On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. Today, write about finding something.
Continuing on with the Writing 101 prompts. Day 13.
This week I found out that I love Kill Bill Vol. 1 & 2. I’ve been meaning to watch them and I finally got around to it. I had seen bits of Vol. 2 a couple years ago but I finally watched both straight through.
Today I found that I enjoy driving towards Lower Cape instead of driving back to Boston. Lower Cape eventually becomes a dead end unless there is a boat waiting for me at the tip of Provincetown that I wasn’t aware of. I had no purpose for driving that way but I was there and I was driving further and further away from home. I didn’t care. Well, I cared at first. When I started driving past the familiar turns and started noticing the turns that weren’t so familiar, I started to panic a little. Maybe I should put my GPS on. Maybe I should turn around and head back. Then I asked myself why? I wasn’t going to drive myself into the ocean. So I kept driving and it felt good. When I did have to turn around and head back home, I noticed I was feeling a little bit resentful. BUT I WANNA KEEP GOING. Will do some more soul searching to figure that one out.
In other news, I saw Randy from the show Say Yes to the Dress today while out and about on my adventures. It reminded me of how I want to be a starlet. Tehe.
Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation. Day 12.
I could get snarky and write a conversation I’ve had about MTV’s The Real World. Or I could write a song review of Matchbox 20’s hit “Real World.” The truth is I don’t really remember any notable conversations as of late. The last conversation I had was me explaining to my roommate what happened in the two Arthur episodes I watched while I was on the treadmill today. It wasn’t even really a conversation as much as it was me just talking at her about how Arthur was being a real jerk to Sue Ellen over the yak hair sweater she received from her pen pal in the Himalayas. The changed the animation and a lot of the voices. And Arthur’s has become a real sassafras*. At first it seemed unbearable but after a few minutes the show picked up and it was pretty funny. It served as my tether to the treadmill.
Moving away from my horrible attempt at the Writing 101 prompt, I’m excited to go home for the weekend. I miss my mom and my cats. I also miss eating real food. I’ve been making the same salad wrap every day for three weeks. It’s delicious but I’m very hungry. Now accepting donations to the Feed Lo Kirby Something Other Than 75 cent Chef Boyardi Beef Ravioli Although It’s Delicious but Very High in Sodium Fund.
I’ve been interviewing a lot this week which is great because I just finished the second season of Orange is the New Black. Real divine intervention there. There’s only so much sitting on the couch and swatting away fruit flies one girl can do. I’m not sure of the origin of the fruit flies. They’re still an issue. More on that as it develops.
Any plans for the 4th of July? People keep asking me but since moving I’ve been on a “one day at a time” schedule. Which pair of shorts (out of the two I own) will I wear today? I’m running low on toilet paper…should I hold it in? Should I have the salad wrap or the salad wrap? I think the flies are here because they saw the vacancy in my cupboards.
That’s changing soon though. Say prayers for me and stuff.
(*I’m aware this is not what this word means. I like it anyways.)
Tell us about the home where you lived when you were twelve. Which town, city, or country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?
When I was twelve I was the same weight I am now and a foot shorter. I drank 6 cokes and ate 2 hot pockets every day followed by a couple handfuls of chips. Everyday I would hike it home from the bus stop. If my mom forgot to leave the door unlocked, I would stand on the steps and ring the doorbell for 45 minutes as my mother vacuumed the top of the stairs, which I knew because I could see her in the arch window on the door. The boys on my street would sit on the side of the road and watch as I stared at the door waiting for my mother to never realize I was outside. I’d resort to walking around to the back porch and stand there pressing myself to the back door until my mother walked by and my blubbery little shadow scared the shit out of her. “JESUS! Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?!”
I DON’T KNOW, MOM. I DIDN’T THINK OF THAT.
Mom, Dad, brother and Lolo. We moved from our house in Ohio into a smaller house on Cape Cod. I started the second grade there when I was 7 and moved out when I was 24. To this day it has never really felt like home. Even now, when I go back to visit, it doesn’t resonate as a nostalgic place where I spent most my life. I love being with my mom and my kitties but the physical house has never and still doesn’t register in my “this is a very significant place for you” section of my brain.
Even if it my house isn’t a grand symbol to me, it still was there to let my fleshy little Weathervane/Delia’s wearing body in.
Day 9 of Writing 101.
A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.
No. You leave Nana and her sweater alone. Stop crying over it. I’m sorry you knitted a sweater for your ferret, Julian, but he’s gone now. He packed his little suitcase and got on a little bus and moved in with his little mother because he was sick of your little sweaters. Let Nana enjoy her sweater-knitting. That little sweater is for Mr. Crackers, her little Parakeet. Sure, it’s more of a vest so his wings can fit in it, but that’s none of your business anyways. Goddammit Marc, pull yourself together. You’re embarrassing Glenda. I know you’ve been dating for two years and you think it’s comfortable and you can both be yourselves around each other but come on, you can’t cry every. single. time. you see a little sweater! I mean, you guys couldn’t even go shopping her sister’s baby shower together without you disrupting the peace in Baby Gap. Let’s get you in some therapy at least. Work through your issues so that maybe one day you can see a little sweater or knit little sweater for a new little ferret friend. You can do it, Marc. Me, Nana, Mr. Crackers, and even little Julian..out there…somewhere, believe in you. Godspeed.
