FEET

I finally finished Six Feet Under and now I’m depressed.

I don’t know where to go from here. I finished the X-Files, Twin Peaks, The Sopranos, and now I’m just sitting here just me and my acid reflux gurgling at the blank TV screen. I started the L Word but I think I accidentally ruined the series for myself by, you know, being on the internet. WAH. I’ve watched a few True Detective episodes but they fricken mumble everything so I have to watch it on full volume with the closed captioning on. I’m also caught up on the Walking Dead.

If you have any suggestions for my next big adventure, please LET ME KNOW.

In other news, I got a pH strip put under my tongue and it nearly disintegrated in my mouth. With a diet of coffee and onion bagels, I can’t imagine why. I’m told if I eat more “vegetables” than it would even out. I might just eat more pH strips and see what happens.

In other, other news, I finally got into my alma maters literary journal. I think it might have been a pity publish but I’ll take it. I’ll link it once it comes out officially. You could totally buy a hard copy too and have it as a treasure forever and think about me and kiss it and stroke its spine.

Okay, I’m tired, I’ve been sitting in the same spot for 4 hours.

K LOVE YOU BYE TOOT TOOT!

I Guess I Should Talk About My Resolutions

It’s that time of year again where we all puff out our waxed and buffed chests and scribble our noble resolutions in cherry scented Mr. Sketch markers for everyone to see and sniff! Amiright?

Last year I only made one resolution, which was to say “yes” to more opportunities… even if I wasn’t 100% on going/doing/whatevering them. It worked out pretty well, aside from me saying “yes” to a Nordstrom Credit Card and “yes” to the $300 Classique Entier jacket and “yes” to the cashier when she asked if I wanted to use my Triple Points.

Buuuuuut I also said “yes” to my lovely new car and “yes” to quitting my unfulfilling job and “yes” to moving out of my childhood home and “yes” renting my first apartment.

                                     Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. yes.

I have no recollection of 2013. I think it was a year of stillness: Going to a mind numbing job everyday, coming home and sitting on my couch for the rest of the night, and growing unhealthier in mind, body, and spirit by the second. 2014 was the year of watching The X-Files and Twin Peaks and The Sopranos. A lot of healing through binge watching television shows. In 2014 I also stopped being completely sedentary and upgraded to walking to the garbage can to throw  my chocolate wrappers away instead of leaving them all over my chest for my mother to brush off. Thanks Ma!

Play that chocolate like a harmonica, baby.

For 2015 I think it’s time to be a more proactive and forthright with my writing goals and getting more pieces published. I know what I want and what I can achieve but I just don’t apply the effort. I’m still not done with The Sopranos and I just started Six Feet Under, so I might have to take a HBO On Demand hiatus and work on my shit instead of the other way around. I wonder if I’m either the antithesis or the prime example of a young, anxious writer. I psych myself out of writing on certain topics because I think “why would anyone want to read this?” Meanwhile, I’m on the most butthole boring websites until 2AM, reading anything I can.

    Here I am enjoying my morning coffee after 3 hours of sleep.

I also think I’ll be giving more. I never really understood how much I was supported until I moved out of my house. I can work myself up in a tizzy worrying about protecting my money, while completely ignoring the fact that just like most things, there’s an ebb and flow. You have to be willing to release to receive.

Also, I’ll be proofreading my posts before I submit them. HOORAY!

SO, my pretty little babies…What are your resolutions, goals, and/or dreams for 2015? I WANNA KNOW!

Okay, love you forever remember not to stick your hand down the disposal!

Death Becomes Her. (I’m Referring to Myself When I Say Her. I’m Her. Death Becomes Me.)

Everyone harbors special talents that really may serve no purpose except to entertain ourselves. Bragging is unattractive, but I can eat 4 pieces of Texas Toast and sit through 3 seasons of the Sopranos without blinking/exhaling/contemplating my mortality and misguided life choices.

Among giant bread scarfing, filtering my identity out of photos, and mouth breathing, I do have one hidden talent that has remained hidden, as to not frighten the kids/my mom/your nana+papi. ESPECIALLY, your nana+papi. I don’t know if that’s a real word people use for their grandfathers or if I’ve just been exposed to JLO too early in my life to know any difference.

Back to my talent, or maybe it’s more of a condition, but I  have a knack for predicting when someone is about to feel the dank kiss of death. Sometimes days before, sometimes months before they die. DON’T X OUT YET. I have a pretty solid record of being right about it. I can’t name names specifically (at least not usually) but I can tell if male/female, age range, and what type of relationship I have to them. Kind of like those cats that walk around hospitals and snuggle with the old people who are about to die.

WEIRD, RIGHT?

Feel free to ask questions. It’s weird and I don’t even really understand it, but that’s like most secret abilities and gifts, I suppose.

Normally, I would have never shared this on here but it happened when a distant relative died this past week and I was thinking about how I still hadn’t come up with a post for the week. HEHE.

Alright kids, enjoy your Monday!

Love,

Lolo von Iseedeadpeoplebutnotreallythatdbeweirdasshitsteinbergsongirl

P.S. Enjoy this picture of Peaches.

Image

Fake Face, Day 30

Hey Kling-dongs. 

That’s my new brand of plastic wrap with cartoon dicks all over it. To be used to cover the left over deviled eggs at your bachelorette party. 

Do people like deviled eggs? They seem like a staple at family parties. You see them arrive in their special little caddy but you never actually see people eating them. BUT, the mystery–there are never any left over because Uncle Marty throws his hands in the air and goes “awww who ate all the deviled eggs?!” and everyone laughs, except for Aunt Edy because she and Uncle Marty had a falling out years ago, in which Marty forgot about, but Edy still shoots stingy remarks about Marty under her breath to any female relative in near proximity. No one likes Edy, she should just let it go. 

But I digress. 

DAY 30.

BLOG CHALLENGE.

QUESTION: What’s in your makeup bag? (revs blow torch, lowers mask)

As a person who dumps more money into Sephora than should be legally allowed, you’d think I’d be able to talk about all the super great things I have in my 5 different makeup bags that turn me from 8 year-old boy to 40-something drag superstar. But alas, I’m still trying to pull off  the “She’s All That” look before she actually turns “All That.”

So why do you need 3 different gold eyeliners for all those New Year’s parties you’re not going to? BECAUSE.

What about this $50 smokey eye palette? I NEEDED it and Pinterest gave me a vague idea of how to use it, so leave me alone I just want to rock the two black eyes that gorilla gave me when he punched me at the zoo. 

I enjoy makeup, but anything above “you don’t look completely dead” makes me feel like a clown. Everything in moderation. Except for things with sugar in them. You can have extra of that. 

Anyways, new topic, I have half an episode left of the X-Files and the last movie before that chapter of my life comes to a close. It’s bittersweet because X-Files was a crutch for me, BUT I mentioned that I would be starting some new (relative term) shows like Twin Peaks, The Sopranos, The Wire, etc. AND GUESS WHAT? I got a request from a lo-lite (my nickname for anyone who has ever enjoyed any of my humor in any capacity) to live-tweet my thoughts on Twin Peaks. The idea that anyone would want my opinion or reaction to anything is extraordinarily flattering. SO THANK YOU!

ONE MORE DAY LEFT OF THE BLOG CHALLENGE! 

Lolo signing off.

Until next time, my Quispy Queens.