Few things are worse than a gummy eraser covered in hair

Actually, that's not true. A gummy eraser that's covered in hair and also has rogue bits of tobacco in it would be much worse. Is much worse. Believe me. I know.


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I've been thinking a lot about life, lately. Not really in the existential, "why do we exist in the universe" way, though. I never really had the time for all of that lofty nonsense. Nor the energy, or even the patience for it, honestly.

No, I've been thinking about life in terms of what it means to have it, what people choose to do with theirs, if anyone under the age of 50 is actually aware that it has an expiration date, and why I feel as though mine is pulling that bullshit where it seems to go so much faster, the less there is, like sand in a (... shit. What the fuck are those called? Sand clocks? Curvy desert watches? The things that tell you when everyone has to stop in Scattergories?).... I'm sure it'll come to me eventually....

But yes. Those are my current dilemmas surrounding the vague as hell concept of "life" (also, I can't possibly express how nice it is to type the word "hell" and not have to delete and then retype it at least three times before I'm able to keep it from becoming "he'll,").

You know, I spend so much time worrying about grades, or money, or the fact that I've been procrastinating on getting my car's alignment taken care of, that I-

HOURGLASS. It's hourglass. That's the word. That's what I was trying to come up with. Haha, fucking "sand clock".

.... As I was saying, I spend so much time stressed to the nines about pointless(ish) bullshit that I end up taking far too many things for granted. But my awareness of that doesn't change the fact that every time I get into my car, I pause to consider if I'm able to take her to the shop that day, decide that I'm far too busy and will do it tomorrow, and then have a brief but well-deserved guilt party because of it. Yes, I know that I have somewhere to live, am getting a college education, have amazing friends and family and a reliable car and a gas stove so I can make s'mores from my kitchen. My life is somewhat stellar, usually. So why is it that I can be both grateful and super stoked about all of those wonderful things, but still have mild moments of panic and frustration because an extra (and quite unexpected) bill or two showed up at my door and my bank account was quite precariously balanced already?

I mean, shit, there are so many people (it's tragic, there are so many people that I know personally) that are in crisis mode, or at least have their foot in the door of a meltdown. I feel for all of them, and am glad to help or offer support in any way that I'm able. Unfortunately, my unconditional offer of support for the people that are important to me won't keep me from worrying about Honda pulling a little to the left, or from feeling like a total dick immediately after my guilt party.
Love, love, love.
-L

Take out your suck it and you SUCK IT! (Suck it!) SUCK IT! (Suck it!)

Do you ever have one of those exhausting days where you feel like everyone is conspiring against you, and that people secretly feel generally annoyed whenever you walk into a room, and no matter what you do in or with your life you'll be wrong? And then, if you even CONSIDER talking to anyone about these odd, unfounded thoughts they choose the moment you approach them to talk about this whiny friend of theirs, or how needy this or that person is, or how busy/irritated/exhausted beyond the point of caring about anything they are? So then you just isolate yourself, feeling bad for doing so but knowing that being around people would make you feel even more upset, despite there being no reason at all for thinking/feeling the way you do?

Well, I never have days like that. And if I did, today most CERTAINLY wouldn't be one of them. And if it were, I would NEVER passive-aggressively moan and groan about it on my blog.***

Anytime I find myself feeling upset about nothing in particular (and, often, when I actually have a reason for being upset) I end up feeling guilty about it. Not the, "I just stabbed and buried a man that I thought was trying to kill me, and then found out he was just coming to give me a hug and tell me I'm awesome" kind of guilty. Just the, "I have a place to live, food, friends and dogs that love me, a cat that has yet to murder me in my sleep, a nice car, and am able to continue going to college full-time, so what the fuck is my problem" kind of guilty.

I suppose I ought to paint a lot and drink a little (wait, reverse that) and try to get out of my head (without the use of hallucinogens, of course).


I've decided to post a list of things that make me feel better when I'm being ridiculous like this. Maybe, hopefully, I can help pull someone else out of a similar, pointless funk.

-I love Bjork. She's hysterical, and an incredible musician. One thing that I love slightly more than Bjork is when people do impressions of Bjork. The best I've seen so far is right here.

-One of my FAVORITE comedians is a man named Dylan Moran. He has some awesome stand up that you can find around the internet, but his best work (in my opinion) is a series he wrote and starred in. It's called Black Books, and it's absolutely hysterical. The first episode isn't the best ever, but every episode has something to offer.

-Web comics make me happy, too. I have two that are my absolute, without a doubt favorites. There's Rock, Paper, Cynic, which is always one panel with brilliant text.  The other is Darwin Carmichael is Going to Hell. It's more story-oriented, so it's best to start at the beginning of that one. But it's awesome. My favorite is Skittles, the manticore.

Okay, that's enough for now. I'm going to listen to some Dylan Moran stand-up and find my art stuff. Though finding the sites for all of my favorite things (in order to link them) has made me feel much better already.

I promise, my next post will be FAR more entertaining than the past two. Happy Wednesday!

***These three statements are entirely untrue. 

Zombies of the canine persuasion.

Holy hell, changes are exhausting.

I've recently quit my shady boring crap job as a(n) underpaid taken for granted unappreciated illegally compensated office manager, have started attending classes full-time at GSU, and am looking for a bartending job (though I have one that I should be able to start in October, fingers crossed). All of this change has just worn me the fuck out, so apologies for not being around as often.

I find myself jotting things down throughout the day that I want to discuss here, and yet I lack the time, energy, or mindset to expand upon them. Fortunately for me, I can write whatever the hell I want here, so suck it. Or just, you know, feel free to expand upon whatever yourself. See? I'm encouraging you to take some creative initiative. You're welcome.

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Upon discussing obscene and/or favorite phrases and slanderous names with a friend, one came up that I had never heard. 

*Side note: A few favorites of mine would be: "Jesus H. Tap-Dancing Christ," from The Blues Brothers; "ass-goblin" from my ridiculous childhood; "douche-canoe" from the darling Jenny, The Bloggess; and old reliable, "fuck," from my dad/grandparents when they're driving or watching football (okay, okay, Gram isn't one for cursing during football. And she usually only says "fuck" in the car if Grandpa is the one driving).*

It would seem the only reason I had never heard this turn of phrase was because I don't watch that comedian that people all love to hate... ugh... what the fuck is his name? He was in Waiting, and other nonsense. He's all loud... Okay, whatever. I can't think of his name off-hand and I'm already late leaving for dinner with my family, so you guys just guess and remind me. Anyway, the expression was "Satan's asshole." I found it wildly amusing, having never heard it before. Then my charming friend said they had one better. 

In keeping with the religious theme of Satan's asshole, he said his favorite offensive expression was, "Jesus Christ on a stick with BBQ sauce". As I sat there, visualizing Jesus Christ (or, at least, the most propagated image of him) on a stick, with Jack Daniel's BBQ sauce all over his nice linen robe and a horde of starving cannibals surrounding him (cannibals which may or may not have been zombies), I started wondering if that hadn't been the plan all along. The Romans were considered the masters of the known world, once upon a time. What if they wanted to eat Jesus, just because he was considered a deity? The idea isn't that off the wall, is it? I mean, we massage our cows. We eat things that are exotic or dangerous and potentially fatal just to prove that we're the most badass species (or so we think) on the planet. What if the Romans just wanted to taste the "lamb of God"?

"Yeah, it's funny because 'on a stick' is like the cross, you know, and then he's covered in BBQ sauce, heh heh heh," was the sentence that broke my concentration. 

Okay, I have to run to dinner and try to nonchalantly take a photo of my dad making a zombie face. It's a long story. I'll explain later.