My Beloved Sega Genesis and Me

Hooooray!

Santa Claus came! Although it was 60+ degrees out, I still enjoyed Christmas all the same. Work finally slowed down and I got to go home to my mom’s house and scratch all my kitty’s fluff.

I got a Sega Genesis console thing that has a buttload of games already loaded in it BUT it is also compatible with all the original cartridges as well. This is nearly unheard of now so I was TRES excited. I tore about my mom’s house and found out games which I had apparently stashed under my bed incase I needed them STAT, which come to find out many years later, I DID!

The rest of my weekend was spent on and off between Making a Murderer and getting super pissed at Aladdin and also Lion King for Sega. I can definitely pinpoint where my hoard/lack mentality came from, which is essentially a subcategory of FOMO. Many Sega Genesis games cannot be saved. It’s just you and the game the moment you press “On.” There are  no checkpoints or auto-save. Once you die, you are DEAD. That goes for whether you are on level 4 or 48. It’s heartbreaking. I’m surprised we didn’t over heat our play room when we were little because we would pause the game then shut the TV screen off as to not cause any suspicions from the parents (which they would soon figure out after their electric bill as triple the usual amount after we’d leave the game on for days straight).  We did what had to be done…and at least we built some commitment ethics.

I got a lot of shit for barricading myself in the basement but you can’t expect to give me a golden ticket to happiness and not expect me to use  it immediately.

Also, as I’m sure you’d heard already…GO WATCH MAKING A MURDERER ON NETFLIX. I watched all 10 episodes in under 48 hours. IF you start, I’m sure you’ll end up doing the same. The corruption, the lies, the accents…all outstanding.

Anyways, I’m in my bed and I have my neck and head propped up at a sharp 90degree angle so time to go.

BYEBYE I LOVE YOU! Don’t forget to bathe in MilkDuds 143.

Gravatar and Burning Hair

The more I fiddle around on WordPress, the more I realize I have no idea how to use it.

Same goes for Gravatar. Do we not live in an age where the photo you just updated should actually update? I need answers people. Immediate gratification. Which is why I watched 8 episodes of Game of Thrones today. 

Patience has never been in my wheelhouse. I’m looking up “wheelhouse”  right now because I’m not sure I’m even know what it means. I NEED TO KNOW NOW. Is it synonymous with “skill set?” To be continued. 

In disturbing news, I straightened my hair today (keep reading). As most hair-straightener-users know, that when you turn the temperature dial up to 450 degrees, your hair tends to smoke when the volcanic plates press your hair into submission. It’s something I’ve known since I was in 9th grade when I first starting burning my curls. In that 10 years, I’ve never experienced the travesty I did today. As my tresses were screaming for mercy under my godless rule, smoke billowed up (from the heat defender spray you have to douse your hair in so it doesn’t turn into a bail of hay) I turned my head towards my fire locks. A mouth breather by default when I’m by myself, I inhaled a puff of smoke. Very similar feeling of when you smoke for the first time. Burn, burn, hack, hack, hack, burn, hack. It was a sensation and taste I wish on no enemy. I have no enemies, but again, Game of Thrones. I’ve been talking to my cat in an English accent for the past couple days. Good thing she doesn’t know what “whore” means. 

In more disturbing news, I’m still looking for a job. Hire me to write the next big sitcom? Cool, cya there. 

Lots of love or something,

Lolo von Burntmyhairandateittoobergstein