In one of my best photos 10 years ago I vaguely looked like Lana Parilla, so that would be awesome. Realistically, someone fat.
In one of my best photos 10 years ago I vaguely looked like Lana Parilla, so that would be awesome. Realistically, someone fat.
If nothing else, my family. I don’t have a good sense of the future or life goals, so I keep myself moving by setting small goals. Plans to bake something, working on a painting, just little things around the home.
Thank you. I can’t get certified humane eggs for less than $4, and I live in a low-cost-of-living area. I’m willing to pay more for them.
Their families will be fine. They will just go out of state, or out of country if need be. The poor will suffer. So it goes.
Because you don’t want your voters to have to think about nuanced issues. You want them to react with pure emotion.
Strong Bad said it best: “It’s like, even when we win, he wins.”
50F is the perfect temperature.
I’m baking sourdough tomorrow.
Onions. I can’t eat them raw without feeling gross after, but pickled red onions aren’t overpowering.
For US news, I really like readtangle.com.
This is the premise of Johnny Got His Gun, an anti-war novel by Dalton Trumbo.
I would like the option to make it public on my community. I have asked people not to downvote amateur bakers for just trying to improve their skills but some assholes don’t listen.
Still better than Neutral Comatose.
My mom taught me intestinal distress.
Hold my breath while thinking of a soothing song. Alternatively, actively try to hiccup.
But are you Gary?
I’m not even going to try to type the name of this one. It’s Estonia’s contribution to this year’s Eurovision and it makes me happy every time I hear it.
Apparently the chorus translates roughly to “Why no, officer, those are not our drugs.”