Happy May Day - May Day - Grace Jones - A View to a Kill -Postcards
@postcardtimemachine
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I came back to work today after one of the worst extended weekends of my life. I walked the mile and a half and was doing ok. Got to my desk, found a load of work that has been piling up, and that was fine. Enough to keep my mind busy all day and then some.
Then the fucking sports radio started, and I literally can feel the stress hardening in my chest around my heart. Like I’m so fucking mad about it and this fuckin guy thinking everyone in the fucking office wants to hear about fucking college sports. Im so fed up with it that today might be the day I lose it.
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The depression Columbo consumption continues.
I found another weird Peter Faulk/princess bride connection. This episode was also directed by Jonathan Demme (not princess bride related, just neat).
In this weird world of upper class, 1970s LA, Grandpa was in some weird shit. I think HE wrote the story he told his kid in the 80s. I’m working on a theory here.
(He previously had to tell some kid that Montoya killed the kid’s father):
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Thinking about you today. I’m sure waking up and starting a day in a new phase was rough.
I’m really sorry for your loss.
Thank you. And yes, this has been a horrible, empty, quiet morning. I cried so hard yesterday I though I was going to give myself an aneurysm, and I’m feeling it today. More crying hasn’t helped, but it’s all there is right now. This one has hit me harder than I imagined. She was the best dog I’ve ever known and this doesn’t feel real. Death is such an impossibly permanent thing and I wasn’t ready.
Thank you. 🩵
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She’s just so… not here.
And that’s so not right.
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This isn’t fair.
I want my dog.
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Today was not a good day.
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My door dash from Taco Bell just showed up and the paper bag smells like weed.
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I spring-cleaned the porch for us this morning.
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My mom texted me “a friend of mine is getting rid of an enameled cuisinart cast iron pan. It has a lid. She wants it to go to a good home.”
Me “IM THAT GOOD HOME”
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I spring-cleaned the porch for us this morning.
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I’m lonelier than I think I’ve ever been.
Looking at Facebook for the first time in weeks (months??) was a pretty fucking stupid idea.
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And then some
I’m so fucking sad I can barely handle it.
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I’m so fucking sad I can barely handle it.
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When a post of mine that’s at least a week old gets 10 or so likes in one morning by a buncha randos I don’t know, that lets me know that post has been featured somewhere since I don’t allow reblogs.
Which… (tumblr are you listening?) makes me go back to that post and mark it private or just delete it.
This place is just a journal for me. I don’t care about likes or reblogs or notes, and honestly if something does get too much attention, it’s annoying. So whatever “orbit” or whatever I sometimes end up in… I don’t want it.
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If someone had walked into my workplace just now, they’d have seen me and the receptionist each with one arm out of our long sleeves and hiking up our t-shirt sleeves to show each other our flower tattoos.
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