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quarkitty.bsky.social
🗡️ Anachronisric medievalist 🩸 30s ⚰️ Dolly Parton on the inside; Elvira on the outside 🕷️ still on neopets 💾 nature friend 🐌 american in germany. she/her
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[youtube in 1224] How Long Might He Live Whilst Flayèd

We watched Josie and the Pussycats last night and this movie is SO much funnier in 2025 as a perfect 2001 satirical time capsule. The outfits had me HOLLERING.

I was one of THOSE weird kids who loved necco wafers (especially the clove ones) and I just found out they have gelatin in them, all hope of recapturing childhood joy is officially CANCELLED

Hate to break up a family but I think jane jetson and the robot maid Rosey could have been happy together.

Mourning the rainforest cafe that I used to live by in NJ closing. I am mentally tossing a lily at the feet of an animatronic gorilla. I got the waterproof mascara and waterproof eyeliner LOCKED ON in case I get sentimental about the chairs shaped like giraffe asses.

My maternal grandma died when I was only one, so I didn’t know her except for stories. But my mother says that she sees grandma in ME. And after seeing this old rodeo photo: yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah!

Getting a very strong urge to fly a kite, I need the simple whimsy.

Friends, it’s Friday and what’s that? Check your watches. Time for me to be wine tipsy and emotional about the kd lang vanity fair cover. Sweating like a stallion on a carousel, mopping up my forehead with a silk embroidered cloth, unbuckling my seat belt and stomping the gas.

Since I’ve been watching a lot of old tv and movies, I wanted to bring back blue eyeshadow. We should have never let anyone tell us this gauche. Hell, maybe I WANNA be gaudy and tacky.

The only thing I use Facebook for is to occasionally log in and see my “your memories from this day” because they are always a damned DELIGHT.

FLOWERS. A BEE! It’s happening, baybeeee.

Dressing my Pocket Camp villager up as a little detective and pretending we’re going to a Columbo fan convention

My husband received a spam text (from the US?) that sounds like the start of an indie horror game.

Uploading my consciousness to a ps1 memory card, corrupting the data, and throwing it into an incinerator.

Read. A hauntingly beautifully written story about being torn between religious tradition, art, and failing to be who your family expects you to be. Maybe a mistake to read this while currently feeling very isolated from my mom because I was highlighting passages left & right.

Do I always pour my afternoon Red Bull into a cute little cat cup to drink during a meeting? Yes. Do I always spill a little on myself on camera because I am the least coordinated person on earth and cannot be trusted with a wide-mouthed cup? Ladies and gents, you tell me.