Nickelback, Game of Thrones, and Other Fun Things

Hey BingBongs,

I flossed my teeth a few minutes ago so you could say things are really falling into place for me. I even changed my bedsheets which listening to Rockstar. Before you lay into me, we can all join hands and agree that Nickelback is the most hated band BUT you can’t tell me that you don’t sing all the goddamn words to Rockstar and don’t act like Billy Gibbons doesn’t look cool as fuck and he’s not even trying to look like he’s lipsyncing anything remotely close the the words. The secrets and shame stop here.

In other news, Grace and Frankie has a second season on Netflix and it is DELIGHTFUL. If you like complex relationships and people saying the word fuck then you are in for a real treat. That’s my recommendation, a tres niche audience.

Also, Game of Thrones is a show that people watch. I’m having a hard time watching it lately because  I realized that there is no way this series is going to have a happy ending and every character I hold dear to my hear will get slaughtered eventually. It’s taken the thrill out of it. Then again, I did just rent Inside the Actor’s Studio DVD from the library so I might not be the best judge of what is good and cool.

I don’t have my glasses on so god knows what any of this says, so fret not cutie-pies, my motorskills are not deteriorating before you this day.

Ok, I am tired though.  I love you 143 831 smooch bye. xo

Look Ma, Gray Hair

Hey Nana-Lovers,

I rented a few DVDs from the library this week because my hair is starting to gray and I’m trying to take it in stride. I should add that those few DVDs were all various seasons of Inside the Actor’s Studio with James Lipton. That may be my penance for ripping one of my gray hairs out when no one was looking.

Do you write gray or grey? I’ve always written “gray.” It looks better. “Grey” reminds me of murky tap water or a dense fog and it makes my nana-bones hurt. Also, Grey Goose tastes like feet. Also, Christian Grey likes to taste feet. Coincidence? I don’t know, I haven’t read the book so I don’t even know if that’s true but it probably is so yay.

My mom started graying in her teens and my dad started graying closer to his 40s so I don’t know what’s going on with me but I’m rounding the corner to 27 and I have enough wiry strands to pluck out and makelife-like whiskers for a sock puppet cat. I met someone the other day who had a voice like a sock puppet, or how I imagine a sock puppet would sound. It was a very deep man voice and had a slow and careful way of enunciating words. It might have been a gorilla, I don’t know.

I just did my nails so the fumes might be making me delusional. Or it was the drugs I did in college. Hey-o! My nails are Barbie pink but the color is called “Purple Panic” and I really would like to see someone about this because it’s not even close to a magenta or orchid, let alone a PURPLE. What an outrage. I’ve also had this nail polish for 10 years so the chemical content coming off my nails and into my nostrils is probably not favorably to my case.

Any ways, I’m tired and I haven’t been to work on time in two years.

k love you bye smooch 143xo

 

Sea Enema: Where Nemo Lives Maybe?

Tomorrow I have a Halloween costume dance  to go to with my mother.

I’ve only known about the dance for a few days but I’ve heard that the other attendees have been working on their costumes for months.

The theme is “Arrrt and Souls” or “under water” for the lay person. It’s at the community art center (GET IT?! ARRRT? Although pirates typically don’t live under water but who’s put limits on their existence.)

I really hope it just turns out to be an Enchantment Under the Sea dance and I save my family from disappearing.

In my race to get a relevant costume, I made the quick and misguided decision of being a sea anemone. It wasn’t until about 4 seconds ago that I realized I haven’t even been pronouncing it correctly. When I was talking to a coworker today, I mentioned I was going to the aquatic theme dance as a sea enema.I knew that I was saying enema instead of anemone but this little scrambled eggs brain has a hard time getting my mouth to say the things it wants to correctly.

AS for my costume, my choice was made because I didn’t want to spend a lot of money and I had access to A LOT of pink and orange ribbon. I also have a Finding Nemo stuffed animal so he’s going to come to the dance as my date. I also needed fast and effective relief so I could be regular again.

My costume is packed for after work. I hope the ribbons don’t rip to shreds while it”s in there or spontaneously combust.

Wish me lick and I hope I win the coveted “Most Likely to Not Be Able to Pronounce Costume Name.”

Hooray! Okay goodnight love you bye don’t forget to check your Halloween candy before donating all the KitKats to me BYE!

Archangel Dropsmoneyalotiel

A few weeks back I decided to drop $300+ on an Angel Card Reading Certification class. I figured if you’re going to do weird shit, you might as well be certified to do it.

