Amy Carter


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Being tailgated aggressively by this d-bag really puts me in the Christmas spirit.

Still cooking, y’all.

We got these as parting gifts from the antique shop. As in, please depart.

‘Bout to make some ghetto French 75s.

I’m thankful.

I bought these weird pants and I will wear them for all of Thanksgiving. Starting now.

how’s this?

Why, yes, we are eating more fried things. Seafood is healthy!?!


I did. But, sadly, not before this happened to my neighbors.

They called the big bosses in to deal with me. True story.

I don’t think this is entirely necessary.

Might have to chain myself to my live oaks. SCE&G is here butchering trees today.

Current status: ordering funeral flowers as I wait watching stormy skies. Such is life.

I always feel like somebody’s watching me.

I’m going to savor this moment now since I hear I’m returning to a frozen tundra.

Puerto Ayora, por la mañana (hace tres horas).

Darwin’s cotton, y’all.

Yesterday, I hung out with Guido.