But then I mean, who doesn't, right? Right?

If I call these Vignettes does it sound fancier?

     Basically let's just take a look at some of the weird unexplained crap on my phone and make it weird explained crap. Yeah? Yeah. 

     In case you were curious what I'd look like if I dyed my hair purple, the answer is "an alien hooker from the moon." Glad we could clear that up! Amanda had dug out her purple wig from Halloweens past for some reason, then asked if I wanted to try it on. Girl you know I wanna try on all the wigs. Have we even met? 

     Basically my life in a nutshell. Or my life in a Tumblr error message, as it were. 

     My current favorite Tea Party sign. And by favorite I mean FITS OF BURNING SEETHING RAGE. Like dudes, you can have more than one crisis at a time. Cause we definitely have lots of crises right now. And I'm not even sure this stance is consistent with your party views. Like if you actually go to the website listed on this very sign (I don't know what compelled me to do so -- journalistic integrity, let's call it? -- but it's exactly what you'd expect: a flashback to 1998 before we could do fancy internet things) there's a National Debt counter at the bottom of the page. So clearly they're at least a little concerned about debt. So I'm not sure how they're determining the threshold for when exactly something becomes a threat, here. Oh and don't worry, I wasn't driving when I took this picture, I was stopped waiting for a train to go through off to the right. 

     Hey, surprise, I still excel at getting videogame cars stuck in places that no one else could get stuck in even if they were trying! The best part is that you'd think I was driving up the stairs and got stuck on the corner, but nope. Fell from the sky and just nestled right in there after driving over another car and getting some big air.

Weird Thing Wednesday.

     I mean. That's pretty straightforward, right? It's Wednesday, let's look at this weird thing I bought. 

     It's a leetle bird skull pendant that I picked up at the craft store. I don't know why, it just spoke to me. Well, that's not true, I know why. It's because my greatest life goal is to look like a cool but kind of spooky witch. We all have our dreams. I slapped this puppy (birdy?) on a long chain so I can sling it on over a floaty dress with a kimono and get my hippie recluse on. 

Things are wrong with me.

     Like, lots of things. Big things (holla anxiety club!), little things. Ok, a lot of little things. Let's examine this for a second.

THING 1: I GET IRRATIONALLY ANGRY AT PEOPLE WHO SHUCK CORN IN THE STORE

     I can't even explain why this makes me so angry. They put a big bin by the corn specifically to accommodate these people. But it still infuriates me. It's one thing to peel back the husk a bit to make sure it's a good ear. It is completely another to stand there and shuck six ears of corn in the middle of Food Lion while everyone waits to get around you and pick their corn, which they will then shuck at home LIKE A DECENT HUMAN BEING. It's just such a weird thing to do! Do you peel your bananas in the store too, ya freak of nature?

THING 2: I AM INCAPABLE OF EATING A MCDONALD'S CHEESEBURGER NORMALLY

     This is apparently a thing I started doing when I was very, very young, and then just never grew out of, sort of like having an incredibly on-point startle reflex (I spend a lot of time looking like Edvard Munch's The Scream). It has to go pickles first, top bun, then burger. Bottom bun is garbage. When I was very little the bottom bun went to my grandparents' dog, but then he tried to rip my throat out, so he didn't get the bottom bun anymore after that because we were not friends anymore. It's only McDonald's burgers, too. A burger from literally any other place on earth gets eaten normally. Fortunately I pretty much only eat at McDonald's when I'm hungover, so people don't have to witness this spectacle of horror very often.

THING 3: ANIMAL SQUEAL OF DOOM

     I can't not shriek the name of an animal when I see one. It's another one of the ways in which I'm still at the developmental level of small child, I guess. Even when I'm driving. Even when I'm driving alone. Always. There will never be a time that I see a horse and don't squeal "pony!!!!" at a pitch un-hearable by any animal other than dogs, dolphins, bats, and old people with very sensitive hearing aids. Sometimes there is clapping involved. It is somewhat embarrassing.

This cake looks like shit.

