sept 25 in idea barrages

The smell of garden hose baking in the heat, half the stale water bubbling up within, half cheap rubber gassing-off in temperatures it can’t fully sustain. The smell of summer, but in that bad way, the smell of humidity that makes you want to crawl in a cave and die.

This cat got some of his stitches out today and also has figured out how to leap with only his backlegs now, up to the top of the dishwasher for treats, so the dog can’t get them.

You know what’d be a fun movie? GLENDANZIG GLEN ROSS.

Most movies aren’t so bad that you remember a scene the next morning and briefly assume it was from a disjointed nightmare you’d just had but FAT GUY GOES NUTZOID is not most movies, thank God.

Tim Burton’s uncanny sense of horror understood the way you use the unconscious mind to really terrify, making the aliens in MARS ATTACKS go “ack-ack-ack-ack” filling our minds with the instinctive recoil we’ve all formed to hearing Billy Joel’s “Movin’ Out”, making us HATE them.

Ollie the dog is so fat, his little back legs shiver under his weight when he squats to poo. Unless, of course, he is faking that to get sympathy treats, something I wouldn’t put past the manipulative little bugger.

If you hug yourself to death, that’s auto-platonic-asphyxiation.

I mean, you understand that Trump stumbles and fumbles during appearances specifically because he knows you all will glom onto talking about that as it is easy laughs as opposed to his daily shredding of our rights, yes? It’s not a bug, it’s a feature.