People love consuming the arts, but many hate the training required to create the arts. Not every art degree is created equal, but the connections you make and the experience you gain can be invaluable.

I'm not saying every artist needs a college degree for every aspect of creating art, but art is not always created solely by performers.

Perhaps there is an actor who was self taught and got a lucky break, but the cinematographer capturing that actor needed years of training. They are literally camera scientists AND visual artists.

Maybe that punk band you love only knows four chords and just screams into a microphone, but the sound engineer recording their music probably has a college degree.

Here is a video of the sound engineer for a Hamilton production.

He uses an amazing blend of technical and artistic skills to make sure the show sounds perfect during every performance.

Check out his college degree...

Any other theater nerds in the house?

Penguins walking at 5x speed.

Birdwatching is a shared pastime between cats and humans, though with different motivations.

[ Reddit ]

Chairs won't be installed until...

This joke didn't technically reach the note threshold I usually go by to promote to my main blog, but I love it so much that I don't care.

Officially reached 1 year of mortgage payments on my GoFundMe. This should pretty much guarantee I can stay in my house as long as I desire.

I honestly don't know what else to say besides thank you.

I hope my parents are smiling down from doggie heaven knowing I'm gonna be okay.

Now I think I am going to sleep for a week.

Help Save the FrogFamily Home

This community I’ve built has been so incredibly generous to me over the years. Part of me feels I don’t deserve to ask for another thing. But I am facing desperation and I don’t know what else to do.

I’ve had a rough couple of years. First, my beloved corgi, Otis, passed away. Then my mom’s health took a turn. I had to take care of her all on my own. And eventually, COVID took her from me. Then my dad’s body began to fail him. I had to be his full-time caretaker. I had to watch his body and mind slowly deteriorate until he finally passed away in March.

I wish I could just take some time to mourn my parents and heal my soul…

But life decided against that.

We tried to make plans so that I would be taken care of after my father’s death. That I would be able to stay in our family home for as long as I desired. But those plans are falling apart at the moment.

Lawyers and probate and debt collectors, oh my.

There is a chance we can get everything sorted, but all indicators show that it could take a while before that happens. Possibly a long while. And my disability payments aren’t even enough to cover the mortgage–much less all the other bills and expenses.

I need to buy time.

Literally.

I need to extend my financial runway long enough to get things sorted. The longer that runway, the better the chances are I can figure all of this out.

I need time to sell all of my parents’ valuable belongings. I need time to fix up our very large separated garage so I can rent it out as a workshop or storage. I need time to fix up the house so it is suitable for a roommate. And I need time to work with social security so I can possibly find financial independence for life.

Unfortunately, without that time, I could face homelessness. I’m sure I could find a place to stay for a while, but I would lose the only home I’ve ever known. The home my mom and dad spent a lifetime fixing up and perfecting. The place in this world I feel most safe and comfortable.

I’ve already lost so much recently. I’m not sure I could bear losing my home as well.

If I lost my home I’d probably have to live on couches for up to two years until government housing was available. And then I’d have to spend the rest of my days in a small single room apartment. I know there are people who would feel lucky to have that, but I’d really prefer to stay in my house if possible. And I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting that. Especially when all I need to make that happen is a little time.

So I am asking all of you to help buy me some time.

Every $1200 equals another month I have to sort things out. I honestly don’t know how much time I need. I would hope 3 to 6 months would be enough. But the wheels of bureaucracy can move frustratingly slow. So the more time I have, the better the chances are I can save my home and secure my livelihood.

Thank you so much for reading this.

Check out the GoFundMe page here.

First, I just want to thank everyone immensely for being so generous. Before I posted this fundraiser, my anxiety was telling me that no one would contribute and that I should just start looking for Section 8 housing. Anxiety loves to lie. And it is always so convincing, no matter how outlandish that lie is.

As I refreshed my browser again and again and again, I couldn't believe just how amazing my little community was. I found myself crying each time the amount jumped up.

I originally picked a goal that was the absolute minimum amount I thought I would need to figure all of this out. I was really worried about seeming greedy and asking for too much. But friends and followers have advised me to increase my goal. So I picked the amount that would 100% guarantee I would get to keep the house. I don't want to share all the details publicly (feel free to message if you have questions), but that amount would be 12 months of mortgage payments plus fundraising fees.