I bought traditional tarot cards a while back because I thought it would be fun but you can only pull the Devil card so many times before you start to wonder if you’re part demon.

I went to a weekend workshop for intuitive people and met a lady who talked a lot of about angel card readings. They work similar to traditional tarot but they aren’t as scary and don’t have knives and frowny people on every single card.

I’ve never been super religious but I have been obsessed with learning about all religions and spirituality. I was forced into Sunday School from my Roman Catholic upbringing but all I remember from it is that I got a Beanie Baby for finishing one of the classes. Needless to say, this has been an interesting turn of events, now that I have five Angel Tarot and Oracle card decks. Maybe if I get more I can start laying them like bricks and build a fort and live in in forever.

If you want a reading, feel free to comment and I’ll give you one. They’re fun and helpful and you can either take the advice or you can wipe your ass with it and call it a day.

hehe k bye eat some dates or figs they’re good.

Do Not Microwave Your Dirty Sponge or You Will be a Sad Person

Are you a sad person? Is it because you microwaved your sponge?

I know most of you cried out with  resounding “YES!” to both those questions, so I’ll just cut to the chase.

If for by some reason you answered “no” to the second question, which I know is highly unlikely, then I’m going to dispense some Baz Luhrmann advice on you. Also, Luhrmann autocorrected when I spelt it wrong and that frightens and delights me. Anyways, DO NOT MICROWAVE YOUR SPONGE. But yes, wear sunscreen.

seal

If this seal can do it, then you can do it too!

After seeing a post about cleaning your kitchen, I read some of the tips listed–one of which was “microwave your sponge to kill bacteria!” Good idea in theory BUT what is not mentioned is the fact that although the germs may be dead, they also die a fucking wretched, butt-smelling death. You know when your sponge has worn down and it has gross dirty dishwater smell? Yeah, it’s like that but only HOT and like someone wiped the sponge up their asshole.

giphy

Here we are in the Pit of Eternal Stench.

Don’t do it, unless your into a buttonhole smelling sponge thing. I’m sure there’s a section of the internet that caters to that. So, I bet you are looking for a solution now that I’ve busted that myth? Well, I don’t have one because I’ve lost all sense of smell after that experiment and won’t be able to conduct any further tests. Please send clean sponges in lieu of flowers.

Have you ever tried a dumb hack and found out that it was really dumb? Tell me in the comments so I can avoid doing those dumb things! I should show you my cream cheese Oreo truffles I tried to make. They were as gross as that sounds.

Okay! I love you! Go buy some nice fresh sponges and don’t stick them up your butt unless they are the feminine sponges but then again those don’t go up your butt either OKAY BYE DON’T BE A SAD PERSON!

Are You Difficult?

I think I’m difficult. Not a highly attractive quality but I do as Agent Dale Cooper does and I give myself a gift EVERYDAY. Sometimes I give myself MULTIPLE gifts. Coffee. Ice Cream. Lots of TV shows. Magazines. The part that makes me “difficult” is that I ask or get myself what I want. But am I difficult or am I LEANING IN to get the extra piece of pie before anyone else gets it? (That’s what “leaning in” is, right? For food? You gotta lean in for food.)

In what ways are you difficult? Would you call yourself an obsessive personality?

I ask the second part because sometimes my obsessive trait stomps on the little fingers of my difficult trait. I want 400 of the same flannel and I’m going to leave the family party until I get them. Once I do, I will return to the family party but not until my thirst for flannel (or whatever) is quenched.

Have you ever made the mistake of wanting something and letting it go but then realizing you’ve made a grave mistake and can no longer reverse your decision? I try to avoid those moments. Not ALL of them or else this would be a blog about hoarding. ALSO this is not entirely on material items. I get the same way with writing. If I feel I haven’t been creative or let the tension of wanting to write something out, I get a big ball of stress in my chest until I make something of it. Hence this blog where I can dump my crap and humor onto you beloveds.

From a higher sense, maybe it stems from a portion of myself not being fulfilled. That’s when the minor inconveniences start screeching for my attention.

The radio has a commercial. The TV is slightly too loud. The lighting is too dim. Someone is talking to me about the weather.

JUST SHUT UP EVERYONE/THING/APPLIANCE.

Does this affect anyone else or am I just a giant asshole? I’m curious as to what minor inconveniences irritate you.

Okay I love you enjoy the bonfire of my heart.

FLASH POST! Driving Blind.

Quick post so I can go nappy-bye.

