Over Winter Break I saw the greatest Christmas light display ever. On the fence
of this one house, someone had spelled out, in lights, “HO.” Not “HO HO HO.”
Just “HO.” Either Santa’s getting less talkative or some naughty kid thought
they could get presents after all by whoring themselves out … which might not
be a bad idea. Why stop at milk and cookies?
It would be inappropriate for me to now make some tasteless joke about Santa and
chimneys.
Tuesday’s forecast: “MERRY.” Merry indeed
"+"
“dusty rusty crusty musty ass california hills”
“frowning in plaid (haunted radios, bird bones + anthropomorphized wind)”
“warming my hands on bridges i’ve burnt”
“songs that make me see god”
“My Playlist #236”
“classy wine moment and intellectual conversation”
“90s heroin chic model off duty”
“tweet tweet bird emoji map emoji”
“not my circus, not my monkeys”
“a grave is probably cheaper than an apartment”
“ATE THESE BITCHES LEFT NO CRUMBS / DID IT IN DESIGNER PUMPS”
