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Shroomiememes - Blog Posts
if you’ve ever wondered how I look in real life, consider this:
Shaggy from Scooby-Doo, but with redder hair, blue eyes, a slightly more feminine body, and hates dogs. Cats are superior.
GUYS. MOOSEN.
Moosen. Is that the plural of moose? Whatever.
Moosen are FREAKY. Like, 7 feet tall, huge horns, CARniVOReS?! WhAT?
When you see an elk and you go: Oh, a large deer! That’s an elk. But when you see an elk and go: DEAR LORD, IT’S AN ELDRITCH HORROR FROM THE DAWN OF TIME, that is a fear-instilling, utterly terrifying MOOSE.
It looks like an orc should be riding to battle on them. “Ride, Bullwinkle, ride! Lead me to GloRiouS victory!”
What the heck. You can’t tell me there’s not a God, ‘cause nothing else is creative and crafty enough to keep these things alive for this long.
yet another post abt my mom
My mother used to attend Trinity University in Chicago, Illinois. In her last semester living there, she and her roomate, Michelle, decided to break all (most of) the rules.
One of these rules was "Do not steal."
So, she and her friend decided to be ridiculous. They brought my mom's Honda Accord to the campus, grabbed a bench, put it in the car, and drove away.
To this day, we still have that bench. It sat on my front porch until last night, when my mom and I were coming back to that house to get my supplies for fending off Satan's Waterfall. She was reminiscing, and decided to 'steal' the bench from my dad.
She put it in the backseat. I didn't even notice it. So this morning/afternoon/idk, she tells me this story, and shows me the bench, sitting on my grandparents' front patio.
I'm not sure how to feel, honestly. I'm conflicted between finding it hilarious and being impressed.
So, we’re dogsitting my aunt’s miniature poodle-something-or-other. Here’s a conversation my sister had with her this morning.
Dog: *Barks loud af at the window*
Sister: Dido, don’t be racist.
Now I don’t speak dog, but there’s two explanations for this. 1, my nine-year-old sister can speak to dogs, or 8, and slightly more plausible, there was a black or otherwise culturally different person walking down the sidewalk.
I’m choosing to believe that my little feral cat of a gremlin sister can speak dog.