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carolinedohack.bsky.social
I write stuff.
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I'm signed up to do a Career Day presentation at my kids' school, so I ordered a bunch of reporters notebooks to hand out and it occurred to me I haven't touched one of those spiral-bound bad boys in almost a decade. Does anyone still use them?

Trying to teach fractions to a kid home sick from school and feeling very sorry for both of us.

Don't worry, there's a trail of Flamin' Hot Cheetos that will lead you home.

It is a compression sock kind of Monday.

I got a little wild placing library holds during the snow and now they're all ready to be picked up. Oopsie.

Imagining myself rattling down I-70 in this bad girl.

Rejoice with me, for I have finally gotten around to canceling my gym membership.

Max is a good name for a child, a great name for a Golden Retriever, and the very best name for a protein bar.

Remember when we were eating fat-free dairy products? God.

I've done enough physical therapy over the years to know that clamshells and glute bridges are the answer to everything. Knee pain? Clamshells and glute bridges! Hip pain? Clamshells and glute bridges! Sunday scaries? Clamshells and glute bridges!

In my 20s I dated this awful little man who once asked me how many miles I'd run that day. I told him just two. He said, "Then you can have just two pieces of pizza." Now in my 40s, I'm a much stronger runner and could, by his reasoning, earn a truly grotesque amount of pizza.

Do we think the final sentence contains an oopsie doopsie typo, or was this fella saying exactly what he meant?

That Tubi ad gave me nightmares.

I never watched football until my stepdad arrived on the scene. He was a Philadelphia native and a diehard "Iggles" fan, and so here I am. Fly, Eagles, Fly!

Hy-Vee has a buy 3, get 2 free deal on Fresca. When the apocalypse comes, I will be ready.

Once you've seen the same bad headline 9x it's good to stop scrolling and put on an alternative rock CD

My kids' school is doing a Chiefs-themed spirit week. But you know ... GO BIRDS!

I have learned so much about the sex lives of squirrels today.

From now on I will choose to believe that the stars are pierogi.

Hmm ... well, process of elimination. We know it's not Chesterfield.

My compost heap has main-character energy.

Here's the death tube. Or if you're feeling metal — and I assume you are — here's the deth tüb.

Had to call pest control about a squirrel that is eating its way into my house. Guy says he'll install a length of mesh tubing with a kill trap inside. It's a cylinder of death! One way in, no way out!

The first (and last) time I went to a club, a man approached and said, “Daaaaaamn, sexy, what’s your name?” and I — half a fuzzy navel deep and feeling extraordinarily clever — responded, “Sounds like yoooou already know it.” He fled fast. Anyway, I feel this pizza is the same type of flatterer.

Sounds like someone needs to call a mouth plumber.

Either pizza now grows on trees or a squirrel dragged this up from my compost heap and left it for later.

Oh.

I just spent $60 on tea. I never dreamed my 40s would be this exciting.