I’ve overslept two days in a row and showed up at work in basically pajamas both times, I was up all night with cramps, and there was an asshole on the train this morning who was eyeing either the hijabi standing next to me or the butch girl on my other side and I spent the entire ride putting myself between him and them and making direct eye contact when he muttered about whatever the fuck, because absolutely not today, satan
but the day after tomorrow I’m going to make a beautiful thanksgiving spread with my girlfriend and my best friend: wine and fancy meats and cheeses and jams and homemade bread and pie and borcht, and we’re going to hang out and watch a bunch of pretty dogs be Good Boys on tv and be grateful for what we have and the people we love in the tiniest, best thanksgiving I can imagine.
Rose looked around the mess of boxes piled in the living
room of her new flat, trying to suppress the panic that the thought of
unpacking all of them brought. What had she been thinking, moving halfway
around the world on her own? Her stepfather had offered to help her out, get
her a job and a flat in London with his connections, but Rose had said no,
feeling that she had to do something with her life on her own.
Now she had a dingy studio apartment in New York that she
could only afford because of Pete’s parting gift, no friends on the same
continent as her, no job, and an overwhelming amount of boxes stacked in front
Guiltily, Rose grabbed the lighter and pack of cigarettes
from her purse and climbed out the window to stand on the fire escape. She’d
told everyone back home that she’d quit months back, and she had, but it seemed
the stress of moving had her picking up bad habits again.
Rose took the first drag and felt the nicotine hit her
system as the smoke burned down her throat, familiar in its slight discomfort.
Her eyes slammed shut as she took a second drag. She could practically feel the
stress floating away with the tendrils of smoke.
“You know those could kill you, right?” A voice from above
Rose’s eyes slammed open and she looked up, trying to locate
who was talking to her. A man in a battered leather jacket was lounging on the
next landing up, back against the railing and lit cigarette dangling from his
For whatever reason, these guys don’t seem super popular with the collecting community! I see people saying they look like kittens, instead of ponies; but because I grew up with them, I thought they were the cutest, tiniest, most best babies ever! I love their little chubby legs, and their little tiny muzzles! (But I’m not biased! ;))
What do you guys think? Teeny Tiny Ponies, yea or nay? Do you own any? Do you want to?