My Beloved Sega Genesis and Me


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.

Fun with Rashes

Hey Squiggledots,

I think I’m allergic to my pants.

I started getting a pretty rash on my legs and I assumed it was from my pants being skin tight and wearing them in the dead heat of summer because heh heh why wouldn’t it be! But it wasn’t.

After some very legitimate research on the internet, I decided it’s from wearing heavily dyed fabrics (read: all I own are black jeans) rubbing against my delicate little snowflake legs. Snowflake as in, Snowflake the Dolphin, the star of the hit movie Ace Ventura: Pet Detective. We have a similar nice, rubbery texture to our skin.

Before I realized it was probably a textile allergy, I tried pouring hydrogen peroxide on it in case it was some type of 28 Days Later infection. I poured and poured waiting for it to bubble and burn but nothing happened. I tried again the next day with apple cider vinegar, nature’s cure, and my legs nearly fucking ignited. I sizzled like the little slug that I am.

Now I’m cutting off the leafs of my mom’s aloe vera plant and squeezing the juice onto the burns I created with the apple cider vinegar. I’m just a treat when I come home for the holidays.

Anyways, I’m trying to finalize my annual Christmas card costume. Last year I dressed as a giant reindeer and this year I’m trying to decide on how big of a schmuck I want to look like. 🙂

Okay! I love you! Go listen to Enya whydoncha!

The Beauty Within

Here is a photo portrait of me being gorgeous.

Santa sure can pick 'em.

Santa sure can pick ’em.

Here’s a close-up just for you.

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Christmas is coming! It’s almost here! HOORAY!

Christmas Eve is my fricken favorite. It’s warm and glowy in my house and lovely. Also lots of snacks. I really love snacks. Crackers, cheese, salami, pepperoni, pizza, nachos, ALL OF IT. And all on Christmas Eve. Christmas day was great in the morning because PRESENTS (!!!) but it always made me sad when it was over. When it’s just me and my snacks though, time stands still.

In other news, today is Keira Knightley Night. So was yesterday. Also everyday last week. Sorry to all my Pinterest followers who now have 563 pictures of Keira plastered all over their timelines. Keira forever. Long live the Knightley. Tonight’s Keira Knightley Night was “Last Night.” hehehe.

I almost ralfed on my desk this morning, so I feel better now that I’m on my couch eating 20lbs of ravioli and finishing up Christmas cards. I’ll be posting the photos on Christmas Eve as to not ruin the surprise of the card recipients.


k love you don’t forget to brush your hair to the right.

500 Days of Flannel

The wolf in sheep’s flannel.

I’ve been investing in men’s clothing lately. Specifically in $16 men’s flannels at Macy’s WHO, by the way, leaves the heat on 500 degrees in all their department stores. By the time I made it to the Men’s Department on the second floor I had to duck behind some scarves and wipe my upper lip sweat on the hats and mittens.

I’m starting to believe I have what one would call an “obsessive” personality. That hint might have been dropped for you when I started my series of posts “Songs I Listen to Compulsively” (new addition coming up soon…lots of Hall & Oates in this household this month).

WELL m’dears, if you have not tried on the John Ashford flannel collection, YOU are surely missing out. So what if it makes my already fleshy triceps look like giant meaty turkey legs you’d likely only find at a Renaissance Faire? They may look big but you know, those turkey legs are also damn DELICIOUS. You have to make sacrifices for the great good sometimes. And that greater good is the comfort of knowing you have a fantastic and comfortable outfit you can wear 8 days in a row without repeating a pattern or getting questioned about your own personal hygiene.

AND THEY HAVE CHRISTMAS-ESQUE COLORS! Like most plaid flannels, the standard red/green/some other color make you look extra festive and definitely not obnoxious at all.

Speaking of obnoxious, it’s that time of year again…IT’S A VERY LOLO CHRISTMAS! Every year I bathe in the holiday spirit by soaking myself in a nice hot bath of humiliation. Well, I’m not embarrassed by it, but I’m sure my peers have picked up the slack on those reindeer reigns and are mortified for me. SEE BELOW.

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I really relish in stretching the bounds of my appearance. In other words, I’m not afraid of seeing how far I can go to make myself look like an asshole. Turns out, all it takes is my blowdryer and a Kmart clearance sweater!

