Writer, editor, loyal Gear, Quendor historian and Tuesday chanteuse. Not a big fan of the Oxford comma.
This is where I ferret away shiny baubles I find on the internet. Expect a high concentration of the following: media criticism, internet memes, gender identity, video games, menstrual activism, communication technology, needlepoint, flexitarian cuisine, graphic arts, human rights, writing/publishing, Metalocalypse fandom and about a million billion pictures of my cats.
The views expressed here are my own (except where otherwise indicated) and do not reflect the views of my employer, family, friends or kitties.
This is where I ferret away shiny baubles I find on the internet. Expect a high concentration of the following: media criticism, internet memes, gender identity, video games, menstrual activism, communication technology, needlepoint, flexitarian cuisine, graphic arts, human rights, writing/publishing, Metalocalypse fandom and about a million billion pictures of my cats.
The views expressed here are my own (except where otherwise indicated) and do not reflect the views of my employer, family, friends or kitties.
I usually take the bag of litter box goodies out to the trash compactor on my way to work. But when I rolled down the hill today, the compactor was gone.
Not a good time to have a bag of cat shit riding shotgun.
I found it an appropriate home, and I can only hope the person who empties the exterior trash cans at CVS will forgive me.
14th September 2012
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