I'm not expecting that much. It's totally okay if I don't reach that goal. There is a decent chance I already have what I need to sort things out. But being 100% certain would probably help me get some sleep at night.

I am so grateful for you all. I wish I could hug you all personally, but for now I'll just have to do it digitally.

Just wanted to reblog one more time for the evening folks.

Getting super close to a year of mortgage payments!

I just keep feeling all of these layers of anxiety melting off.

Help Save the FrogFamily Home

This community I’ve built has been so incredibly generous to me over the years. Part of me feels I don’t deserve to ask for another thing. But I am facing desperation and I don’t know what else to do.

I’ve had a rough couple of years. First, my beloved corgi, Otis, passed away. Then my mom’s health took a turn. I had to take care of her all on my own. And eventually, COVID took her from me. Then my dad’s body began to fail him. I had to be his full-time caretaker. I had to watch his body and mind slowly deteriorate until he finally passed away in March.

I wish I could just take some time to mourn my parents and heal my soul…

But life decided against that.

We tried to make plans so that I would be taken care of after my father’s death. That I would be able to stay in our family home for as long as I desired. But those plans are falling apart at the moment.

Lawyers and probate and debt collectors, oh my.

There is a chance we can get everything sorted, but all indicators show that it could take a while before that happens. Possibly a long while. And my disability payments aren’t even enough to cover the mortgage–much less all the other bills and expenses.

I need to buy time.

Literally.

I need to extend my financial runway long enough to get things sorted. The longer that runway, the better the chances are I can figure all of this out.

I need time to sell all of my parents’ valuable belongings. I need time to fix up our very large separated garage so I can rent it out as a workshop or storage. I need time to fix up the house so it is suitable for a roommate. And I need time to work with social security so I can possibly find financial independence for life.

Unfortunately, without that time, I could face homelessness. I’m sure I could find a place to stay for a while, but I would lose the only home I’ve ever known. The home my mom and dad spent a lifetime fixing up and perfecting. The place in this world I feel most safe and comfortable.

I’ve already lost so much recently. I’m not sure I could bear losing my home as well.

If I lost my home I’d probably have to live on couches for up to two years until government housing was available. And then I’d have to spend the rest of my days in a small single room apartment. I know there are people who would feel lucky to have that, but I’d really prefer to stay in my house if possible. And I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting that. Especially when all I need to make that happen is a little time.

So I am asking all of you to help buy me some time.

Every $1200 equals another month I have to sort things out. I honestly don’t know how much time I need. I would hope 3 to 6 months would be enough. But the wheels of bureaucracy can move frustratingly slow. So the more time I have, the better the chances are I can save my home and secure my livelihood.

Thank you so much for reading this.

Check out the GoFundMe page here.

First, I just want to thank everyone immensely for being so generous. Before I posted this fundraiser, my anxiety was telling me that no one would contribute and that I should just start looking for Section 8 housing. Anxiety loves to lie. And it is always so convincing, no matter how outlandish that lie is.

As I refreshed my browser again and again and again, I couldn't believe just how amazing my little community was. I found myself crying each time the amount jumped up.

I originally picked a goal that was the absolute minimum amount I thought I would need to figure all of this out. I was really worried about seeming greedy and asking for too much. But friends and followers have advised me to increase my goal. So I picked the amount that would 100% guarantee I would get to keep the house. I don't want to share all the details publicly (feel free to message if you have questions), but that amount would be 12 months of mortgage payments plus fundraising fees.

I'm not expecting that much. It's totally okay if I don't reach that goal. There is a decent chance I already have what I need to sort things out. But being 100% certain would probably help me get some sleep at night.

I am so grateful for you all. I wish I could hug you all personally, but for now I'll just have to do it digitally.

I just wanted to highlight this beautiful artwork that my good friend, Chis a.k.a. @whosthewhatnow created for me.

This drawing was inspired by this post about my dad and his animal magnetism.

If you don't recall, I said...

"I’ve always said I don’t believe in heaven but I do believe in dog heaven.

It is my hope FrogDad gets special permission to go there and hang with Otis, MacGyver, Reggie, and Buttons."

I also mentioned this in my eulogy...

