The slip of your skin makes me feel
like spilt milk on the floor
and caught between your fingers.

how I long
to be
out in the cold.
All I want is to be told
that I am good.

The fire is warm. I nestle
into the dirty blanket,
and picture the mites crawling into my hair

painting by numbers
and hands telling ages, and how my life line
is a good long life line

and this is a death. It is
so loud,
but no one is around to hear it.

—  otter song | ishani jasmin
God, why have you forsaken me? WHY?!

♫Girl, you’ll be a woman soon,
Soon, you’ll need a man♫

I just…

I can’t…

It’s too ooky. It makes my skin crawl.

If she had just sprung up fully formed like with an adult body, I’d be like, “Cool. God has a sister and she’s hot for Dean.”

But no. No! They had her possess a human baby that we saw grow up, and then they made ongoing references to her being a child, including that song, while also posing her as the love interest for a grown man.

I don’t know if I have enough liquor for this.


New Tattoo Makes Sweet Music

Tattoos are all about self-expression, and now one artist has taken that body modification to an extra sensory dimension: A new project allows the musically inclined to make music from their bicep body art.

The project, called “Reading my Body” was created by Russian visual artist Dmitry Morozov. The project uses rail-mounted sensors that crawl across the skin to read a tattoo that resembles a chunky barcode. The “notes” and instructions for the sensors are inked into flesh.

Luckily, the sensors can move on their own or be controlled manually, meaning each tattoo isn’t limited to just one score, Ubergizmo reported. So even though the tattoo may be forever, anyone getting inked won’t be forced to listen to the same song for the rest of their life.

The Baby-sitting Chronicles: Ducks, Kisses and Basic Brunettes

Find the other Baby-Sitting Chronicles here.



That was the key.

Handling a toddler required a lot of patience, energy and a bunch of negotiating skills.

So, the first thing Felicity had done when she had woken up that Thursday was coming up with a plan. She had reached her limits concerning Frozen and the idea of hearing that bloody song one more time was making her skin crawl. But banishing a two-year-old’s favorite Disney movie wasn’t exactly an easy task. She needed distraction. She needed a strategy.

She needed… a picnic in the park.

Which was the sole reason why she went grocery shopping at 9AM.

She was pushing her cart in the vegetables section when she froze, catching her reflection in a mirror. Messy bun on top of her head, old t-shirt, enough food to feed an army.

Oh my God. I look like a soccer mom.

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