Today, I am in mourning.
My hamster, Hurley, is a master of escapology. He's been found in various comical places since I got him: cupboards, beds, bookcases, lampshades. I've always marveled at his ability to safely navigate a house full of other animals who instinctively want to chase small furry things.
Last night, his luck ran out.
I am the saddest girl in all the world.
I buried him with his wheel and his bed.
GOD, EXPLAIN THIS BULLSHIT.
Okay, okay. I'm okay.
In other news, American Horror Story continues to impress with its sometimes campy, often terrifying tales from the asylum. Today's episode had all the AHS staples: awful Pseudo-oedipal rape (no really), suicide both real and imagined, Frances Conroy as the Angel of Death, and melty-faced monsters eating nuns.
Good times.
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