I said that we had pet newts as children. However, when I went to look up pet newts, none of them looked like what we had. In fact, I couldn't find any lizards that looked like what we had. Perhaps they were some kind of lizard that was a popular pet in the 80s but fell out of favor with pet stores.

In any case, the mystery lizards are sneaking into Doggie Heaven.

And, of course, there is my dad's famous John Deere riding mower that he used to take Otis on countless walks.

And Chris included all of the beloved doggos of my childhood.

My first was a Welsh Corgi named Buttons.

She would walk me more than I walked her...

Then we adopted a Cairn Terrier named Reggie.

Reggie was found at an illegal breeding facility and rescued. He was kept in a cage nearly all of his life and it pained him to walk on hard surfaces for several months until his paws healed. We suspect he was abused by a large male, because he was terrified of my dad when we brought him home. He would run under the bed anytime my dad entered the room. This was probably the ultimate test of my dad's dog whispering powers. He slowly and patiently worked with Reggie, devising all kinds of creative trust exercises. He would lay on the floor with his belly exposed and start crying and acting sad. Trying to show Reggie he was harmless and pathetic and nothing to fear. And every time Reggie got close, my dad would bribe him with cheese.

And just like every other dog we've had, my dad won Reggie over and they became best friends. They were constant cuddle buddies.

No other large male could ever get close to Reggie. My dad ended up being the only one he would ever trust.

We felt Reggie could use a companion to help cure his trauma and depression and maybe help him socialize a little better.

So... we got a puppy!

My first ever experience with a puppy. He was a West Highland White Terrier--commonly referred to as a "Westie."

We wanted a name that paid respect to his Scottish heritage and we loved this popular show on the boob tube in which a man fixed things with chewing gum and a paperclip.

So I suggested we name him after that favorite TV hero...

Angus MacGyver!

Or "Mac" for short.

MacGyver was a bit like Otis 1.0. He was a tiny ball of energy. He loved to play. He was mischievous, but always cute about it, so he rarely got in trouble. Though he was not nearly as smart as Otis. If dogs could take IQ tests, Otis would have tested as a genius. I am embarrassed to admit how often I was outwitted by a hairy loaf with legs.

But MacGyver was just a normie. Not dumb. Not a genius.

Reggie didn't know what to do with a puppy at first. But once Mac grew up a little and calmed down a lot, they did end up being proper pupper pals.

Doggo dudes.

Canine cohorts.

Scottish scalawags.

Reggie mostly just sat at a distance as MacGyver did dumb things. Mac would get into trouble and when we caught him, Reggie would just stare at us like, "I was an impartial observer. I had no part in these shenanigans."

And last, but certainly not least... I think you all remember this troublemaker.

My dad was all cuddles and play time.

But my mom and Otis had a very special relationship as well. Otis would "help" my mom with her chores. They'd go from room to room and my mom would do her cleaning and dusting and vacuuming. And Otis would disrupt all of it--to her delight. She liked to talk to him like he was an adult human. She swore he could understand her. They'd just gab and clean.

Their antics doing chores together inspired one of my favorite Corg Life comics that Chris also drew.

So, thank you to Chris for always creating such beautiful things for me.

If you need any artwork, I highly recommend hiring him. He even does watercolor paintings.

Chris Gugliotti [ Facebook | Instagram | Tumblr ]

*nerd voice* Ackshully, there is much debate about whether Roman crucifixions nailed the hands or the wrists. Experiments on cadavers in the 1930s concluded that a nail through the palm could not support the upper body.

However, nailing the heels in addition to the palms may have been enough to hold up the body. They could have also used rope to add support.

Nailing the palms would have been more painful, so they may have put in the extra work just to make the experience more torturous.

That said, biblical translations of "hand" could also include the wrist. And since Roman soldiers probably did not want bodies falling off the cross prematurely, it would make sense they would choose the more robust nailing location.

So we don't actually know where Jesus' holes are.

It is a hole-y mystery.

If you put Jesus in a box, the holes will be in his wrists and his hands simultaneously due to quantum superposition.

Help Save the FrogFamily Home

This community I’ve built has been so incredibly generous to me over the years. Part of me feels I don’t deserve to ask for another thing. But I am facing desperation and I don’t know what else to do.

