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It's become a recurring practical joke on the set to replace our chainmail and costumes with pleather and gimp masks. It's no longer amusing.

When I find out which member of the crew is doing this, I will show them exactly how accurate I am with an arrow.

Can you feel it? Life. Death. So much power. It burns.

...Mom's decided we should keep her favorites out of the batch of furry things and that I am going to leave the shop to my employee for the afternoon tomorrow and join her for a drive out to the country where we release the others in a big ceremony of life affirmation or something like that.

...I think Mom got into the stash under the till again

It hasn't actually happened yet, but any ideas for getting rid of a pile of them really really fast would be welcome. They've eaten the offering packets, they've eaten the niche novelty stuff like the Budha shaped pasta, which I really think is pretty offensive anyway, but it's still a big seller, and have gotten into the hemp products, which they actually seem to enjoy. It does make them a little more mellow, but when they're mellow, they've started breeding MORE.

The last straw was when they found and ate my apple pie. My fucking apple pie. That alone means that these little bastards have to die.

We tried a banishing ritual, we tried just having them go outside, but none of that's actually working here. Mom's idea though? Craziest of all, and it's not happening. If I could have some evidence to show her why this sucks? I'd appreciate it.

I thought I said no bloody PETS in the HOUSE because I do not LIKE pets. Whatever small fuzzy thing that I stomped on while pacing and making overseas phonecalls, that squeaked like some dying thing afterward? I'm pleased to inform you that I picked the hairy little...it's like one hairy ball that's lost it's mate...I picked up the whatever it is? I went into the loo and dropped the thing into the toilet and flushed it, since I've probably squashed it's insides all over. For all I know, it's a floater in there, or it got stuck like a clog halfway down, or...I can't be arsed right now to go look. I'm busy. There's boats and things. Whoever let it in can go find out later if they need the plunger or they can take a piss outside, I suppose.

That's why you don't let headless bloody fat bastard hamsters run about underfoot.

That's why pets are horrid and I hate them.

I'll be doing that to any other pets I find.

You have been warned.

I like my job. No, I love my job. I'm proud of what I do. I actually get paid to have fun.

So the next person who tells me how I can still turn my life around, that I can do something productive with my life... well, they'll probably just get me laughing in their face.

I am a stripper. And I love it.

I actually have a Saturday night off. I never get Saturday night off. I guess that means I get to enjoy the night life instead of being the night life everyone enjoys. Anyone up for dancing and drinking?

Is a teenage boy supposed to cry when one makes an observation about the size of his penis?

( Wanted Notice, Not Necessarily SFW )

Hey Porn Guy. Or whatever your name is.

I would like to inform you that the bedroom isn't so far away from the kitchen that I can't smell food when it's making a mess all over mycooking.

When I can smell, anyway.

A girl can't survive on apple juice and tv, where the hell was MY food all day?

It's really boring in here, if you're going to fight you could at least give me some popcorn and then have it out in front of me.

Also, why do I feel like somehow things in my house are subtly out of place?

Hullo, I'm Romany.

Because it's the sisterly thing to do. My brother in a skirt.

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