This is it. Here and now. I am going to bed a full hour (okay maybe not full, more like 45 minutes?) earlier than when I usually go to bed.
The past week (is it passed or past? I realized I have no idea and I can’t search the internet right now BECAUSE I’M LOSING PRECIOUS SLEEP TIME) I’ve been peeling myself off my sheets and trying to breathe through my inflamed little nostrils. I will not rest until I am through the winter, cold and illness free. If you don’t think I will pump my body with 5000% of the daily value of vitamin C than you, sir or madam, have underestimated the lengths I will go to. I’m setting up my Zicam endorsement deal right now!
Tomorrow is the BOOZE CRUISE in which I will set sail on the Boston Harbor with a bunch of 80s clad dancers and we will sing and dance and hopefully not swim the night away.
Okay, I love you and don’t forget to floss.
I changed my layout!
By change, I mean I was checking the layouts page and clicked on one and now I can’t remember what the original theme was so now we’re stuck like this forever in a swirling vortex of fonts and pictures and headers.
I’ve gotten into a horrible pattern of only getting 7 hours of sleep instead of my minimum requirement of uninterrupted, climate controlled, noise reduced 14 hours. I wake up every morning with my eyelids suctioned closed and my eye sockets sunken 2 inches deeper into my face bone.
I think it’s starting to affect my myriad self-diagnoses. One of those being exploding head syndrome. After some light Google and WebMd research, I found a WikiPedia article highlighting my major (and only) symptom that as been quite the affliction for a few years. In between the wake/sleep state right before fully falling asleep I hear a large BANG, or CRASH, or KABOOM. Literally, like a bomb going off. Naturally, I nearly shit my JCPenney microfiber snowmen sheets and wake up. It’s not dreaming because it sounds so real that it’s hard to tell if it really happened or not (and no, it’s not the nana in the upstairs apartment slamming her cane and bocce balls around. I CHECKED.)
I made the grand mistake of alerting my mother of my “symptom” and haven’t stopped receiving phone calls for the past 5 weeks. She wants me to try to holistic approach of rubbing tree bark on my arm pits and seeing a doctor who only prescribes remedies he concocts in the basement of his home office in the woods.
On the delirious side, I’m here to bring you quality content via blog post! How lucky are we to have such a moment.
Twitter jokes (@LoloVonK) has taken a backseat for a few weeks as I’ve been trying to turn tweets into blog posts, blog posts into essays, and essays into books. If I’m quiet there, it’s because I’m working my way up the stairs to scream from up on the rooftop.
Okay dears, back to being awoken in 10 minutes by the sound of a car playing the symbol with his fists made of explosives.
I love you, don’t forget to shut to stove off, BYE.
I don’t want to sleep when I’m dead. What if I don’t have the option? That saying is bullcrap. I’m certain I can sleep now on earth but what if I can’t sleep in Heaven? Then I just WASTED my sleep opportunity. GONE.
What if it doesn’t even matter up there? WHAT IF IT’S NOT AN OPTION AT ALL?!
And if there is no afterlife at all, then EVERYTHING.IS.RUINED! How could we be so presumptuous? How can we even begin to deprive ourselves of laying our sweet little heads onto our hypoallergenic pillows and gently drifting to a place where we can roller skate naked on an airplane with no consequences except maybe we totally forgot about the midterm exam we have to take and need to jump off the airplane ASAP.
What are your thoughts? TELL ME. I’m going to sleep because I am taking advantage of this gift and also this NyQuil that’s thinning my blood.
K love you, hope you dream about doughnuts and lots of hunky men or women.
Hi, my friends.
Like many writers, artists, monkeys, and other creative people, I get really irritated when I’m not producing anything. I have 47,000 ideas going on at once and there’s just too many chips in the cabinet for me relax and sit down to focus on one. Or twenty. OR ANY.
Thank God for the instructions of NaNoWriMo. I’ve always edited as I go which made my 5th grade book reports a real bitch in the Lo Kirby household. Half way through my stunning argument on why Charlotte from Charlotte’s Web was my favorite character I’d think, Wait…Is Charlotte kind of an asshole to Wilbur? I don’t agree with her methods at all! Do I really hate Charlotte? Oh my god, I HATE CHARLOTTE.
