two days… TWO DAYS!!!

Two days into my “blog a day for 30 days” pledge and I DIDN’T PUBLISH A BLOG! The only thing that’s stupid about this – other than the fact that I’m addressing my little flub it at ALL… I mean, I know there’s a lot of actually important shit happening in the world and I DEFINITELY am not blogging about that today – is that I could have literally published a blog that read “BLOG A DAY? HERE YA GO, YA RUMP ROASTS.” It’s literally just a matter of typing SOMETHING and then hitting ‘Publish.’ Yep. THAT’S how lame I am at this game. So I won’t even provide an excuse. It simply didn’t happen.

But I’m here now. I’m writing to say hello, that you’re pretty (but maybe up your flossing frequency, ‘kay?), and that this video of a slow loris absolutely BASKING in the glory of a wee-tiny umbrella will make you shit your MIND!!! Hey… if I don’t have anything to say, I might as well share videos that fill me with glee and delight. And which will perhaps also cause you to shit your mind. I DON’T KNOW, I CAN’T PREDICT THIS THINGS WITH 100% ACCURACY! But I’m pretty sure I’m on point with this one.

Hey, guys! I’m looking for a J-O-B! If you know of a good one – or really, just… ONE… tellllll mama. And have a most glorious day. Read the news. Do good things. Be better than you were yesterday. That’s what’s actually important. Silly blogs like mine are really just mental cherry tomatoes on your SO HILARIOUS I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S JUST SALAD of life! Really… salad is HILARIOUS, amirite???

women laughing while eating salad

Missing pieces

Lately I’ve been feeling the urge more strongly to use the few meager artistic talents I have for good. Or perhaps I should say I’ve realized how I’d like to once again feel comfortable saying I HAVE any artistic talents, and given my long hiatus from the world of regular long and challenging rehearsals, I can’t really say my CURRENT talents amount to much beyond an ability to reminisce.

So Jamesdad* invited me to join his band and I accepted. We’re called “Egyptian Cotton.” We’re a covers band.
Okay, that’s a lie. We don’t have a name. And we’ve agreed to have some cover songs in our arsenal in case we’re needing a break from Jamesdad’s songs, but that’s about it. Honestly, given how splendidly our improv jam session went tonight wherein I scorned Jamesdad’s lyrical love lines in favor of “Mr. Herbie the squishy cat that has my heart because he is squishy,” I’m not sure covers will ever much be needed.

In other news, my cat has become grossly fat so I’ve put her on a diet. Day 2 and she still looks like a cross between Shamu and Jaba the Hut. Oh well. Baby steps. I, on the other hand have – NO SHIT – gained 10 pounds in the last two months!!! AMAZING!!! Looking at me, you’d think I’d descended from a long line of pudding cups. Not a good look, I tell ya.
Maybe I should be more upset or stressed about it, but honestly, I’m just… not. I recently left my job and am actually HAPPY about me for the first time in so long. Apparently this happiness has cause me to become delusional, and so I am easily assured when I hear friends say things like “eh, 10 pounds in two months? Yeah, me too. You’re fine. If you gain it fast, you can lose it fast.” Hahaha I have no idea if Rinn’s* logic is even close to true, but I’m happy enough to NOT CARE. Sounds good to me. And my pants still fit, so at least I can not care wilst rocking trousers, should I opt for that route. (Being unemployed, though, does mean a lot more no-pants time. It’s kiiiind of awesome. No pants dance off for dayyyyyys!)
I think it’s great when friends say “oh, you’ve gained weight? I can’t tell at all!” because maybe they need their eyes checked. But my personal belief as to why friends say that is because THEY DON’T CARE. It’s not their problem. They aren’t worried about it. They aren’t worried about you. If they were, they’d (hopefully) say something.
You know, for as many lives as obesity and starvation/malnutrition claim every single year, I truly hope we can get to a point of tactfully and constructively addressing weight issues with our peers. It’s not hard with cigarettes – virually all of my smoking friends take their breaks with the seemingly-obligatory ‘gonna go whittle away at my life span’ with the non-smoking friends saying ‘when are you gonna quit?’ – why is it harder with food?? I barely know anyone who’s quit smoking cold turkey, and I similarly know virtually nobody who has lost weight or beat anorexia by “just quitting.” Maybe someday we’ll get a Nicorette patch for eating issues. In the meantime, I’m glad my friends trust me to get correct enough to deny any awareness to my sudden increased buoyancy. You guys are the TITTIES.

Here’s to taking care of you, even if it means accidentally becoming a temporary stand-in for the marshmallow monster from Ghostbusters!

*a nickname, clearly

Not all insomnia is bad

So people who know me well know that I often suffer from… difficulty going to sleep. I’ve never looked up the technical definition of insomnia (do I have the internet? UM, DUH. DIS MAH BLOG. PULL UP A CHAIR AND STAY A WHILE. does having internet mean I’m gonna google it? QUIZAS. I will google the shit outta some shit IF googling it is for my own learning. If it’s so that you can learn through me, then NO. I WILL NOT GOOGLE IT. If you feel the need to learn the technical definition of insomnia, google it. And on the way, please get off my ballz kthxiwasusingthose.) So, I’m sure if I ACTUALLY have insomnia. I have more… sleep ninjaism. YEP. Mark THAT with a B, kids, cuz it’s reeeeal. See, sleep is what I was always supposed to do when I was a kid. Seeing as I was extremely nerdy and too fascinated by bad behavior to try and pull it off (someday, I’ll tell you about the time the drug awareness kids came to school and then I promptly ran home and tried sniffing Elmer’s non-toxic glue for HOURS in the hopes of getting ‘high.’ Even without the story, I think it’s obvious why/how documentaries became my drug of choice), fighting sleep – as if doing so was somehow evidence of a superhuman power I possessed – became my mission and passion. Always – as evidenced by the fact that I’M NOT DEAD – sleep ultimately won. But I put up some gooooood fights.