I’ve had a rough couple of years. First, my beloved corgi, Otis, passed away. Then my mom’s health took a turn. I had to take care of her all on my own. And eventually, COVID took her from me. Then my dad’s body began to fail him. I had to be his full-time caretaker. I had to watch his body and mind slowly deteriorate until he finally passed away in March.

I wish I could just take some time to mourn my parents and heal my soul…

But life decided against that.

We tried to make plans so that I would be taken care of after my father’s death. That I would be able to stay in our family home for as long as I desired. But those plans are falling apart at the moment.

Lawyers and probate and debt collectors, oh my.

There is a chance we can get everything sorted, but all indicators show that it could take a while before that happens. Possibly a long while. And my disability payments aren’t even enough to cover the mortgage–much less all the other bills and expenses.

I need to buy time.

Literally.

I need to extend my financial runway long enough to get things sorted. The longer that runway, the better the chances are I can figure all of this out.

I need time to sell all of my parents’ valuable belongings. I need time to fix up our very large separated garage so I can rent it out as a workshop or storage. I need time to fix up the house so it is suitable for a roommate. And I need time to work with social security so I can possibly find financial independence for life.

Unfortunately, without that time, I could face homelessness. I’m sure I could find a place to stay for a while, but I would lose the only home I’ve ever known. The home my mom and dad spent a lifetime fixing up and perfecting. The place in this world I feel most safe and comfortable.

I’ve already lost so much recently. I’m not sure I could bear losing my home as well.

If I lost my home I’d probably have to live on couches for up to two years until government housing was available. And then I’d have to spend the rest of my days in a small single room apartment. I know there are people who would feel lucky to have that, but I’d really prefer to stay in my house if possible. And I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting that. Especially when all I need to make that happen is a little time.

So I am asking all of you to help buy me some time.

Every $1200 equals another month I have to sort things out. I honestly don’t know how much time I need. I would hope 3 to 6 months would be enough. But the wheels of bureaucracy can move frustratingly slow. So the more time I have, the better the chances are I can save my home and secure my livelihood.

Thank you so much for reading this.

Check out the GoFundMe page here.

(Turn on sound.)

I promise this is not a skit. This is an earnest attempt to sell "Real Women of Politics" koozies by Sarah Huckabee Sanders.

Republicans aren't funny unless they are unintentionally funny.

Then they are goddamn hilarious.

That is some quality blue checkmark discourse right there.

The lyrics...

So called facts are fraud They want us to allege and pledge And bow down to their God Lost the culture, the culture lost Spun our minds and through time Ignorance has taken over Yo, we gotta take the power back!

What they heard...

Yo, we gotta take the power back!

Sometimes I will think about all those alternative rock songs that I grew up with in the 90s and finally say, "What the hell did the lyrics mean? What was a machinehead?"

And then I look it up and it's heroin.

Always heroin.

Grunge bands deserve an award for most incomprehensible metaphors for heroin.

Don't mind me, I'll be under the bridge downtown.

I think this is my most interesting doorbell visitor to date.

Squirrels and cats and dogs and now... birds... have decided they should wake me up by setting off my doorbell motion detector.

Okay, I will admit practical effects were the way to go in this instance.

The resemblance is uncanny.

Valley.

I have on 12 layers of sparkly outfit and I am going to strip now.

Nudity will commence in an hour or so.

Thank you for your patience.

Okay, I just have to undo 30 laces on this corset and peel off 3 pairs of spanx. And if I could have a volunteer to tug real hard on these stiletto boots because I forgot to powder my legs and things are getting real sticky.

Okay, I have two jokes in response to this.

Pick your favorite...

Or...

I think sometimes the only exposure people have to trans folks is activists on social media. And that might give the impression that is all trans people are. And I was wondering if maybe it would be beneficial to share more content like this.

This is just a cool ass trans woman making cool ass sounds for cool ass video games. She is just living her best life and squishing melons in front of a microphone. She's not hurting anyone. She's just existing and enhancing our immersion.

Don't get me wrong, we need the activism. But so many people have this inaccurate caricature in their heads and are never exposed to the reality that trans people are just... people. And I think videos like this might challenge that caricature people have constructed.

Joanna's Twitter

Foley is "weaponized ASMR."

Just in case anyone else was wondering.

I wonder if Cheddar will overtake Ein as the most popular corgi name.