Views From The Space-Ship: Chimichangas For The Soul
Here you go, fuckers! Some chimichangas for the soul! What exactly does that mean? Why, like usual, I got no fucking idea. I suppose I’m about to share some proverbial chimichangas! For your fucking soul! Cause the bless the Eldritch Ones, nothing makes my stomach glow like the deep, chaotic cheesiness of a chimichanga hitting my guts. So why shouldn’t the proverbial ones have the same effect on one’s soul? Fucking Hell, am I even making any sense? Does it even matter!
This is my goddamn Space-Ship, and you’re lucky I’m even wearing my ass-cloak and socks today. Be grateful you’re not staring at the dark, haunting plumage of my ass hairs as I bend over to snag a Diet Dew from the 3D-Printer adjacent to your bunk.
That’s one view you’re not getting here on the Space-Ship! But hit the jump to check out the ones you are getting, and share your own in the comments.
.glorious fat fuck
Look at this straight-up chonkin’ fat fuck. My favorite of the cats that inhabit this house, Hadley. Just living her life. Spoiled, spoiled as fuck.
Bask in the chaos of my desk, at the end of this teaching week. I need to get a bigger desk. One thicker. More throbbing. Capable of…handling more. Definitely angling to do that before the summer semester. In the meantime, check out this condensed son of a bitch.
.two cats [one futon]
Look at these two fucking furry colonizers. Suffering a moment of detente so they can both bask in the glory of my futon. Also picture: fucking Lucy’s dog hair all over the futon. In appears this son of a bitch exists simply to serve as a resting point for the beasts that inhabit this house. Including me!
That’s it for me, fuckers! What does your world look like this week?