Love me, love my home state: a T-shirt homage to the greatness of Oregon (via this).

Bonus props to Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, a band I like (in addition to its name-checking of everyone’s favorite former president of Russia) because they have a song called “Oregon Girl.” In my deluded little T-centric world, I like to think that my old non-Oregon boyfriends think of me fondly when they hear it, a small tear perhaps escaping as they reminisce.

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OK, I promise: Last gif animation of the day. Now, laugh! Laugh at the merriment!

Happy New Year. Welcome to 2008. Eat more creampuffs.

Yeah, when you’re the youngest of seven kids, the holidays tend to be an extended affair.  

 

Grandchildren were amused by crinkled paper ….

 

… unholy quantities of food and drink were consumed …

 

… and whilst jiggling a four-month-old on his knee, Uncle B regaled the family with a story about airport security personnel overlooking mortar shells falling out of his backpack when he returned from Iraq. (Similar TSA officials, it should be noted, frisked my very Indian, heavily bearded and mustachioed husband at JFK International Airport, and grilled him for 15 minutes about looking “nervous” — I mean, he was preparing to visit his in-laws for the first time, how else would he look? — as I stood impatiently, waiting to make our way to the gate.)

Family, food, cream puffs, tiny disco balls … what more can a girl ask for?