Sometimes, people who are aware of my sleep ninjaism implore me “MASTER NINJA NON-GO-TO-SLEEPER, WHY??? HOW??? WHO IS ON FIRST???” and sometimes I have good answers. Like, “cuz I was too busy dancing.” Or… “cuz I got taken down the rabbit hole of BBC World News and now I can spell AND pronounce little-known (in the U.S. cuz we DUMMMM) world leaders – BOOM! YOU JEALOUS!” Other times, my reasons are lame. Like “because I had that stupid Lady Gaga song stuck in my head. I tried to eat enough mac n’ cheese to make it go away but now I’m just overfull AND mad AND I’M STILL AWAKE GARRRFGSGHUJSH.” See? LAME. But it’s happened before. True story*.

Tonight (and I reserve the right to edit this blog later because a. IT’S MINE and b. because I know as well as anyone that late-night writing may, for some, be a more creative time, but it’s rarely the most soundly edited.), I am awake and blogging because 1. my cat wouldn’t stop licking my arm and so I am in pain, and 2. I had an idea for the blog.

LADIES AND GENTIES, IMMA WRITE A BLOG EVERY DAY FOR A MONTH. Wow. It’s scarier to write that than it is to lay awake and laugh about it.

You might say “Bitch, you DUMB. It’s already damn-near halfway through MARCH! Wow. Thanks for the ol’ heads up on ‘Blog of the Day APRIL!.” But then that makes YOU the bitch. Because, see, here’s the thing: MY BLOG. MY RULES. 30 days. Starting now. I’m gonna do the best I can to blog every single day so that you ‘get to’ hear/read about how horribly snide and judgmental I am about most things, while attempting to maintain an open mind and while being inspired and loving life and all kinds of shit SPESHLEE IF IT HAS GLITTER BECAUSE OH MY GOSH I LOVE MYTHICAL BEASTS AND GLITTER! Really, though, as stupid as some things are, my friends keep having babies and when those babies aren’t being bad, I sure do love the shit outta them and loving life is sooooo easy. When the babies start getting all cry-ie and shit, that’s when you LEAVE and you go enjoy things like double rainbows and inside jokes.

Anyway, my only goal with the Month of Overshare is to walk away from MOO LIKE A BOSS. This is what “like a boss” looks like in case you need a visual. FYI.

like a boss

S0. Here’s to my New Month wheneverisayitsthemonthbiatch Resolution. And to all you readers out there, keep on doing things that are actually important. This is just a blog. Honestly.

*It’s always important for you, dear reader, to know that I am absolutely TERRIBLE at lying. I mean, I know no worse liar in the world. Seriously. I blame “Fajitagate.” But that’s another story…

Inception – part deux

For a while, I had myself thinking the “That’s what she said” meme couldn’t be topped.  Maybe it hasn’t been.  I’m not sure.  It’s late and I’m tired.  But, given those facts, I found this hilarious:

new stuff, good stuff, stuff stuff

I’ve been working on some posts, but mama’s BUSY.  In the meantime, I really feel that nothing says “Friday” quite like a good ‘that’s what she said’ joke.  So.  You go ahead and GUESS what day it is.

Honestly, if Inception gave me any more of a cloner when I saw it, I think I’d be dead from lack of blood flow to the rest of my appendages.  I don’t care if there were holes.  I don’t care if it was eerily similar to a comic/graphic novel (I don’t think they’re the same thing, I just can’t remember which genre was accusing Nolan of the ripoff) that’s been out for decades.  I’m like that wacky bear/cat/camp kid/robot from the EVO vs. iPhone4 video.  I DON’T CARE.  INCEPTION GAVE MY MOVIE-LOVING SIDE WHAT IT MUST HAVE.  Which meant that I got a cloner.  WIN-WIN.

Back online

True story:  I went down to LA with some homies to try and do this thing, and I thought we might do the thing, and the thing made me sign about 987665196816654 pages of confidentiality agreements and “you’d better tell us if you’re secretly an asshole fuck-up – ESPECIALLY on the internet,” so I took the blog down for a hot minute to appease them (and calm my own nerves).   But we’re back online, folks.  All systems go.

I can’t help mahself

It’s been a WHILE since I first saw this “Ads for Men” video [and wanted to sit next to Mark Little just so I could drool while looking into his eyes, wishing he’d make jokes just for me].  I still can’t stop laughing about it, though!  I mean, I have never seen ANYTHING karate kicking the statue of liberty in the tit!  I AM prepared to be SO FUCKING SHORN!  I think I want to be married and buried to this.*

*I don’t particularly care about getting married and I definitely don’t want to be buried.  I want to be impaled by a narwhal and hauled down to the bottom of the ocean for my farewell.  After all my usable parts have been harvested, of course.