Yes, I’m an amardillo in a bucket

Please God, if I never own own any other furniture, can I have this?


I love how small the TV is in comparison with all the books. Exactly how life’s ratios should be. Note the ladder down at the end, which I presume is sized for feline scaling.

Currently reading: The Sinkings. Hermaphoditic history interwoven with past and present murder mysteries. More when I finish it.

Books for BClub this month: The Book Thief, and River God. Mega looking forward to both.

New favourite blog



 “I see you eyeing me, Armadillo, and I have to say I don’t care for it. It’s not that weird for me to be interested, YOU ARE AN ARMADILLO IN A BUCKET. Did you think this kind of thing would go unchallenged? The truth of the matter is, armadillos should never be in buckets. We’ve all seen you out there rolling yourself into a ball, digging holes, and dancing on the internet. An armadillo has to do what an armadillo has to do. But there’s no reason you should pop out of that bucket, with your little nose and your big ears and those paws and give me a big stink eye, like, “Yeah, that’s right, I’m an armadillo, and I’m inside your fucking bucket.” All I have to say is you better get right out of that bucket, Armadillo, and get the HELL out of my face. Your days of weird-looking intimidation are semi-over, Armadillo.”

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