WELCOME TO MOONJELLY

Oh my goodness, golly, we sent you ten e-mails, but you still almost missed our Black Friday sale.

I only want aliens now. If 2020 is going to end in a month, I NEED ALIENS.

Oh no. She rolled in a slightly weird way to check her phone, and now her whole body is done for.

After two months and several phone calls, I finally have a valid driver’s license again, but my photo is all blurry. If someone were to ID me, they’d look upon my license, and say, “The person in this photo is soft-focused and maybe starring in a floral perfume commercial. You look sharper and have more visible skin imperfections. Are you sure this is you?”. And I’ll be like, “I shan’t tell a lie. ‘Tis me. The truth is that I am half vampire, and I am cursed to photograph as

Or do I? The fact that they’re 50 percent off does nothing for me. I’m not interested. Maybe I clicked on the ad one time out of sheer curiosity, but if I wanted a pair of mesh crotchless high leg bikini panties (in new colors!), I would have purchased them by now. Yes, I did screenshot the ad, and I did send it to my husband. But not as a hint that I was jonesin’ for an airy underwear experience with him. More of a ”Please behold these, so that we may partake in amusement ov

And also, the used hairbrush. Last week, Netflix dropped Operation Christmas Drop, a Hallmarkmoviechannel-esque rom com set and filmed on Guam. Seeing as I a) love cheesy holiday movies, and b) am always homesick, I happily put the movie on. I was eager to see my home island depicted on my television screen and hopeful for a good old-fashioned, romantic balati fight on film. The premise that Andersen Air Force base would ever be considered for a shutdown— well, already we kno