So I hear the world's ending on May 21.

That is my favorite Tom Lehrer song, by the way. Surprise!

Seriously, though, I know the world is going to end on May 21 because a billboard told me. It seems the creepy preacher from the Poltergeist movies is predicting the end of the world to come on May 21.

Frankly, I'm more terrified of the first Poltergeist, but then you would be, too, if you first saw it when you yourself were a little blond girl with a clown doll and a tree outside your bedroom window.

I'll tell you right now, though -- if I look out the living room window on May 21 and see the end of the world approaching down Main Street, my last act on this earth will be to post the PDFs of The Monsters Of Moosic and Heroine Addiction to Amazon. I REGRET NOTHING. \o/

Good morning, Mama.

Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.
Mama.

... I'm kinda hungry.

EDIT: Also, because I have literally no money whatsoever until payday and I'm out of dry cat food, my mom told me to just come up and take some yesterday. I came straight home instead last night, and this morning I got a phone call.

Mom: You know, I left you a plastic bag of dry cat food on the kitchen counter yesterday.
Me: Oh, sorry, I'll come up later --
Mom: So the other cats got to it.
Me: ...
Mom: Well, I rebagged it all and I put it outside so they couldn't get at it again --
Me: ...
Mom: Honestly, I don't know why they did it, it's the same food they have in their own dish --
Me: *giggles finally breach politely-stifled level and move into BWAHAHAHAHAHA level*

You know what's morbidly amusing?

Imagining the sweat dripping off the forehead of the Yahoo employee who's currently deleting the crap out of the comments on the OMG! story about Norma McCorvey (you know, the "Roe" in "Roe v. Wade") featuring in an anti-choice movie.

Somebody keep me off Blogspot.

The 33-Year-Old Virgin

Maybe this time I'll actually keep it up, not the least of which because Android has a Blogger app.

I feel as though telling you guys it's NSFW is redundant.

There's something the two of them have in common, but I can't quite put my finger on it ...

Bobby Jindal releases birth certificate

Three thoughts:

1. Oh, I'm sorry. Did I say "birth certificate"? Because it turns out Louisiana issued him a "certificate of live birth."

2. Oh, I think somebody's running for president.

3. NEITHER ONE OF THEM SHOULD HAVE FUCKING HAD TO, JESUS H. CHRISTMAS PUDDING POPS.

So ... uh.

You know how a while ago I mentioned that my Android's Kindle is full of gay bonded shapeshifter erotica and a few people were all, "Ooo, tell me more!" and I ... think I may have kinda forgot because I got distracted by something shiny?

Well, guess who just killed an hour going through her phone and adding every book on there and even a few that aren't onto my Amazon Associates store, which is conveniently linked in the "About Me" section of the virgin blog?

I think if I found a post-apocalyptic zombie-fighting Regency-era m/m/m bonded-shapeshifters erotica novel, my brain would officially collapse under the weight of all of my kinks in one place.