Cud chewer

Last time I went to the dentist, the hygienist had me hold up a hand mirror to show me how flat my molars have become. They look like I clock in to chew my cud in a field from 9 to 5 every day, parallel pestle-less mortars ground into each other ad infinitum. Graduate school has definitely not been a good place for me.

a porcelain faced softbody jester facedown on a floor

In other news, I recently had a dream that I rescued and rehomed Clavicular. I plucked him off stream with my big hands and took him to a nice fraternity house where the main activity was neither spiking women's drinks nor worshipping Robert E. Lee; this frat was, in fact, a cat rescue where you could chill with and adopt the beasts during regular working hours. Bass throbbed gently at 11 am as I watched shiny muscle-tanked hunks gently pet cats and feed them salmon and all was well.