     No literally. Because Amanda asked me to make a cake for her coworker/friend that looks like the smiling poop emoji. This is my life. These are my choices.

Normally I'd try to set up a nice shot with some natural lighting, but I mean. Come on. It's a poo cake. It's not gonna look any better or more appetizing on the credenza in the front room than smiling in the fridge. 

     Honestly, I'm kind of at a loss as to what else to say here. It's made of chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting? The eyes and mouth are white chocolate? WHAT DO YOU EVEN SAY ABOUT A THING THAT IS THIS.

What even?

     I've been having kind of a creative block so I thought I'd check the folder I have on my computer where I put things that I can't stop thinking about late at night. Supposedly it's good to get them down somewhere because then your brain can rest easy knowing you can pick it up another time. Except... I can't, because what even is this? Why was I so upset about this that I had to get it all out before I could sleep? Direct quote:

"I legitimately thought the lyrics to the Raffi "Peanut Butter Sandwich" song were "Peanut butter sandwich made with jam/ one for me and one for Uncle Sam" for the longest time. Like, whole life longest time. From childhood until a few months ago when Jen got the cd to play for the babies. I guess I just thought it was a cheery little pro-tax propaganda piece telling kids "hey, if you're making a sandwich make sure you make one for Uncle Sam, too, cause that's your civic duty." Now I find out it's actually "one for me and one for David Amram," who is...a composer, I guess? He didn't compose that song, that's for damn sure, so I'm not sure why he's in it. Now I don't know how to feel about it. When I thought we were making an extra sandwich for Uncle Sam I was kind of ok with it, like yeah it's kind of a pain but if you give Uncle Sam a peanut butter sandwich (made with jam) he will reciprocate with funding for roads and schools, and hey that's a pretty ok deal. But this David Amram, what has he done for me lately? What has he done to merit a sandwich? Why would I just make him one for no reason? Because Raffi tells me to? If Raffi told me to jump off a bridge, would I? I mean, MAYBE? I think I only brush my teeth so obsessively because he told me to in a catchy tune, and my propensity for sharing definitely has a direct link back to that song I still hear every time someone looks at a soda or food item and says "Whose is this?" and I answer "It's mine. But you can have some." And that's all well and good I guess, you use your sorcery for good, Raffi. But I'm not making David Amram a sandwich. I don't even know him." 

So... yeah, next time maybe let's not go scraping the bottom of the barrel for inspiration. There is sticky weirdness down there.

Illustrated Tweet: Cheater Cheater Monkey Tweeter Edition!

     Ok, this is a cheater's edition because I actually didn't do any illustrating this time. I honestly just need some feedback on this one. I tweeted this the other day:

     And I WAS NOT JOKING. Not even in the slightest. I actually saved the picture to my desktop as "makeeveryonelookatthisandfreakout.jpg" because I needed other people to tell me if I was justified in being so disturbed by this damn monkey. So here it is. LOOK AT IT. IT IS SO MESSED UP. Why is it so human-looking and stretched out but simultaneously so much a monkey and so hairy with its tiny little head? It haunts me. I can literally call this picture to mind in the middle of the day and get goosebumps on command. 

     So I need to know. Does this monkey disturb you? Or is it just a cute monkey doing yoga all cute-like, and I have issues? Don't worry about hurting my feelings if it's the latter, I already know I have issues. I'll just add "overly anthropomorphic monkeys" to the list. 

Apologies in advance...

... to whoever is going to send me an email some time in the future that I have apparently already deleted? That's obviously why I have negative one emails right now. I deleted one I haven't even gotten yet.

Total protonic reversal.

     Or maybe I shouldn't apologize because apparently the content of this future email is so incredibly dangerous that I either invented time travel myself in order to come back in time and delete it before I could read it and alter the timeline in some personally devastating fashion, or the Men in Black got word of it and came in and screwed around with my emails to prevent catastrophic and universal devastation. Which is pretty impressive because most of my emails are just Groupon offers and sale alerts from the Gap. Maybe I was going to buy a really, really tragic pair of pants? Like boyfriend jeans, maybe? And future me was like "girlfriend who are you kidding, no." I don't know. I guess I'll never know. 

