The Target $1 bin never fails to amuse me. I know Birdie is grateful I shop there.
Tragic Unicorn is her look.
A herd of unicorns stampeding through my kitchen was just what the end to an exhausting day called for.
You can almost hear their tiny hooves.
However every story needs a little drama so I threw a shark into the herd.
Cue the music from Jaws as he scans the depths for treats!
duunnn dunnn… duuuunnnn duun…
duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn dunnnn
No! Birdie, look out there’s a shark!!!!
Shark: “Nope. I’m not messing with her. Movin’ on!”
Unicorns are such dicks.
“Oh, my horn’s so shiny.”
“Look at my glossy mane.”
“I poop rainbows.”
***Thanks, random thrift store find. This was just what I needed. I swear Sunday actually induces depression and self-loathing. FYI: I took the frame apart-you’re welcome, Goodwill- and discovered that “unicorn” was taped over “no one.” No one can make you feel inferior without your consent except unicorns and Sunday.