Anyhonk, if I don’t get my 13 hours of sleep I just might crack. I’m going to go lay down in my nice, soft, pile of flannels and dream about buying Irish Springs body wash and shaving my face.

okay I love you and don’t forget to build a castle in the sands of time.

I’m an Asshole


The Internet: A Scene

Here is a scene based on a true story.


(On phone)  Lauren isn’t sociable. She comes home then hides up in her room all night.


(To mother)  That’s not true! I haven’t been in my room since the WiFi dropped up there!

           (Blankly stare are each other.)


The End (but not really)

Hey Lint-lickers!

I DID IT. I FINALLY DID IT.  (Obligatory sex joke.)

Day 31. The final question of the Blog Challenge that I’ve managed to drag on since May. Whoops.

The Question: Why do you blog?

As I mention in every waking breath, in every medium, to every person I’ve met, I love comedy AND I love talking about things that other people feel uncomfortable talking about. Not controversial stuff (I mean, if you want!) but having conversations about emotional things that people stuff down inside them. Not necessarily a therapy session, but I appreciate talking passionately, whether about that goofy music you loved when you were 10 or that time your uncle died. Most people, when getting to know me, throw a “you’re weird” out there. But hey, I’m not going to pretend I’m a placid movie character. I over-share and reveal personal information about myself.  Just because you may not understand me, doesn’t mean you won’t, and doesn’t mean I don’t understand you.  I realized my “weird” is what a lot of people connect to on a deeper level. Several of my friendships have evolved from conversations that started with a “you’re weird” but closed with “I feel like I can be myself around you.” I don’t think I could dream up a more touching compliment.

In regards to blogging, I can reach people who might think the way I do, or who maybe are unconsciously searching for someone they can kick their shoes off with. We can toss around a few dick jokes too (because, y’know, comedy).

That being said, there are so many mediums available to throw your comedy onto. Naturally, I’m on all of them, but each outlet has it’s own crowd and it’s own set of strengths and weaknesses. Twitter is great for quick jokes, but blogging is a great place for rich storytelling. AND I GOT STORIES, KIDS.

It’s also a place I like to go to when I remember I went to college for writing and need to fill the void by writing reflective essays about myself.

Well. There it is. All done.

Thank you all who have kept tabs on ZE BLERG SHULERNGE. I think I lost the challenge in regards to the “31 Days” thing, but I answered all the questions, so there.

Until next time, my shining stars!

My Dirty Love Child

That sounds like I’m giving birth in a 3 foot plastic tub, naked, with my adolescent children swimming around in the after birth.

BUT NOT SO! It’s a weird project I’ve entangled myself in.

I love these guys.


Or not.

It’s pretty shitty. But that’s what makes it good?

Okay, bye!

Coke Whore

I’m sorry, did you say something? I couldn’t hear you over the cracking of my sweet, delicious Coke.

The cracking of the can, the first sip of crisp liquid love.

I’ve fallen back into my old habits.

When I was in 6th grade I would have a minimum of 5 cans per day, along with 2 meatball Hot Pockets. I stopped drinking it and lost a bunch of weight, but now over 2 years out of college I find myself standing in front of the display at CVS wondering which package will come home with Mama.

I touched that one, but I saw that one first. Well I can’t just choose between my children. You both can come home! (Cue me walking out of the store with a 12 pack under each arm.)

I get into my car and there are cans in all the designated cup holders. The trash bag in the back seat is filled to the brim with cans that clink around as a drive, just like Santa’s sleigh bells.

I didn’t really see the problem with it. I love what I love and it’s the one thing, you know, besides friends and family and bler blah barf, that I can rely on.

I did question myself as I was sitting at my desk, watching some stand-up, when reached for my Coke. I started to take a sip when I came out of my Coke haze and remembered I hadn’t put my Coke on my desk. I looked over at my night stand and my darling cherub sat there in all it’s beautiful red glory, shining like the angel of mercy it is.

I looked down at the Coke in my hand and realized it was probably from when I was cleaning my room the weekend prior.

That would explain the green fuzz growing around the mouth piece. I thought maybe this can came with it’s own terrarium. Got to be environmentally conscientious these days.

I mean, even the name Coke, sounds like the noise it makes when you open the can. The freshness. The bubbles dancing around on my tongue. Sweet relief.

At any rate that’s where I am, squealing with delight over a box of Cokes that still have the polar bears on the can, even though the box didn’t indicate they were the winter edition.

Now that is a true treasure.

Until next time, my Chipsqueaks!