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One of my favorite genres of post

Are fedoras really that bad?

YES YES THEY ARE

OHHHHH. MY. F U C K I N G. GOD.

I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.

I just traded my neighbour a jar of raw honey for his parakeet’s corpse.

It is also worth noting that the only reason I have so much raw honey is because I made a dress for a beekeeper’s daughter.

And that I need the parakeet bones to make a necklace for the woman who fixed my antique cello.

And that I got the cello as payment for juggling at a child’s birthday party.

When did my life get this weird?

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