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 |  Are hash tags still cool? |
| After recovering from a small bout of depression, I'm back again to talk about first world problems, make fun of my ridiculousness, and find a place where I can just be me. |
| Prompt: Tell us about what you always wanted to do if you had more time at home. Have you done, will you do it? This is a great question because today should be the climax of my incredible vacation. The one I have always talked about but could not afford. I finally afforded it. So as today passes, I know I should be grateful for my health. Truthfully, I am bummed out. I was supposed to be at a festival in Denver today. Instead, I am at home with my best friend. We are having a phenomenal time, and I’m so happy to spend time with her. I should be getting ready to see T.I., Lil’ Wayne, and Lil’ John (Yeahhh!!!) My health and wellness are more important, and that’s what adulthood is all about. But, at the end of the day, it was T.I, Lil’ Wayne, and Lil’ John. The worst part is even though the President seems convinced we have almost flattened the curve; I feel confident we are going to re-open this country too soon. If the plan was to get everyone sick, I should have been able to go to the concert. In short, I sacrifice the greatest weekend ever planned, just to risk my health doing day to day activities. Being an adult sucks, the president sucks, and that’s just that. I always said if I spent more time at home, I’d clean top to bottom and unload the dishwasher. The stay at home order has determined I've been lying to myself and company for years! While I have completed a thorough cleaning of my house, I have not picked up a vacuum ever since. I guess I should unload the dishwasher today. That’s got to be better than turning down for what! I leave you with what I should have been doing today…. Hanging out on a festival lawn, eating an overpriced festival corn dog, yelling at the top of my lungs "Turn it down why?" (A reference to my bff's ex husband), and breaking down some terrible dance moves. I would have bought a shirt too. Stupid Public Health Crisis. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
| Pick one and write a letter (or note) to your: mail carrier, delivery person, local first line (emt, fire, police, hospital staff) Dear Mr. Door Dash, I apologize if you heard me cussing on my way to the door last Saturday after the second time you knocked. Due to the novel coronavirus, I have taken to a new life that borders on alcoholic hermit. Contactless delivery seemed the best option for me because I had a bit too much to drink the night before and my sobriety had not carried over into morning. Also, I haven’t shaved my legs. In case you were wondering, the omelet was awful. The eggs were cold and the hash browns raw. If you ever have the opportunity to eat at the Egg place, don’t. Delivering the trash food wasn’t a complete waste, because of the hangover it all ended up flushed down the toilet (where it belonged). You knocked twice causing my door alarm to beep, me to cover my ears, and I shouted something along the lines of “What in the fuck!” I realized I hated you after the third knock. The door alarm counted down to release full blast to a repeated swirling siren. I stomped to the door attempting to disarm the alarm through a hangover. And I’m sure you heard my repeated mantra of the word “Fucking Fuck.” When I cracked the door open so you couldn’t see that I was pant less, I noticed you were on the other side of the parking lot. You yelled something at me, and even though I smiled, nodded, and waved. I didn’t hear what you said. I closed the door and hated you the rest of the day. I apologize sincerely for hating you. This afternoon, when I went to put the trash out, I realized I left my keys in the door. And now that I think about it, you were just trying to let me know. You’re a great guy, Mr. Door Dash. A great guy. If you’re open to delivering to me again, please don’t hate me. I won’t cuss next time. I’ll put on pants. Sincerely, Me. |
| Which items in your home have a story of how they came to be there. I am the opposite of a hoarder; I don’t keep junk. As I look around my apartment everything serves a purpose, which is why my possessions fall into two categories. Category 1: I wanted something, so I worked hard and purchased it. Category 2: I didn’t want something, so someone gave it to me as a present. Which means I threw it in a corner, forgot about it, and when asked.....I cherished it deeply. Currently, I’m stuck inside the house, lying in my bed, living in the dystopian that has become everyone’s life, andI have the perfect view of my mug cabinet. 