GeorgeGlass

In my 2013 Phineas and Ferb fanfic “Candace’s Perfect Body,” there’s a scene wherein Dr. Doofenshmirtz captures Perry the Platypus by trapping him inside a wool sweater and then using a huge blow dryer on it to make the sweater shrink around him. Tonight, I watched an episode of the recently revived Phineas and Ferb in which Doofenshmirtz traps Perry exactly that way. 
I’d love to think that the writers got the idea from me, but honestly, they’ve used so many different Perry-traps over the years that this coincidence seems like a statistical inevitability.

Checking in on all the rest of y’all in the range of Snowmageddon 2026. (Basically, the southern half of the US, northeast downward, half the Midwest, etc.) Everyone doing okay out there?
It’s freezing here in southwest Missouri with snow on the ground, but our neighborhood hasn’t lost power...yet. Tomorrow is supposed to be round two of this nonsense. Cold’s vehicle doesn’t handle cold well, so he’s bundling up like he’s bound for the arctic and walking to work. Heiferlump, meanwhile, is determined to crawl inside my skin to sap all the warmth from my corpse, and let me tell you, that cat has cold toes. Those toes are also equipped with unfailing nipple-seeking stomping hardware, and I have the bruises to prove it. Naturally, I’ve held her up to the window circle-of-life style a few times so she can cuss out starlings on the feeder. 
Everybody, stay warm out there!

In my 2013 Phineas and Ferb fanfic “Candace’s Perfect Body,” there’s a scene wherein Dr. Doofenshmirtz captures Perry the Platypus by trapping him inside a wool sweater and then using a huge blow dryer on it to make the sweater shrink around him. Tonight, I watched an episode of the recently revived Phineas and Ferb in which Doofenshmirtz traps Perry exactly that way. 
I’d love to think that the writers got the idea from me, but honestly, they’ve used so many different Perry-traps over the years that this coincidence seems like a statistical inevitability.

In my 2013 Phineas and Ferb fanfic “Candace’s Perfect Body,” there’s a scene wherein Dr. Doofenshmirtz captures Perry the Platypus by trapping him inside a wool sweater and then using a huge blow dryer on it to make the sweater shrink around him. Tonight, I watched an episode of the recently revived Phineas and Ferb in which Doofenshmirtz traps Perry exactly that way. 
I’d love to think that the writers got the idea from me, but honestly, they’ve used so many different Perry-traps over the years that this coincidence seems like a statistical inevitability.

In my 2013 Phineas and Ferb fanfic “Candace’s Perfect Body,” there’s a scene wherein Dr. Doofenshmirtz captures Perry the Platypus by trapping him inside a wool sweater and then using a huge blow dryer on it to make the sweater shrink around him. Tonight, I watched an episode of the recently revived Phineas and Ferb in which Doofenshmirtz traps Perry exactly that way. 
I’d love to think that the writers got the idea from me, but honestly, they’ve used so many different Perry-traps over the years that this coincidence seems like a statistical inevitability.

So, getting some running around done, so I don’t have to deal with the chickens and the snow….
Ye gods...you’d think they never saw the stuff before. 🤣

When I say, “The world would work better if women were in charge,” I mean just about anyone but me. Why? First fact: It’s “my job” to make sure that all the lights are off and doors are locked when we go to bed because my husband will zombie walk right past a door that is standing open. Second fact: we go to bed when the sun is still up and wake up after dark so customers of my husband’s store can panic-buy their milk, eggs, and bread at the crack of dawn. This means when I check the back door, I get blinded by sunlight through the kitchen window if I’m up too late.
Well, a few minutes ago, I flipped the switch on my way out of the room, but the light only got brighter. I spent probably about a minute and a half squinting at the glowing boob-light, wondering what sort of black magic electrical fuckery I was in for now, and contemplating what a sledgehammer would do to the fugly glass shade. Then…it hit me, just like a sledgehammer.
Y’all. I just tried to turn off the sun. With a light switch. And got pissy when flipping the switch just made the room brighter. So, yeah. Just about any woman except me. I would do my level best only to get knocked down by a barrage of blonde moments. I’d attempt to bring about real, needed legal, societal, and economic change. Instead, I’d get hung up on ridiculous things like declaring boob-lights and whining electric cords illegal and enacting laws decreeing that pets are taxable dependents and people can be considered pets if they’re not fully housebroken. The world would burn.
 

