I’ll be damned if one asshole preacher is going to keep me away from singing Messiah this year.
They say that no good deed goes unpunished.
Someone made the mistake of asking P.J. why she isn’t a Christian.
Finally getting around to clearing out paperwork yielded found treasure.
Meat tastes like meat and beets taste like potting soil.
It’s a peculiar manifestation of my attachment disorder.
I took a closer look in the hopes of defending my lemming status.
Shit just got real in the nest.
The best starlight.
The man walking into the grocery store tipped his head toward Jane as she went past him with her chin up, out the door and toward her car, proud with…