Ella Umbra, the sashay lady. Throwing shade since forever.
Electricity still doesn't come in pleasant colors. And still — Still! — no one cares.
"Either length witty shade son shall he balls having material believe inquiry tended wisdom?" This was on my licensing test. Looks like I'm getting certified in the right field.
Reference barbarian, reflection refugee, reform school rabbi: The one and only Reginald Wixterhube — that's me!
Saw Dad again, running down the street screaming about something. He never has time to stop and talk anymore now that he's dead.
I did my part — I stayed home and left more room on the street for the other lunatics. They'll thank me later, if they want to, if they can find me. (I'm hiding.)
Have anything worth adding? Then try
sosayseff+snorp@gmail.com
Me? Still hanging by my nuts.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
