Can Hardly Use PhotoShop

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I made this masterpiece for you guys. I don’t own any of the above images that I smashed together.

If you didn’t hear, there’s a new Furby out called Furby Boom. They had a cute advertisement but I think mine’s cuter.

GOW4LYF.

$19 In My Bank Account

Have you ever gone shopping and just completely disregarded your budget and bought the soundtrack to Disney’s Frozen? and some mascara? and a KitKat bar?

Strange, ME TOO!

Looks like we’ll both be staying home and watching reruns* of The Wire on our laptops in our mothers’ house. (*Reruns is the new term for “has been renting each season’s DVD set at the local library.” Speaking of which, can you even rent from a library you are not local to? They got rules about that shit.)

While we’re in our homes this weekend, watching our reruns, we can also SELL A BUNCH OF STUFF ON THE INTERNET! In preparation of my move (as mentioned in a previous post, which I’m SURE you’ve read) I’ve been packing up my precious items and discarding items that I know longer need/won’t fit in the UHaul. Need a children’s jewelry box? How about 4 of them? No? We just keep discovering how alike we are! I have an impressive snow globe collection, books, and clothes. Sorry, not giving away my stuffed animals, if I ever need to barricade my door from and intruder or need to choke serial killer, then I’d be really up a creak without a Build-a-Bear. (Thank God I have 6.)

Well my charlatans, it’s bedtime! I’ll let you know if I find some coins in the sofa or behind the washing machine. We can go get ice cream, my treat!

K, love you, bye.

DAY 13! Blog Challenge.

Hi my sweet little mangoes.

Did you think I would abandon my dedication to this blog challenge?

You did? Me too…oh well! Here’s number 13.

My earliest memory.

I remember lying in a crib during a house party. I was probably 1-2 years old. That’s about it. *sets off fireworks*

Other than that I remember playing with our Fisher Price Little People Parking Garage while listening to “We are the Champions” on repeat. That and Alvin and the Chipmunks covers of Tom Jones songs.

Seems fitting as to how I turned out now.

***

In other news, I’ve been riding on a rainbow wave of comedy lately.

I went to my first open mic. I didn’t perform but I stayed to observe. Not as scary as I thought it was. Even the people who didn’t get laughs were treated well. No pitchforks or torches.

Brian Regan is coming to a venue nearby so maybe I’ll get to meet him. WHO KNOWS. When I got to meet Bill Burr I slobbered all over myself and gushed about all the things he doesn’t care about. But it was a fun experience. I don’t know why I think I don’t get starstruck. Me not sure if thart sketence waz kurect?

Oh well.

Until next time, my thunder babies!

Ghosts and Things

Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Describe the ghosts that live in this house: Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North – made available under Attribution 2.0 Generic

I’ve never done one of these inspiration prompts, so pull up your bootstraps, Sally.

This ghost clearly has self-esteem issues. Do you see how tiny that house is? If it was a lego house it was be 3X5 blocks. It doesn’t even look like there is enough room for a bed. Sure, if the point is to scare people out,  but this isn’t even going to be a challenge. All he has to do is be like YO. GET DA FUQ OUT and people would be like “Oh my God! Look at how small this place is, it doesn’t even have central air!” (Runs away in horror).

Why doesn’t he move to an old abandoned manor with a lot of libraries in it and fireplaces he can start up? That would be spooky. He could vanish through walls and breeze by his victims but only enough that they see him in their peripheral. He can’t even play games like that in the little house. He just has to sit there on the floor waiting for someone to look in the doorway and see what a shit-hole it is that they’ll show themselves out. They won’t even see Barney Ghostman hanging out playing cats cradle with a spider web.

Lazy. It’s lazy ghostmanship.

Dude, Where’d My Face Go?

Hey my Cabbage Patch Squids,

I think I may be having an identity crisis, but mainly just at my gym.

Every time I walk in and buzz my little card at the scanner, I get greeted with “HEY! You haven’t been around lately!” by one of the staff members. What? No! I was here yesterday and you said the same thing to me then. Maybe they’ve mistaken me for someone else? I smile and lie “I know, right?!” and I head over to the boxing area.

“Hello! How are you?!” asks a lovely woman I’ve maybe smiled at once or twice when she looked in my general direction.  Is she talking to me? She’s staring at me. Maybe she remembers me from the last thirty sessions we’ve had together? I haven’t answered her yet. Oh God. “Um, hi! Good! How are you?” Maybe she does remember me and she’s being friendly. There are a lot of new people here today.

“How’s your shop doing?” she asks as she wraps up her hands. I don’t have a shop, do I? Did I tell her I had a shop? Have we spoken before? Is there a woman who looks exactly like me and coincidentally comes into boxing every time I’m not there and talks about her shop? I wonder what kind of shop it is. Does she sell doughnuts or scarves? Thankfully the instructor started shouting drills at us so I couldn’t answer, and I made sure to ignore and avoid all eye contact for the next 45 minutes of class.

As the instructor was calling out drills, I saw him do a double take of me out of my peripheral. Oh Lord, unwanted conversation in three…two…

“Hey! How are you doing? You’ve been out lately.” Guh. No I haven’t. Who are you people? Who am I? What’s happening here?

I just kept smiling and answering his questions of my whereabouts. “Oh, you know,  just busy.” Nope, I’ve been here the past three days. Right there, on that treadmill and over there on the yoga mat and right here, right now for my example tomorrow when you don’t realize who I am. This does bring attention to all the times he called all the other girls names out in class and then stared at me and said “and you.”

It began to dawn on me that maybe I’m just another face in the crowd, easily mistaken for anybody and everybody else. “I just saw your sister!” I don’t have a sister. “How was the swim meet?” I don’t own a bathing suit. I’m beginning to see myself as a body with one of those fencing masks on. Nothing distinguishable, nothing unique.

But I am, I am! I yell in my mirror as I outline my lips with black lip liner and toss glitter into the air. I’m different! Look, a big nose! And look, a lazy eye! How are these things not jumping out at you? I mean, my nose is practically touching your face, sniffing all those little invisible hairs.

I think my quarter-life crisis has been rearing it’s over/underqualified, resume-hating, attention-wanting head.

Montgomery Whiskers, Esquire: A Monologue

Today as I sit at my desk, I am Montgomery Whiskers, Kitten-at-Law. My friends call me Monty, but then again, I have no friends. My hard work pooping in my briefcase and throwing up behind the radiator has led to many of them behind bars at the Happy Tails Kennel, a maximum security facility. No blankets, no squeaky toys, no wet food. I hate to see them go, but it’s either them… or me. Tony Two-Paws was my most recent case. Caught trading nip to some little minx in the back alley behind the Fish Market. It’s a sick world out there, I’ll tell ya. But somebody’s gotta keep these streets clean. (Slams clenched paw on desk, composes self, straightens necktie)