Oh yes it's '80s night, and the feelin's right.

     So remember on Friday how I said I'd be doing something silly and taking pictures for you to laugh at over the weekend? Well Saturday was '80s night at a local bar, so me and Amanda got gussied up in our flashback finery and headed on over. She kind of put me to shame with her outfit (Jem and the Holograms sweatshirt, graphic print leggings, neon jellies, CRIMPED HAIR and neon makeup) but I think I still held my own (high waisted "mom" jeans turned shorty shorts, My Little Pony t-shirt with the old ponies, before they made them all skinny and weird [was disturbed to discover I own not one, not two, but THREE My Little Pony shirts -- what is my life], suspenders, pink high-tops, vintage earrings, and...well, for '80s hair I realized I didn't actually have to do anything different, since huge hair flipped to the side is my day-to-day look. That was...unsettling, but whatever. 

I like how we look like the day and night or good and evil versions of each other. That's a pretty accurate description of us, actually. 

     Here's a classic early 2000s style bathroom mirror selfie for you, just to throw an extra decade of nostalgia in there and show you my outfit. I guess I was going for more casual Teen Vogue '80s than Amanda's glam-rock '80s. Probably cause I'm lazy and didn't want to have to buy anything new for this outfit. You can kind of tell, too, because I could go out like this in Richmond and no one would even bat an eye. 

     And of course I would be cheating you all if I didn't share a shot of the majesty that was Amanda's outfit. 

     It is a thing to behold. Finally, let me just show you one last cool thing: 

     Glowing drinks! This one is Amanda's (if you couldn't tell from the crazy leggings at the bottom of the picture), since I don't really drink much anymore so I always volunteer for designated driver. It's not a moral thing, so don't worry, I'm not about to lecture you about the evils of alcohol, it's just that deep down I'm a little old lady and I'd rather sip on a ginger ale, have a nice time, then go home and wash my face and watch Golden Girls and check on my Animal Crossing town than go out and get drunk, then feel crappy the next day (and I always do when I drink even a little -- as my anxiety got worse over the years it gave me a weak stomach, so anything that makes me even slightly nauseated, I avoid like the plaaaague). Plus when Amanda gets drunk it's really humorous, so I like to be sober so I can clearly remember all the hilarious stuff she does and then tell everyone about it later (I'm a good friend). 

     Anyway, it was a pretty good use of a Saturday night, if for no other reason than I won Redneck Bingo pretty much the second I got out of the car (welcome to the country, folks).

Huh. That's interesting.

     I had a unique experience yesterday. I was trying to help Jen keep the babies happy so she could get some shopping done, but they were in rare form. As I stood there watching them scream bloody murder and flail about inconsolably because "AAAHHHH I'M TIRED AND I'M  NOT ASLEEP BUT I DON'T WANT TO SLEEP LIFE IS ULTIMATELY MEANINGLESS AHHHHH" or whatever, I had an actual pang in one of my ovaries that I can only imagine was my reproductive system recoiling in horror and saying "Nope, not anytime soon, not for me, no sir. Don't think so." Basically, this: 

Happy Thanksgiving!

The purpose of this post is twofold: First, I wanted to just do a quick little post to check in, since I know most of us are going to spend all of Friday recovering from our food comas anyway, so nobody wants to read a big long post about like, studding your ceiling fan or whatever. Second, I wanted to tell you what it's like inside my brain. The other day I woke up to find that at some point during the night I had added to the "Ideas" list I keep on my phone the item "turkey hunger games." I have no idea what that means. I have literally no recollection of adding it to the list at all. Sleepy me had just apparently thought "yes, that's enough information to remind waking-time-me of this perhaps brilliant idea" and left it at that. Hopefully it's not some kind of cryptic warning from a prophetic dream.

Way harsh, Facebook.

     I've noticed that the ads on my Facebook page have gotten increasingly insulting lately. Here's a few I had recently.