It’s a curse. It also inhibits me from working on essay and letting it breathe before I start tearing it apart and eventually giving up on it altogether. I have a list published on McSweeney’s and that took nearly two years to achieve and I worked on it steadily. I wonder where 47 word documents with 3-10 sentences in each with the intention of becoming a story will get me? Hmm.
I CAN’T HELP IF I GET BORED AFTER 30 SECONDS OF WRITING BECAUSE THERE’S CHEESE IN MY FRIDGE AND I HAVE TO GO TO WHERE THE CHEESE IS BECAUSE CHEESE IS NOT BORING.
SO, I started a new process. I have a giant coloring pad that I have deemed my “Story Board” (harharhar, elbow jab, wink wink, hehe, hoohoo). Every single story idea that flashed for 2 seconds in my mind goes on the board. No wonder I was stressed out. After 10 minutes I had about 30+ stories written down. These are ideas that have been floating around for months or years. Now that the idea is down I don’t have to worry about texting it to myself 12 times over the year when I remember it while walking around Walmart or honking down a burger at McDonald’s. It’s there and now I can pick one and focus on it.
We’ll see how the focusing goes.
Okay, I love you, you smell great, here’s my number, don’t forget to feed the dog, tell the babysitter to stop stealing the K-Cups. GOODNIGHT!
I’m manifesting my desires like a pro.
Last week I barked about all the new candles I got at Yankee Candle and how I wanted to smear the wax all over my body.
LITTLE DID I KNOW that I would be invited to go to the YANKEE CANDLE VILLAGE FACTORY STORE! The Yankee Candle Flagship. The motherland.
The mere four hours we spent traipsing around the store really got my chakras aligned and my third eye open. I also think I might have had a contraction or two. To be determined.
The real kiss on the lips was the $20 of $70 coupon I had. CHILD’S PLAY. I loaded up my cart, grabbing full price items, sale items, some gum off the ground. When I got to the register which was about 46 older women named Helen and Barbara lined up for mile ringing up me and every other nana in the store at the same time. My Helen-Barbara rang up all my regular priced hoard-worthy items and mentioned that the coupon did NOT COVER the sale items. IT’S OKAY! I shouted because I had a $20 of $45 coupon on my phone! I’m not an amateur. But Helen-Barbara…oh Helen…she said my items did not ring up to $45 either! My regular priced items came to $44.95 and HB never rang up my sale items (worth $30). I mentioned this and she still said I couldn’t use the coupon, which I understood, I could’t, but she still didn’t ring up my sale items that I wanted, coupons or not. HELEN-BARBARA WOULD NOT LISTEN! I swiped my card for $44.95, sans coupons. QUICK RECAP: paid for regular priced items, told HB I still intended to buy the sale candles even if I couldn’t use a coupon, told HB that she never rang up my sale items, HB said she did. LO GET’S FREE CANDLES! HOORAY! HB was very nice and I was very nice back. DON’T LET MY CAPS LOCK SHOUTING FOOL YOU!
Now with 7 more candles in tow, I plan on going to a Yankee Candle store tomorrow to take advantage for the Buy 2, Get 2 Free sale. APPLE CIDER CANDLES FOR EVERYONE! I feel like I’m turning into az4angela except Jen from Appleton is my best friend.
Okay childrens. I love you, may you enjoy something in your life as much as I love Yankee Candles. Thank you, bye.
It was a very sad week at Chez We Love Toast. Our baby four-month old toaster, Kenmore, blew a fuse and only toasts one side of whatever object we want to cram in there.
How can we live in a world with bread you have to flip over every 30 seconds?
I filled the void of non-difficult toast with Dunkin Donuts cinnamon munchkins. It’s in small moments you find meaning, like today when I ordered the cinnamon munchkins and my friend ordered pumpkin munchkins. LIVE AND LET LIVE. I never really thought about the phrase but today while staring at the K-Cups through my uncaffeinated haze into the doughnut bins. One persons cinnamon munchkins is another persons pumpkin munchkins. Hallelujah, praise even toast.
Okay, I love you. BYE.