growlithe-and-company

[growlithe-and-company]

Bro, I forgot the 51 Raid even happened. What a wild time.... Simpler times, for sure.

The Area 51 raid was like, the absolute opposite of Dashcon. Like this was an event that was comically not supposed to work, but you crazy sons of bitches actually managed to show up and just throw an alien-themed party while armed gaurds stood angrily on the sidelines. It was JUST as stupid as the memes said it would be and nobody thought anything would happen

Well done

[growlithe-and-company]

Well, I've made a fun little art piece! Time to find a spot on the wall to hang it up. My first time ever embroidering, don't think it came out too bad!

#embroidery #art #cross stitch #craft #diy #fun

[growlithe-and-company]

All I can say is. What a fuckin year.

Thank fuck for my cats or else I’d have knocked the lights out months ago.

Wish I could tell the people around me how bad it is instead of just shouting into this stupid fucking void of a website. I’m gonna go get drunk for the fourth time this week

[growlithe-and-company]

the hotel has an on demand section called “mood” & these are the moods

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[growlithe-and-company]

I’m gonna apply for a job at Gordon Ramsay new restaurant and I’m gonna get it

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watch until the very end

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[growlithe-and-company]

started from the bottom now we here

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Stuck.

(it’s 2am, and according to your therapist, you have “a whopping case of ADHD”

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Nights like these where the loneliness creeps in

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it’s that easy

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Dormant Predators

[growlithe-and-company]

One of the perks of my job (for a person like me) is that I am often tasked with writing letters that amount to exquisitely formal, meticulously researched “fuck you”s to people that I strongly dislike. I have, in fact, acquired something of a reputation for one particular letter, directed to a man I’ll refer to here as Asshole Bully. The letter in question has been circulated around my entire company. While that two-page letter is remarkable in the sense that I managed to incorporate a “fuck you” in every single sentence, with each sentence containing just a little more “fuck you” than the one preceding it, there’s a particular line I came up with in the final paragraph that is so poetically jam-packed with “fuck you,” that people are still quoting it to me verbatim four months later. They just call it The Letter.

Yesterday at around 3:00 pm, Boss asked me to write another letter to the same Asshole Bully, addressing a related, but significantly more complex issue. It needed to go out to Asshole Bully that same day. I immediately got to work.

At 8:00 pm, just as I was putting the final touches on my five page letter to Asshole Bully, Boss emailed me to make sure that I was okay, and to check the status of the letter. I wrapped up, and I emailed him my draft. “Thanks!” he replied. “I’ll review it.”

Eight minutes later, I received a second email from Boss, which I have screenshotted for posterity:

I had to travel today, so I haven’t been back in the office yet, but I’ve still already heard about The Second Letter from five co-workers.

… I can’t believe I get paid to do this.

[growlithe-and-company]

[growlithe-and-company]

“My husband got involved with a younger woman at work.  I was relaxed about it at first.  He’s thirteen years younger than me, so I thought: ‘Shit happens.’  But then she got pregnant.  Luckily through the divorce process I had the opportunity to take over this shithole place with no heating, which I’ve turned into an art studio. And now I’m living my best life.  Everything is for sale except the pink chandelier and the dog.  Anyone is free to stop by at anytime.  You can eat or drink whatever you want.  All the young people in the neighborhood love me.  I’m the oldest person in our friend group.  Everyone else is in their twenties or thirties.  They call me Queen Mama.  I call them my adopted kids.  I always help them with their school projects and resumes and interviews.  I only ask one thing in return.  Each of them has to teach me one new thing every week: a piece of music, a trend, an idea.  Just so I can stay up to date.  Before you take the photograph, let me go inside and put on some make-up.  We were out until 2 AM last night.” (Amsterdam, The Netherlands)