It’s my Insta-jam

My name is Alicia, and I have an addiction to Instagram.

Manual labour made easier through booze; since 1867

A legit addiction to taking stupid photos of my slightly-less-than-entertaining-shut-up-I-think-it’s-funny life, adding a pre-fabricated filter, calling it art & spewing it all over the Internetz. You’re welcome, Twitter. (<- ps. Follow me. For reals.)

Crafty like a ninja

Or yeah. That works too.

This is dangerous for a number of reasons, chief among them is if my daughters ever come across these pictures they will surely stick me in the worst excuse for an old-age home known to mankind. Also? It’s mostly a blatant excuse to fan the flames of a social-media life I have created in my head. I blame you, by the way. Stop saying you wait for my Facebook status updates because they’re funny. Quit laughing at my tweets. (ignore that, don’t quit. I love it.)

Baby bum!

We missed one crucial step in How To Water A Garden for Dummies

I’ll keep showing up if you do. Because there will always be more epic gems such as this:

Seeeesturs!

And this:

Get.In.Mah.Mouthparts.

You’re welcome.

The Management

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Talk to Meeeeeeeeee

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