I woke up this morning with a brilliant post idea.
“Finally,” I thought, “something that’ll be hilarious and informative!”
Then I hit my snooze button and went back to sleep, only to have Tragedy strike in the night.
Or vaguely-early morning, which, really, is even more appealing to Tragedy (he likes to sleep in too).
(Of course Tragedy’s a guy – naturally, he’s related to Satan.)
(Everybody related to Satan’s a guy. Like God. And all the other angels.)
(Wait… does Satan’s family reproduce asexually?)
(Guys, I don’t think I can support this sexist system of asexually reproducing angels/Satan anymore.)
(From now on, TRAGEDY’S A WOMAN!)
(Spread the word.)
(Do it for the children.)
(At least the female children.)
(The male children have too much already.)
Somehow, I’ve forgotten my brilliant post.
Which is probably Tragedy trying to discredit me, before I spread the word about his sexist family.
Except I remember it had something to do with taxidermy.
Or becoming a professional assassin.
But thanks to Tragedy, you’ll never know.
Unrelatedly, I recently asked a waiter to bring me a small bowl of salt.
Which he thought was totally normal you guys.
Salt always makes me happy.
And then makes me think of Gandhi, which makes me sad.
Salt and I have a complicated relationship,