     I mean, Facebook has always kind of been like that one relative that's aggressively over-invested in why you're still single, and when are you going to get married because your eggs won't be good forever in case you didn't know, so tick tock. But I've only recently noticed it becoming a direct command -- GO ON A DATE! -- which is annoying first because DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO FACEBOOK, YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME, and second because it's kind of like when you tell someone you haven't been sleeping well, and then when you're saying goodbye they say "Bye, get some sleep!" like you're going to turn around all wide-eyed and astonished, and say, "My God, you're right! The answer's been right in front of me all along! Go to sleep! Brilliant!" Oh, you noticed that I'm gearing up for a life of spinsterhood, eh Facebook? You're right, I should just go on a date! Nevermind that there's no men within fifteen years of my age in the surrounding wasteland of cows and moonshine stills, I'll just go on a date. Maybe one of the cows will go with me. That solves that problem. I'll just burn this stack of cat adoption papers. The pairing of that ad with the one for bridal photography is both baffling and kind of pushy. Baffling because clearly it knows that I'm single (you know, because I post my status every weekend as "Baying at the moon. #foreveralone") and obviously I have no need for a wedding photographer. Pushy because hey, let's take things one step at a time, Facebook. It's a pretty big leap from "Go on a date!" to "Plan your nuptials!"

     The menstrual pain study ad is...unsettling, to say the least. Mostly because I'm pretty sure I've never actually said anything about my lady sicknesses on Facebook. Granted, anyone with a lack of more rewarding and less creepy hobbies could easily learn way more than they needed to about the state of my uterus based on the alarming regularity at which I suddenly spend a week tweeting things like "Million dollar idea: someone start a business where I can pay an hourly fee to sit and brush a miniature pony when I'm sad," but that's not even the same social network. 

     I guess, though, based on the last ad there for experimental treatment for bipolar disorder, maybe something about my profile just gives off an "unstable" vibe, and they figure I must either be hormonal as all hell or straight-up mentally ill. And that's probably why I'm still single, I guess? I dunno. But until Facebook gets it together and finds an advertising algorithm that's slightly less openly acrimonious, maybe I'll just start posting a bunch of statuses about puppies and world travel until it picks up on the keywords and brings me some ads that don't imply I'm a crampy bipolar recluse with no concept of appropriate relationship pacing. 

I'm not handling this time change very well.

In case you were wondering. 

I made a deal with the devil...

     ...my eternal soul for exceptionally pliable hair. Not really, but since the underlying theme of this week's posts seems to have inadvertently become "look at all the weird things I can make my hair do," I thought I'd finish out the week with a post about possibly my new favorite hairstyle: cat ears. 

     Yeah, I said it. I made cat ears with my hair yesterday for a low-key daytime Halloween look, and realized I totally loved it, being the weirdo that I am. With some faux rolled Bettie Page style bangs (that I ended up liking so much I actually cut my hair into Bettie Bangs for real), it was kind of a 1950s Catwoman situation, but if Catwoman was like, swinging by the vet for more flea and tick preventative and running some errands along the way on her day off. 

     To make these ears, all I did was section off two small ponytails on the top of my head, then twist each one until it coiled a bit in on itself, pin down the little hair nugget it forms (real talk, it totally looks like a cartoonish little pile of poo at this point), then untwist the remaining hair, comb it smooth, and kind of carefully fold it around the base-nugget-thingy until the angle looks right for a cat ear, then pin and hairspray like currazy. And done! I thought this was such a fun style, and not just because it reminded me of a particular villain from the Sailor Moon episodes I loved as a kid (and now, I won't lie). 

     But let's be honest, total style icon material right there. 

All they need are good friends, good fun...and a little time in the Harmony Hut!

     Today's illustrated tweet is brought to you courtesy of the Addams Family Values and Congressional incompetence. 

Technical Difficulties

     Ok, actually the "difficulties" part is really just that I'm fighting off a case of the blues right now, so it's been difficult to find motivation to do anything worth posting about, opting instead to get in my cuddly flannel pajamas and watch Practical Magic until I'm a little less sad. 

