Slipping Him Bread


In spite of the gross scary sticker on our door and the obviously dangerous meth ghosts, we are endeavoring to settle in to both this house and our new city. 


Thing One: St. Louis is a beautiful city with literally everything we could ask for including friendly people.

Thing Two: We are still 100% dependent on GPS.



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The GPS Strategem


Some marriages rot from within – I’ve seen it happen, due to lack of communication or fundamental conflict of values, deep underlying resentments – some are sabotaged by “friends” or family members who honestly believe they’re working in the best interests of one or both parties.


I have come to the conclusion that there is a GPS conspiracy, hard at work against my marriage.


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On His Best Behavior


I’m working from the library again today.  I like writing in libraries and bookstores, surrounded by literally all the words; genius and mediocrity, all of it poured out on the page and bound up in that sacred form… so many hopes and dreams realized, and some truly great writers who – at least, this is what I tell myself so that I can sleep at night – never lived up to their own standards.


Libraries are a bit nicer, though, because I don’t feel pressured to buy anything.[1]


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Not Pony Tails or Cotton Tails


Well, dear devoted followers, it is done.


Not Dishonored 2, I spent twenty goddamned hours trying to ghost my way through one mission (you’ll know it if you’ve been there) and then tried to peel my own face off when I saw my Final Stats screen reporting that two bodies had been found.  I am still debating whether to lodge a formal complaint about that, because it’s bullshit.  There’s no way any of those bodies were found.  No.  Fucking.  Way.  Someone would have had to have been moving furniture, and that’s just not a thing that underpaid guards who have muttered arguments with themselves over whether they know the whole alphabet do on their nightly rounds of a creepy-ass mansion.   Basically, if any of you happen to know someone at Bethesda, let them know that I’m looking for them, that I want answers, and that I know a good hiding spot with room for another twenty or thirty bodies, easy.

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