Stories from a queer feminist

Sheldon's Mom

This is what falling asleep drunk feels like

An arm of iron, a fist of steel—that is the God I know; when He decides, He does not change His decree. The sun hides before His glory; eternity is but the beginning of the story, and the entire universe is far too small—it is merely a file in His memory.

Past present and future

School lunch

It's a sad story

Do you think it's accurate?

When immature ol' me hears or reads about Moscow in the news...

At least they sleep well