This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Major Update

Things have been decidedly crazy lately, even for my weird life.

For starters, as is tradition with my laptops, my trusty bamboo Asus took its last trip under my sweaty fingers, not long before my birthday (which is on July 8th, for those of you planning to send me hand-made cards and trinkets that don't smell like vanilla). It was creeping toward death for awhile after an errant passionate gesture spilled beer on its sacred keyboard - it had taken up typing the letter j incessantly, f11-ing back and forth rapidly until I crumpled in a heap from seizures, as well as opening and closing developer tools.

As a result, I'd taken up beating the shit out of it because I have the patience of a spoiled Queen. This murdered the shitty hard drive, which I replaced. I lost everything I hadn't recently backed up on the old hard drive, despite my sister's best efforts, which basically ruined my soul. The universe wasn't done with me yet, though - within hours of learning the fateful end of quite a bit of work I'd done for my blog, I gracefully dumped the laptop from the height of two feet, cracking the screen.

The very same fucking evening, my son woke up in the middle of the night, grumpily demanding a snack and in his frustration at having his snack delivered in a timely fashion, smacked his cup of water onto his father's laptop, frying it soundly. It seems no laptop is safe when my birthday looms.


Ordinarily I would have replaced my laptop, however the money I had earmarked for that purpose now has to be utilized for moving out on my own, since I am in the process of a divorce. It's a fairly amicable one, and was honestly a long time in coming.

Also, I have a 23-year old boyfriend. Okay, you're up to date.

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Tuesday, June 10, 2014

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)

Listen, Sweets - I find outdoor workbenches as infuriating as the next raving lunatic ...
... but maybe we can dial it down a couple notches below tantrum level Arthur Derrick.
Some TV might hit the spot. It's got Eve so relaxed she's storing her finger tips in her thighs. Give it a shot.
Uh-oh, Husbro.
He's a-plotting. Ya better sleep with one eye peeled and the other eye open.
I suspect his plan has something to do with that decorative bicycle bell he wears on his hip.
Husbro, your explosive innocent face is improving!
Okay, guys - I don't want to interrupt uh ... okay, maybe I do want to interrupt. We're about to have the party.
Is this some sort of pre-party oath? I don't know if we have the time.

Our first guest is booking through the front door and we're not even changed into celebration attire.
Formal wear vortex! Quickly!
Or just freeze with a creeper grin on your face. That's good, too.
I think you passed him going eighty, guy.
Hmm. Bunny. Bunny?
I haven't seen her stare this hard since 'nam.
Pace yourselves, you two.
Grumplestiltskin hates everything.
Uh-oh, Sweets is crapping hearts.
"Have you met the girl just sprinting in? I think I'm in love with her."
Unfortunately, Sweets, she appears to have some sort of business with Husbro.
Mayhaps you dodged a bullet, though.
I don't blame you, Eve. I'd offer my arm to the fish after seeing that, too.
On a scale of 1 to Can't With This, I think it's clear where Rev stands.
Aww, lookit Sweets. He hopes I dance.
Gather 'round. I'll oblige.
Alright, I'm going. I hope I don't pull several things.
Oops. You know what I need to do?
I totally gotta poop. Hi, Sweets.
What're you ...
No freakin' way.
All this time. It finally happened. Double poop, all the way. But what does it MEAN!?
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Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Surprise! I'm an idiot.

Before I became a mother, I used to love doing experiments on my body with drugs.

Many years ago, I was really into taking Ambien, and then not going to sleep. As most people know, when you take Ambien - especially extra Ambien - without being strapped down to your bed two seconds after swallowing it, you end up doing a lot of shit that seems logical at the time (it never is). You also wake up with amnesia, which is only cured by a forensic piecing together of the events based on the insane clues you left for yourself. For me, the memories would basically come back, but it usually took a few days.

I once hid soap. I have no idea who I was hiding it from (myself, maybe?), but I found it under the bathroom sink in an empty tampon box. Of course.