     But the "technical" part is that technically, I am accomplishing something worthwhile at the same time, because I'm putting my hair into teensy tiny rag curls as a test run of my Zuul hair for Halloween. Should be interesting to see what great heights it can reach in the morning, and you know I'll be showing you the results regardless of how it turns out. So look forward to that on Friday!

     

Ch-ch-changes!

     Ok, now that the obligatory Bowie reference is out of the way, let's get on with the post. Fall is the season of change, and thus, appropriately, I've been making a few little changes here and there lately. Let's take a look-see. 

1. I did this to my laptop.

Should maybe have added a warning to grab a bowl for when your eyeballs pop out.

      I dunno why. Cause I'm a grown-up now and I can put stickers on WHATEVER I WANT, I guess. I was just randomly struck with the urge to make my laptop look like it belonged to a third grader, so I covered it in ponies and Batman and sharks and Hello Kitty and cupcakes. Such is my life. I'll be mature in the ways I have to be (like being punctual and honest and responsible and shit) but you can pry my stickers and cartoons and sugary cereals from my cold, dead, sticky-from-recently-eating-candy hands. But this explosion of chid-like glee isn't the only thing I did to my laptop...

     (On a side note, if you're wondering why my reading lamp is turned upside down like that, it's because when I turned it on the other day the light bulb went out, and when I tried to change the light bulb, it turned to shards and dust-clouds in my hand, resulting in a big debacle in which I was pretty sure I was gonna die from accidentally breathing the powdery stuff they put inside light bulbs, and the coroner would be sure I was some delinquent trying to huff light bulb guts, and my family would live in shame forever. After that massive freak-out I kind of didn't feel like dealing with getting the remnants of the bulb out of the lamp, so for now it's just a decorative vase of glass shards hanging above my bed. Stylish.)

2. I replaced the keyboard. 

     This isn't exactly an exciting accomplishment, but I was pretty pleased with myself for getting it done without somehow mutilating the computer beyond repair and having to blow my savings on a whole new computer. Why did i have to replace the keyboard, you ask? WELL. That's because my mom threw a pattern envelope to me for my perusal, but I wasn't paying attention, so I didn't catch it. Instead it went skittering across my keyboard, popping off and breaking (as in, it was not a matter of just popping them back on) a few of the keys in the process. If that sounds implausible, that's because you must not know that apparently my mother has been a secret ninja, practiced in the art of the throwing star, all this time. Yeah, I was surprised too. You can order replacement keys, as well as the little plastic mechanisms that hold them on and make them function, but with the cost of the keys themselves plus the shipping cost (not to mention the wait-time that comes with standard shipping -- I can only go for so long without parentheses keys, you know? Yeah, you know), it ended up making more sense to just buy a replacement keyboard from Amazon with two-day Prime shipping so it'd be cheap and get here quickly. After watching a Youtube video showing how to change the keyboard on a laptop similar to my own, it was a pretty simple operation. Aaah, nothing like a new keyboard, keys all present and functional, all clicky and new, with no food crumbs stuck in the crevices (I'm the worst).

     I also have a pink keyboard skin coming to a) prevent any more freak accidents like that from happening again, b) help keep the new keyboard clean and dust/crumb free, and c) to really take the pink-cuteness factor from the stickers on the front and just amp it up to 11. Whose laptop is this, Katy Perry's? Nope, it's mine. 

3. I dyed my hair again. 

Oh look, it's super blown-out on a white background; it's like Terry Richardson takes my blog photos. Just kidding, I just get overzealous with the flash sometimes. Also ew, Terry Richardson.

      It's basically the same color I had before, but it had faded quite a bit and my roots were growing in blonde, which had a weird effect where it looked like my hair was thinning or I did a crap job brushing out my dry shampoo. It's super dark now, but it'll lighten up after a few washes. Not that I mind. I quite like having my hair very dark; I think it enhances my eyes (which is why I'm making the crazy-eyes face above. I think. Maybe that's just my face). Plus it's kind of fun to be really really pale with really really dark hair, like maybe I'm just in black and white, on my way to go hang with Steamboat Willie and Lucy Ricardo. 

