
I understand how you might think I’d be Frau Blucher in this situation, but I’m not. I’m her Marty Feldman. (Nicole’s husband is, obviously, Teri Garr.)
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.

I understand how you might think I’d be Frau Blucher in this situation, but I’m not. I’m her Marty Feldman. (Nicole’s husband is, obviously, Teri Garr.)
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.
If all that got posted today were pictures of Sansa cuddling and clips from Young Frankenstein, I would have exactly 0 objections.
same
I would object, but only to the Sansa cuddles not being with me.
same
Sansa’s little toothsome puppy grin actually hurts me, it is so cute and good. Wallow in these puppy cuddles, Mallory, for all our sake.
Nicole I must know, what is that room? Is it your bedroom? Is Mallory allowed on the bed? Or is it your lounge which has a bed in it?
That is my bedroom. Mallory has bed privileges.
Well hello.
Your bedroom is so giant! *looks around at tiny London flat, weeps*
I like how you didn’t question whether the puppy has bed privileges. Only Mallory.
If I had a Sansa of my own, I would train her specifically TO sleep on the bed, so when my (hypothetical, just like the dog) partner is out of town on a Business Trip or whatever, the dog would spoon me at night.
One of my dearest friends has some blackmail worthy photos of me that her wife took while I was napping on the couch, being slowly pushed off/passionately spooned by their English Mastiff/ Newfie mix. Bear was an avid spooner. You could not lounge anywhere without him popping his huge giant head over your shoulder to ask whether he could commence spooning.
I would like that. Except in summer, because July in the Midwest is already like an armpit even without a giant hairy dog.
Well said!
I’m assuming that’s a bed, a perfect place for puppy cuddles, mock wrestling and deep heart to hearts. But how in heaven’s name did she get her bedcovers so flat and so smooth? At first glance, I honest to God thought Mallory and Sansa were cavorting on a table (with an exquisite tablecloth, I might add).
LOOKIT THE WEE PINK BELLY!!!!!!!! GAAAAAHHHHH!!!!
Uh, Mallory’s belly is nice, too.
I am baffled by the smoothness of the covers. But that might be because the last time anyone in my house made the bed it was 2005 and my mother in law was coming to see our house for the first time. But even our guest bed, which stays made all the time, does not have covers that smooth…
I want to go to there.
Mallory is all of us in this situation. Sansa’s belly! Her feets! Her doofy grin! Her all-over puppiness!
I am deeply sleep deprived (roughly 97% zonked, 3% bonked) and sitting at my desk right now I’m finding the rhythm of this woman rolling back and forth utterly hypnotizing. Kinda bobbing my head side to side along with it…
Baaack and forth, baaack and forth…
GIMME THAT PUPPY.
Sorry. Sorry, I mean, haha so cute, so happy for you. You know what you should do next is GIMME THAT PUPPY.
Oh god, what’s wrong with m-GIMME THAT PUPPY.
I would like that. Except in summer, because July in the Midwest is already like an armpit even without a giant hairy dog.
*yearn*
*yearn*
I thought I slept pretty well last night. But after realising I don’t have a dog, I did not sleep very well at all.
Are those tie-dye palazzo pants?
I HAVE THAT SKIRT. Except….instead of feeling validated in my fashion sense, I’m now questioning both of us. Sorry Mallory. My self-doubt extends that far. Like an umbrella….or a big skirt.