Some fine person made a TikTok of the memes. (Warning: The song it’s set to is NSFW.)
I like the poop emoji on the Presidential Seal.
I’d have missed that little gem - thanks for pointing it out.
It’s a sinus thing, (mom, sis, daughter, friend), not COVID. Yes, I’ve taken my temperature. Yes, I still can smell and taste things. I know what sinusitis feels like, remember that whole ‘chronic problem’ thing? No, I will not go see a doctor. Go away and leave me to my misery, please and thank you.
Sounds like work…I’ve been there over 13 years, and you would think people would have noticed that I have strong reactions (mostly sneezing, sometimes coughing) to heavy aerosols, yet I’m regarded with suspicion every time I have a sneezing fit in response to a coworker hosing the place down with Lysol.
My fucking dog. Bob. He’s too smart for my own good.
Here’s the thing … he’s pretty much off leash in the neighborhood. He (usually) never leaves the yard unless I give him the high sign. Today, when I get back from work I let him out in the back yard for a pee and then we head down to our poopy spot at the end of the street. Generally he’ll walk either with me or a few feet in front of me all the way down to the dead-end of the street. Today as soon as we got to the end of the yard he just bolted - right across the street into the neighbor’s yard and back into the woods behind. Fuck! Did i mention it’s pouring rain right now too? So there I go traipsing through neighbors’ yards into woods through ravines up out onto the street again, down to the end of the block, around the corner down the street, back down the other way, screaming “Bob, please come back,” and whistling my fool head off, for like thrity minutes, soaking wet from the rain.
No sign of him whatsoever.
I came back to the house, crying, not sure what I was going to do but to get a dry coat on and go out and keep looking for him. There he was sitting on the couch - dry as a fucking bone, looking at me like I’m an idiot … which I am. I’d left the back door and the kitchen door open and he just came back to get out of the rain while I freaked out like John Cusack in High Fidelity at his girlfriend’s dad’s funeral (deep cut reference).
Fucking Bob. I’m glad he’s okay.
I am also glad that Bob is OK. Pets!
Me too. I’m also glad that you’re ok! Except for the cold, wet and scared spitless, of course. Bob didn’t come out looking for you with a tiny cask of brandy around his neck?
Actually, the couch bit was a bit of poetic license, he was actually sitting in the window where he usually sits if I leave him alone with free run of the place. The stupid part is that if I’d just looked at the window while I was walking up and down the street, I’d have seen him. He was probably wondering what the hell I was doing.
Ha! Had a Luna moment too - put her in the backyard, called her… no Luna. She had jumped into my daughters room for scritches and hugs through Sophia’s open window.
Speaking of poop emojis—-
During the Wisconsin recount they allowed official observers, Many of them were Trumpers that kept bothering the workers. These observers.were given a wristband every day to wear as ID. One day, the wrist band featured a poop emoji.
The county clerk claimed - with a straight face, apparently- that he thought it was chocolate ice cream.
Huh. I heard a couple of years ago that the publisher claims that it IS chocolate ice cream.
That’s what everybody is saying.
Immediately after I posted that list picture, my power went out. It just came back on. Twenty-two straight hours with no electricity. I don’t know how the pioneers did it.
Aw, man! I just logged in to observe that having your Internet access be down for over a day and a half is a real fucking drag (especially this fucking year). At least I did have electricity, though.
An update in the Continuing Saga of Feline GI Issues:
Samantha had another vet visit yesterday. Verdict: they need to do an ultrasound to see if she might be getting Kitty IBD. I had a few choices on this: either take a day off work and drive down to South Carolina (about an hour) or up into Asheville (about half an hour) to the imaging office with a cat who HATES riding in the car protesting vociferously all the way and getting more and more stressed. Or wait until the mobile unit comes to the vet’s office, which is ten minutes from my house where I can drop her off in the morning and pick her up after work. Guess which one I chose.
Today I find out that I have to put up with diarrhea for another three weeks because the mobile unit will be coming to the vet on December 31.
le sigh At least they gave me some kitty gabapentin to calm her down before the appointment.
Awww, poor Samantha! Good luck with her.