My Forrest

 

If you don’t follow me on Instagram you should go fix that right now because I’m not retelling all the same stories and jokes here. And I’m certainly not reposting all the pictures.*

 

But if you found your way here from Instagram?** Welcome, and I promise not to I’ll try not to scare you off. This, in case you missed the url and the title of the blog, is the place where I talk shit about my husband by faithfully repeating the things he says and letting you laugh at him. You might be thinking there’s not much material there, given that he’s a brilliant engineer who designs the safest mode of travel currently available and caves to flimsy arguments like, “but the dog is already in our house, so you might as well let me keep it” but five years of more-or-less consistent fuckery speaks for itself.

 

Everyone caught up?

 

Good, because I’m actually starting with an update on Offspring.

(Orange is the New Black) Crazy Eyes holding a mop strikes a

 

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My Meth Ghosts

 

Screenshot of Messenger conversation; I complain about ghost stuff and how Husband doesn't believe but Audrey would, Audrey replies, "Science isn't real. Ghosts are."

 

 

You see that shit right there?  THAT is why Audrey is a good friend.

 

Husband, on the other hand, is a jerkface an engineer and keeps arguing this point with me.

 

I’m about to invite every single one of you over so you can walk around this house and feel how fucking haunted it is.*  Because Husband is full of explanations for everything: I hear voices because of dog toys or the neighbors’ stereos, and I’m not used to the reflective properties of all this brick and tile after our last house (admittedly 80% wood) and I’m just scaring myself… blah, blah, blah.

 

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I’d Rather Have a Springbok

 

We are here, you will recall, to discuss The Bug issue. 

looping gif, endless parade of giant beetles marches by

 

Well, not “discuss” in the traditional format, obviously; you are there and I am here and there’s a temporal disconnect as well.  More “discuss” in the book club sense; I’ll tell you a story, and then maybe we’ll have a discussion question at the end.  Won’t that be fun?

 

Shut up, it’s better than working.  And if you’re not reading on your employer’s time it’s not my fault.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

We’re STILL the Worst

 

My brain, normally full of ferrets, is now filled with pinching, angry crabs all screaming the same thing.

 

“YOU’RE GOING TO BE HOMELESS IN A STRANGE CITY!”

masses of red crabs marching across the sand and forest in their annual migration

“You know what the problem is?  You’re too picky!  And you’re looking on the wrong sites!  And you haven’t tried ALL the paid services!  Oh, you’d better check zillow again—it’s been almost five minutes!”

 

Fucking brain crabs. 

 

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I Brought the GOOD Cupcakes

 

My friend Audrey is awesome and kind and forgiving… and completely intolerant of people moving away from her.

 

She’s also intolerant of a particular shirt I own, but we’ll get to that later.  The point is, she’s made reference several times to the fact that people who move away (and are therefore neither seen nor heard from again) are “dead to her.” 

(Parks & Rec) Leslie Knope saying "Wow, okay, well, you know what we had a good run but he's dead to me now."

Actual footage.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!