My sister often reminds me about the night I decided we desperately needed to have a sleepover in her bedroom. She had bunk beds, but I decided it made a lot more sense to drag my mattress through the hallway and throw it on her floor. I'm guessing my original plan was to stick it on top of the existing mattress on the top bunk, but fortunately Ambien does not bestow upon a person freakish strength.

Another time, I took it during singles group at my church. We ended up going to a diner, which we usually did afterward, and instead of ordering a cheeseburger like I always would, I decided to get ravioli. Don't order ravioli from a diner, seriously. Also, don't drive a car after taking Ambien. There could be only one other car on the road for miles, but you are guaranteed to hit that car.

The most elaborately bizarre experience was when I was spending the night at my friend Jamie's apartment. That was the evening I had a revelation - despite that I am the most terrible artist I've ever seen, I just knew that it was all going to change now that I'd discovered charcoal pastels and huge pieces of paper. I made several masterpieces, thrilled with my new-found talent. The next morning, I found a whole buncha huge pieces of paper filled with amorphous, smudgy blobs.

But that wasn't my only bout of creativity that night. "Give me that roll of tape!" I demanded of Jamie. She handed it to me with a sense of urgency usually reserved for stuff like lifeboat-boarding. She stood, awaiting further instructions. "I need something to tape!" I insisted. "Give me something to tape!" She became paralyzed with fear and indecision. It was now up to me. "The ketchup bottle! The ketchup bottle!" I commanded, as quick on my feet as ever. She practically threw it at me, so relieved to have the responsibility taken from her shoulders.

I began carefully winding the tape around the bottle, practically sweating with concentration. I finally reached the neck of the bottle and decided that it needed a good old ruffle. After that, I grabbed a pen, scribbled something on it, then handed it back to Jamie triumphantly, who dutifully stuck it into her fridge, for some arcane reason, since one should never have to suffer the pain of cold ketchup.

By the light of day, Jamie opened the fridge and discovered her ketchup and silently handed it to me, at the absolute threshold of how confused it's possible to look without your eyes running away from their sockets. I took the bottle. It read, "eat your ketchup now, children. there will be no ketchup in hell."

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Tuesday, May 27, 2014

I Play Sims Asylum (part12)

"Now be a good boy and go stand in the shower fully clothed until somebody tries to burn the Asylum down..."
Great. The hot dogs are burnt again.
Alright, y'all, you know what to do - commence panicking.
Tip-top trepidation there, Arthur Derrick.
You're all precious gemstones.
Hey, do any of you mind if I do a little freestyle here?
Of course you don't. Check this shit out, I'm amazing. My vagina can do anything.
Oh yeah, sorry to have worn you out with the fire I didn't start, but managed to extinguish, Sweets.
You probably need a snack.
I think I might be doing the hot dog procedure incorrectly. I'm supposed to rub my food on a friend for extra flavor.
Well, this is embarrassing.
Ooh, Eve - you should know better than to eye up Rev's dog. Nobody's in the mood for anything tonight.
It's hard to find the words I need to ask about this.
Oh hey, thanks Arthur Derrick. You're a peach.
I don't know what I would have done without you to transfer the pile of filthy laundry ... over. A little.
Is the TV broken again? Couldn't we be watching literally anything else but this?
Here we go, a grand idea. Pillow fights are never not edifying.
You really detect the uplifting of her mind and character.
Even Lord Sweets is receiving some second-hand improvementations.
Not a moment too soon, either - he's been kicking up some naughtiness which is getting stuck right in my craw.
For one thing, I don't like having to catch any face-sass when I'm just trying to have a nice stare with one of my friends.
It makes it really hard to enjoy having my crotch intensely examined through my night shirt.

And he shouldn't be doing that thing with his neck. It's just fuckin' creepy and it gives Rev
permission to do whatever this thing she's doing is, which I kind of don't like much.
He's also started sitting like this. It's like trying to watch television next to someone who's
about to murder me with soft, lotioned hands and then knit a scarf from my hair. Or something.
He's gotta stop following me around, too.
He is really bleaching my bricks today. I'm about to do something bad with a sword.
Oh good, these two are the perfect distraction.
And I totally agree with you, too. We should throw a party. I hope somebody brings a platter of something.

I Play Sims Asylum (part13)
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