Okay kids! Thanks for reading. Follow me on Twitter for more weird things I say! @LOLOVONK !
I’m on Day 8 of Writing 101.
Go to a local café, park, or public place and report on what you see. Get detailed: leave no nuance behind.
The thing is……. I didn’t go outside today. Yesterday I went to an hour-long “Brazilian Booty/Ripped Abs” workout class. I wish I could say the hardest part about it was spelling Brazilian correct on the first try but I was bed ridden for a good portion of the morning and sat on the couch all afternoon. The only time I got up was to nuke a Tyson chicken patty. Girl’s gotta keep up on her nutrition.
In other news, I’m sure this post would have actually answered the Writing 101 prompt had I gone to the Market Basket (read: cheap, semi-shitty food maybe? Still great though). I’m running out of food options but these toasted buns could not make it to the car or walk around a store for 20 minutes. Activia is on sale this week so I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to make smoothies that really do hold up to their cleanse promise. I gained a lot of weight after my dad died about two years ago and I’ve finally realized you can’t stay the same size sitting at a desk 8 hours a day and then 5 hours on the couch and then 10 hours in bed. Who knew? I’m getting back on track by trying something called “moving.” Details to follow. Today doesn’t count.
My sleep schedule is completely ruined as I’ve been getting up around 10-11am and going to bed somewhere between 2-3am. This is horrible because I require 9 hours MINIMUM. Preferred 10-14 hours. As you can see this poses quite the problem. The bags under my eyes could hold loose change.
It’s 2am now, better go scour some websites and play Candy Crush for the next hour!
P.S. Please follow on Twitter! I post all jokes and I swear they are great or good or maybe just okay sometimes. @LOLOVONK ! You can even try before you buy! Look to the right of my page and you’ll see a couple of my recent tweets!
Write a post based on the contrast between two things — whether people, objects, emotions, places, or something else.
Something that’s been an affliction as of recently is the fact that it’s gone from 50 degrees to 90 degrees in about a 2 week span.
Compare/Contrast: I was nice and cool but now I’m hot as fuck.
The twist to the Day 7 Writing 101 Challenge was to respond to this prompt with dialogue but I’m cranky because my calves are sweating.
In the early stages of getting to know someone, I usually ask questions like, Where are you from? What did you study in school and why? What’s your dream job? and Would you rather be hot or cold?
I like to think it tells me a lot about a person on how they answer that question. With no scientific merit whatsoever, I feel like I get an insight into your dark little soul AND if we’d get along in a car ride.
I’m a coldy. I rather be cold and pile on 3 million blankets. My irish skin flushes and starts to burn when I’m in a room set above 68 degrees. When driving in wintertime I’ll jack the heat up to get warm fast but then on with the AC. I can’t do the dry heat coming out of the vents. My lips instantly chap and my skin wrinkles.
In the cold the air is crisp and I don’t look like an unused matchstick (because the head is red, GET IT?!).
Thinking about sweating makes me itchy. Maybe I’m one of those people who are allergic to their own sweat. Or maybe it’s a fear of being an over-sweating in high school and never wanted to raise my arms so everyone could see my giant sweat stains.
So, which do you prefer?
Hot or cold?
PS. Please follow on Twitter @LoloVonK for daily jokes you probably shouldn’t share with mom (my mom not yours).
Who’s the most interesting person (or people) you’ve met this year?
Day 6 of the Writing 101 challenge which I’ve so far neglected like my Tamagotchi cat, Whiskers.
It’s halfway through 2014 and I’ve made a lot of big changes in my life. New apartment, new job, switched from diapers to Pull-Ups.
To answer the question, the first person to pop up for me I technically met in 2013. SO now that that’s scrapped, the second person or people I think of are all of my neighbors in the apartment building complex I live in. There are about 10 townhouses with 8-10 individual apartments inside each. From walking around in the parking lot to existing in my room, I have a weird Polaroid-type concept of each person that shares the same general space as me.
There are the people who bang things around upstairs at 1:30 in the morning (why? they are elderly, what are they doing up there?), the people who let their smalls children run around the parking lot unsupervised (WATCH OUT FOR THAT CAR! and I don’t even like kids, yeesh), and the tenants that take everyone else’s mail (I really wanted those China Palace coupons). Everyone is either very friendly and willing to stop to chat or they will avoid eye-contact with you and slam their doors behind them.
I love living here and I’ve made it a sick game of making up backstories for everyone I come in contact with. Some of my predictions have been true, making the game more addictive.
I WONDER WHAT THEY THINK MY BACKSTORY IS?!