
- mardi gras not cure-all thought to be
- emi, he's going to have to live
- bio-engineering, i click my heels for thee
- gmail is a strange mistress
- lone temptation
- space rock on space rock action
- pirate checklist
- books for dummies book
- ever the romantic
- [bell rings][salivation]
- iheart
- kali ma and i offer you(r) ___
- s & m for witches
- voltron. again.
- hotsexy to toddler self
- obama may be sunshine
- wee pine
- (muscular) universal definition
- no good could come of it
- thought 5:54pm
- disinfect life
- humor is art
- i's luves ma girls
- happy 4pm start to weekend
- love it like it were my own
- good golly, miss molly
- not responsible for my id
- pineappio
- you read me?
- pulling a chain, of sorts
- the humanity
- don't waylay my craycray
- mad skillz
- needles o' fury
- touching, minus the human sacrifice
- shitestorm solution
- maaaaanfred
- woolly mm-mm's
- snoop didgeri-done
- psychologically suspenseful hair
- seesters
- mban, amb i mbiserable
- what people did before photoshop, photoshop'd
- flish flash flush
- two letters
- snark control
- most depressing day of the year: a party
- soft(head)ware
- it's proenza schouler, shhhhh-ouler
- sniffles
- 'lord'
- wormhole afterall
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February
(72)
3 comments:
If you're going to be anonymous, you might as well just say 'ugh.' Ya.
If you come back, please call yourself Anna Tomy.
It's so cute. It makes me very hungry for salad.
Ah. Spanks!
And since I'm, frankly, fairly drunk right now...that reminds me of when we were at dinner once and I got overly absorbed in my salad - or more accurately - pretending my hand/fork was a dinosaur clomping destructively through a forest, and I looked up to three questioning faces, gleeful destructive glimmer still in my eyes, I'm sure. "What're you doing?" I told them. Feelings: awareness of 'should' be feeling isolated, freakish. Actual: m'eh, so I still play with my food. Sue me. It's fun.
Yeah! that the conifer makes you hunger-for...
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