4. I reconfigured my bookcase. Again. 

      You may recall that the last configuration I had going on there was a curtain-type cover held up by tension rods. Well, full disclosure: it didn't work out. Turns out I had underestimated my cat's innate instinct to annoy the absolute shit outta me. She got into the habit of pawing at the curtain at ungodly hours of the night and morning until she pushed the tension rods back, making a loud metallic shuffly sound that drove me absolutely batty. So I had to rethink the situation. I sat in the floor staring at the bookcase for a good half hour, plotting and scheming, while my mom's face floated around my head, cartoon style, saying "Why don't you just clear out the bottom shelf and let her have it?" I hadn't wanted to empty the shelf because there were approximately a million cords hanging back there that I didn't want her to chew on and die or start a house fire. And because it would look stupid to have the entire bottom shelf completely empty. So after some frenetic late night crafting, this is the solution I settled on. All the cords got organized (half of them weren't even connected to anything, so I rolled them up into a box in case I ever need them) and put into one of the shoeboxes on the middle shelf. There's only four cords going in there into a power strip (it looks like more, but some of what you see is cords connecting the dvd player and cable box to the tv, and the cable wire loops around like eight times back there, so it looks like more of a mess. Whatever, I'll deal). I'd read that you don't need to worry about cords getting too hot and posing a fire hazard unless they have that block adapter halfway through the cord, but just in case, I cut the back off the box so it stays ventilated and un-explode-y. 

     Once I had the cord situation under control, it was time to tackle that bottom shelf. I wanted to put Bessie's water and food dishes on it so that I wouldn't kick them as I walked by and make huge messes anymore, but I didn't want to risk a spill ruining the wood. So I grabbed an old Ikea shopping bag, which is essentially a tarp, and pulled it apart, cutting the resulting material to cover the shelf. But that's ugly! So then I raided my scrap fabric stash and found some navy and white polka dot fabric to put over that. To keep it in place I just wrapped it around the back, then pushed the bookcase against the wall to hold it, then wrapped it under the front and slid empty videogame and dvd cases under to hold the fabric taut. If this is all sounding very jury-rigged and mad-scientisty, it's because it was. I couldn't stand another night of waking up to that God-forsaken tension rod slipping. But it's worked so far, and it could look a lot worse. 

5. I don't really have a number five, but I like having five items in a list. 

     I did change some diapers yesterday, this time without having any catastrophic flooding events, so I was quite proud of that. But I don't think you'd appreciate a picture of that very much, so instead here's a picture of cute little baby feet in the grass. 

All the feelings.

     Last Friday I says to myself, I says, "Wouldn't it be fun to watch a Harry Potter movie every night, then I can have them all re-watched in a week!" And at the time it sounded like a great idea. By the end of night four, though, I was starting to reconsider. Now, after night five, I'm pretty sure I made a gross miscalculation of exactly how "fun" this was going to be. 

Pretty much continuously from the end of Goblet of Fire on.

     If you'll excuse me, I have to go empty my Tear Bucket so I can finish the last three movies.

Slice of (crazy cat-lady) life.

     Last night I spent a good half hour laying in my floor, trying to will myself to have some creatively brilliant idea (which, as you can imagine, always works out well. Creative block? Fixate on it as MUCH AS POSSIBLE until it overtakes your will to live!). This process has changed since I got a cat. 

Woooosh.

     That's the sound of the wind rushing through my ears and around the inside of my head. I'm going through one of those spells where my creative energy just goes "Lol, nope, don't think so suckaaaa" and stops existing. So I sit around trying to think of something fun to craft/sew/draw/write about and this is what happens. 

     I'm hoping it's just because I haven't been sleeping well at all these past few nights, and not because my whole life's supply of creativity has suddenly run dry and now I'll have to become an accountant or something (no offense to accountants).