Whenever I do something silly & lame, such as dress my kitty up for St. Patrick’s Day, people tell me that I need to get a job.
Dudes, I’m so sick of that response. It’s only the 1,000th time I’ve heard it — and I don’t need a job. I’m like this in real life. Maybe we have nothing in common and we should stop being friends. I’m sorry that my life isn’t more interesting or compelling. I’m sorry that we’re not talking about logical fallacies, the influence of Gothic architecture on post-modern cityscapes, or the relevance of Magna Carta and the lack of due process in the American judicial system.
We can talk about the hermeneutics of feminist theology, but I’d prefer to talk about Scrubby.