The Mouse Hole
Welcome to the mouse hole, ladies, gents and other persons. I'd call it a shrine to Lisa Frank, but Lisa Frank actually had taste.

On this blog you will find a variety of shit, such as but never limited to: fandom, cursing, video games, movies, critical analysis of all the above, and the occasional doodle.

Warning: Resident blogger is a rare breed of filthy Texan democratic-socialist, very queer, very here, and not going to shut up about any of it. Opinions will be had, arguments will be basted in hot sauce, and gifs will be posted.
When you genuinely can’t remember if something is fanon or canon.

We’ve had like one damn day of reasonably cool weather and my skin decides it’s going to start the whole cracking and bleeding shit.  wunderbar.

I really hate days where I can’t seem to get out of my own head for five minutes.

Fuck, I need a vacation from me.

The amount of people I’m waiting for email replies from is just stupid.

I really, really wish I could get this job done without them. But nope.

when you’re having a terrible goddamn week and then FINALLY do something right

What these past two days have taught me:

  • I hate cement.
  • A water hose will only produce boiling (literally, it sizzled) hot water after a long sunny day.
  • Sun block, sun block, sun block
  • I fucking hate cement
  • Holy shit i am so out of shape what the fuck.  i used to be able to lift so much more than this!
  • Did I mention I hate cement?
That awkward moment…

when a straight woman uses the term “girlfriend” to describe her platonic friend, rendering you momentarily surprised and delighted, then bummed when you realize that, yes, you are still alone in a crowd of straight people. 

Today I managed to get lost on my way to my Job #2.  I’ve been living in this city for…shit, seven years.  Seven freaking years. 

There’s this guy who’s started coming around the office a few times a week looking for any scrap we might be throwing out.  He’s an older, rather talkative, god-fearin’-country-boy sort, and constantly reeks of alcohol.

I kind of wish he didn’t set off my creepy radar so badly; he seems harmless enough.  Maybe it’s just how often he tells me “god bless ya, darlin’ ” in a single conversation (5’s the record so far).  Or maybe I’m just being a socially anxious freak, idek.