Happy New Year from NYC, and good riddance to 2025…  🎉🍾
(As a friend said last night, he’s giving 2025 zero stars on Yelp—does not recommend)

Happy New Year to everyone on the Gregorian calendar!
Just happy to be here to everyone else!

This year has just started, and it can already can go straight to hell and stay there. We’ve lost our little guy. Woozle. My sweet orange mama’s boy. He’s gone. Fuck cancer, fuck losing cats, fuck death, and fuck this year. Woozle didn’t deserve this.

Pro tip: When it comes to burying bodies, remember to call 811 before you dig!   

For all of us who celebrate, may the light return after this longest night. Solstice Blessings!
🌅

Happy Birthday!

Winter Holiday 2025 is UP! 

It’s the holiday season again. Celebratory times down in the village. The lights are up, the tinsel’s out, Old Tup and his fellows are a’roaming for beer money. Locals keep thanking me for ensuring the sun will come back over the next few years. Not really sure what they mean, but as I’ve been invited to be guest of honour at the seven yearly village feast I’ll put up with the local turns of phrase. Last feast was just before I moved here, actually. Oddly enough, the guy who rented Blot Cottage before me was guest of honour then. Poor guy tripped and fell on a “flint knapped biface”,whatever that is, up Ritual Rock on the moor where they have the feast, I heard, so it became available at a great price. I hope you all have a nice time as well! Seasons greetings to all of you!

The people who leave negative reviews on e-books reporting sex scenes are my heroes. It’s easy enough to filter in smut when you’re reading fanfiction, but the e-book writers get coy about it in their descriptions. If not for sex-averse reviewers, we’d risk reading a “spicy book” that never passes first base, get clam-shelled over the lack of smut, and have to go start a fight with our husbands or something. ...not that I’m speaking from experience, or anything. 
But yeah. Someone left a squicked one-star review on a book I was considering. Granted, the review was just the word “sex” written three times – like they’re starring in a demonic possession porno or something - and shoop, there the book went. Right into my cart. I hope it’s filthy. People like that are heroes.

This just in: some school districts in the US are banning books about cats. Apparently, somebody needs to have a chat with the administration and tell them those books “aren’t about that kind of pussy.” 

What I said: “7 oz can of chipotles in adobo.”
What the phone heard: “7 oz can of Chipotles in a dildo.” 
Even my grocery list is not safe.

The great thing about writing Star Trek fanfic is that there’s almost nothing canon about Vulcan and Orion genitalia, so you can pretty much make their bits work however you want.

The great thing about writing Star Trek fanfic is that there’s almost nothing canon about Vulcan and Orion genitalia, so you can pretty much make their bits work however you want.

The great thing about writing Star Trek fanfic is that there’s almost nothing canon about Vulcan and Orion genitalia, so you can pretty much make their bits work however you want.

The great thing about writing Star Trek fanfic is that there’s almost nothing canon about Vulcan and Orion genitalia, so you can pretty much make their bits work however you want.

What I said: “7 oz can of chipotles in adobo.”
What the phone heard: “7 oz can of Chipotles in a dildo.” 
Even my grocery list is not safe.

What I said: “7 oz can of chipotles in adobo.”
What the phone heard: “7 oz can of Chipotles in a dildo.” 
Even my grocery list is not safe.

What I said: “7 oz can of chipotles in adobo.”
What the phone heard: “7 oz can of Chipotles in a dildo.” 
Even my grocery list is not safe.