Methinks the gentleman doth protest TOO much.

(No, really. And I hate to admit it but I lose my absolute shit when I think about him interrupting a Very Important meeting to accuse someone of putting a pubic hair on his Coke.)

When I go back to having signs and screaming with a backpack full of bandaids and snacks, I'll know I've become crone.

This very much. I struggle hard with my policy of honesty and also not fucking up a kid with the truth.

Hell, I love them, too. Always a good little escape. But now, it's impossible to feel anything frivolous.

I'm currently hosting an event and trying not to lose my shit. I'm a compartmentalizing champ, but God fucking damn it.