My frequent readers know that most my days are weird because I have my freak flag stapled to my chest BUT today had an extra sprinkle of “hmm…how unusual.”

I woke up in a shit mood because I had love dreams and I woke up and didn’t have a love reality. I didn’t feel so hot between a headache and my morning acid reflux so I threw back some alka seltzer and made a coffee (I’m REALLY GREAT at balancing acids and anti-acids!). I don’t remember getting dressed but I was in my car, peeling out on some wet leaves, burping up some hot remains of whatever acid I ate before bed.

It was rainy while I was driving to work so I had my new windshield wipers swishing. SWISH swish SWISH swish SWISH swish SWICCRRRRKKKKKKKKKKKKK.

My driver’s side windshield wipe cracked off and the jagged metal remains propelled it off into the road and under my back tire. GuhBUMbum.

I could see the car behind me crunching it under their tire. Cya later windshield wiper! RIP! Have a nice life! Drop me a line!

It was raining pretty heavily so I couldn’t stick my head out the driver’s side window. That and it’d get ripped off by the renegade MBTA buses they have Tokyo drifting in the streets. I’m pretty hunchy as it is (did I tell you a potential suitor asked if I had scoliosis? HE THOUGHT I HAD SCOLIOSIS) so I craned my neck to the passengers side.

I was in panic mode until I got to work, when I burst out laughing at the absurdity of annihilating my own new windshield wiper. Pulverized. Crunched to smithereens. Swish Swish Swish CLUNK annnndd there she gooooes goooodbyyyyeee!

Thankfully, I had my old wipers in the trunk in case of emergency. I spent 45 minutes searching YouTube for videos until I just read the (5) steps in the instruction manual- 3 of which include making sure you shut your car off before you run yourself over.

I changed it, crisis averted, christ has risen or something.

It was horrifying not being able to see or even pull the car over. That being said I’m really sorry if your pet cat, dog, or maybe even your husband don’t return home tonight, I forgot to check my wheel wells. My panic mode shuts down my peripheral vision and I’m pretty sure I was chanting something in Sanskrit. But I’m ALIVE and changed my own wiper because I’m big and strong.

OKAY! Flash post over. Thank you for reading.

k love you byyyee why do you always smell like bread?

Moving

I’m moving!

HOORAY.

But you already knew that because you read everyone single update I make and had it marked on your calendars just like me. You’re so thoughtful.

I’m starting my new job on Wednesday and I’m nervous and excited but mostly nervous wondering if they have a fridge I can keep my lunch in.

This week was also the Women in Comedy Festival in Boston! I didn’t get to go to any of the shows but I did get to go to a workshop which was great and it was nice talking to other comedians and writers. Turns out we have a lot of the same irrational fears about not posting enough on Twitter.

I also cut all my hair off! I was getting anxious about it always hanging down my back, that if I didn’t cut it soon I would end up taking matters into my own hands and giving myself a whiffle. Things didn’t get that extreme but maybe someday.

Anyways, here’s to trying to back 20 years of living in the same place into a suitcase that can only hold 35lbs.

ciao gringos

❤ Lo

 

Radio Silence or Something Like That. Also Big News.

Hey kids!

The blog had to take a hiatus for a while because my laptop started a rebellion and only wanted me to look at its artwork. It’s really into using blocky, abstract pixels and is currently going through what looks like a yellow phase. I’m guessing it’ll be looking into getting some gallery shows soon.

Also the washing machine started to do some performance art and midway through a cycle released it’s watery-underbelly onto my basement floor. It was reminiscent of “Poseidon Adventure” but it’s still a beginner and beginner’s have to work through that weird beginner-y phase for a while. I believe in it though.

In BIGGER news, I’m finally getting a piece published on McSweeney’s!

I’ll post all the information when it goes live in a couple weeks.

This is a big deal for me as I’ve never had anything professionally published before AND it’s fricken McSweeney’s.

One of my teachers through the Second City said that the average amount of tries it takes to get on their “Lists” page is about 5. It took me upwards of 30, so don’t worry. If I can do it, SO CAN YOU! *shoots confetti cannon*

This also means I have at least SOMETHING in my writer’s portfolio that is validated.

Speaking of jorbs and stuff, I’ve been diligently looking for new work. I’ve applied to everything from mail clerk to phone sex operator. I’ll keep you posted on any new hits, but I think my phone sex operator career isn’t going to take off the way I thought it was. Someday.

Until then, BYE

Lolo von Finallypublishedsomethingthatisntterriblebergsteingirlman