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Joined 2 years ago
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Cake day: August 26th, 2023

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  • I’ve also yet to be hit with a piss jar! Hooray! Some interesting jars, from the years when I was still tempted to open them, was a shreik that shattered just about everything fragile in a 50 foot radius, including my ear drums (still dealing with that tinnitus), and another jar spilled out some sort of abomination spider-crabs, which ate all our food and vomited it right back up quicker than our reaction time, whilst chanting something about hating their mother. I’d kill for some lemons, though, the stores have been out of stock of decent citrus.

    I’ve really enjoyed having our bad feelings singularity. I’ve been mercilessly unhappy for so long, it fits right in with our style, and having it stare back makes me feel less alone, without the intrusion of another person. It’s ominous hum is great for sleeping, too, automatic blackhole noise machine!


  • I suggest burying them in the ground! That’s what we did with all the jars that kept hitting me, when we ran out of room in the house - it didn’t help me being hit in the face with newly appearing jars, but we haven’t had to do any lawn care in ages, on account of the backyard collapsing into an ominously humming black abyss. Plus, now we have somewhere to cleanly toss them, rather than precarious stacks to the guest room ceiling!








  • Oh, Tom Kitten. You’re not an illustration I thought I’d see today. Or maybe ever again. Beatrix Potter, and all those (probably far grittier than I remember) children’s tales were a big part of the lovely escape from my mother’s overbearing…everything. I used to have a cutely styled Tom Kitten toy wearing his same blue outfit, and every time I’m in that gorram old house back home, I try to find him, cause I loved him and he was the absolute softest mofo, but he was lost and put away when mom decided I was suddenly not allowed stuffed animals to be seen out in the open or some shite. Though one evening buying Walmart wine, I discovered those god awfully popular Squishmallow toys feel similarly soft, and now a small toy corgi named Reginald is an apt substitute for necessary comfort. Thanks for the memories, OP. What an odd rollercoaster for the evening. 😺 Uh…carry on, friends.