Ah, thanks, I think they may be the perfect accessory for all my repurposed grungy-flapper gear. And when wearing the trousers: My hatbands and buttonholes may never be the same again.
This is me waiting for the work day to end so I can take this effing wig off and learn more Java
This is where they pumped me full of 3.5 liters of saline some morning this week. I really don't know which day. It was an adventure in screaming pain and people yelling at me for not asking for help. I hear there was also a lot of sleeping and some fantastic lentil soup.
Other signs of the apocalypse: -sunny skies in Seattle in "Fall" -basically being caught up with my online communications -also wearing pink. Though it's a shirt that says "Meat is Murder. Tasty, tasty murder"