Just a reminder that guillotines have no carbon footprint and are easily recyclable.
Yes, I should have mentioned this is a great uncle of mine who stole a dog out of Rolls Royce in New York and brought it back to Chicago. He was a real scoundrel. And it was a Puli, one of those mop dogs that are impossible to maintain. Like, who does that.
Oh some guy emailed my brother about my great uncle possibly being his secret great grandfather and he wants to talk about his research. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for something like this! Every time I hear about someone finding out about a secret branch of their family tree I am like, TELL. ME. EVERYTHING.
I was feeling somewhat homicidal before and it is honestly amazing how a little chocolate chip muffin improved my mood to slightly miffed. Like, yes I’m on an SSRI, but a girl needs a treat.
There is a large rock with a dip in the middle on the path outside my window. Anyway, I noticed a few weeks ago that someone has been placing birdseed in the dip but today I saw it happen! Mystery solved. What a thrill.
A pattern of racketeering activity is defined as committing at least two underlying crimes defined in the law—in Trump’s case, the indictment lists false statements, impersonating a public officer, forgery, filing false documents, influencing witnesses, solicitation of violation of oath by a public officer, election interference, computer trespass, conspiracy to defraud the state and perjury.
Hope that helps! Happy RICO day!
I was looking at all the MS DOS games on that emulator site and there are SO many. I honestly had no idea. I’m realizing now that I was only allowed to have educational games, lol. I just thought I was having fun! But apparently I could have been having MORE fun without learning.
Ashley just had a baby. She’s sitting on the couch in a relative’s apartment in Clarksdale, Miss., wearing camo-print leggings and fiddling with the plastic hospital bracelets still on her wrists. It’s August and pushing 90 degrees, which means the brown patterned curtains are drawn, the air conditioner is on high, and the room feels like a hiding place. Peanut, the baby boy she delivered two days earlier, is asleep in a car seat at her feet, dressed in a little blue outfit. Ashley is surrounded by family, but nobody is smiling. One relative silently eats lunch in the kitchen, her two siblings stare glumly at their phones, and her mother, Regina, watches from across the room. Ashley was discharged from the hospital only hours ago, but there are no baby presents or toys in the room, no visible diapers or ointments or bottles. Almost nobody knows that Peanut exists, because almost nobody knew that Ashley was pregnant. She is 13 years old. Soon she’ll start seventh grade.