1 For some reason there is an epidemic of people who love to give mugs when they don’t know you well. I own at least 20 of those “I got to give you a gift” mugs. ….. ….. …. I don’t understand what it is about gift giving. Not the gift giving where you’re giving a gift to someone because you love and cherish them. The gift giving when you really don’t know that person, but you feel like you can’t show up empty handed. I’m giving you a gift because you are giving me a gift. Can we throw that idea away in the trash? I know I sound ungrateful, but anytime someone gives me a mug I always just want to give it back. Is that a thing? Can I just say, “Thank you, but no I don’t want this mug?” However, while I’ve just ranted about these mugs I don’t want, I know if someone wraps it in gift wrap with three things of tissue paper, I will take it, smile, and say thank you. I won’t throw it away because you don’t throw away gifts. But honestly! I’m running out of room in the mug cabinet. Footnotes |
Motivational Monday! Legendary author Jack Kerouac , born on this day in 1922, once said "Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion." What do you think...is this true? And at what point did you stop caring about something being trendy or popular and just started to fully enjoy it solely because you liked it? I can remember the first time I ever wanted something I could live without. I was 4 years old, went to a catholic school, and there was a navy school uniform sweater I was convinced would change my life. I begged and pleaded with my parents; they could not figure out why I needed the navy sweater when they just bought me the gray sweater. I spent a solid month imagining how everyone would love me more in navy and how grown up I’d look. The best part about coveting is all the stupid imagining you do. I’d be the same person but also a different more magical person if I had a Dooney&Burke bag, if I owned a kylie jenner lipstick, if I bought this DVD. I can’t say that I’ve completely stopped caring about something being trendy or popular. Jeffree Star cosmetics launched a $50 eye shadow palette, which had not been reviewed by anyone but Jeffree Star. Within 4 minutes, Jeffree Star made 5 million, and the palette was sold out. I’d love to say that I wasn’t going to buy that palette without the first wave of reviewers trying the make up on first. Obviously, that’s a reasonable use of my $50, but if everyone else was going to own the Blood Sugar Palette, then my eyelids had to be coma burgundy and root canal purple too. “I’m sorry for what I said when I was at Sephora,” were the muttered lines I told my friend Hunter after I told off the clerk for playing with my emotions over Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty Pro Filt’r foundation in shade 450. I shouldn’t have told her off. I shouldn’t have called her racist. I should have felt bad about how I told her she was incompetent, but I’ve never been able to achieve the soft matte look until the day she let me test the foundation. Right now, gloss is out, it’s all about achieving the editorial perfect matte look. I know this because --when I have time to put on make up-- make up makes me happy, getting compliments on my make up makes me happy, and being on trend makes me happy. I come by my shopaholic tendencies naturally. My mother is a shopaholic. A shopaholic raised her. Growing up my grandmother told me I was worth a million rubies, and that I should always find ways to treat myself. I treat myself for almost anything. I got out of bed. I didn’t punch anyone in the face. I made it through a minor inconvenience. I’m not entirely materialistic. I am buying make up because trying on new make up makes me happy. I also love Starbucks but refuse to order anything in a tall, grande, or venti. I will ALWAYS passive aggressively say small, medium, or large because fuck Starbucks. The problem with this blog topic is that I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drummer. I know that sounds like a big ol’ lie, but it’s the truth. As a kid, I loved school, even when everyone hated it. Everyone was like, "school sucks", and I was just happy to be there. I didn’t try to fit in and pretend that school sucked, everyone knew I just liked it. If you didn’t like that about me, then fuck you. I also liked spinning in circles until I was really dizzy. I looked stupid spinning outside alone at recess, then staggering around like a drunk, but it was fun and if you didn’t think it was fun then clearly you weren’t trying it. My mom – the original extrovert – doesn’t blend in at all. I think having to live with a mom who refuses to blend in, makes you know at some point everyone is going to figure out you’re really weird. So, why stress over it? Being weird is not the worst thing I could be. I figured that out YOUNG when all the kids at school were making fun of me. I was a grade ahead, the skinniest and shortest kid in the class, and I still watched Barney in the third grade. I loved his magic coloring kit. I grew up in the EMO generation (fat Hipsters in all black). If you liked something main stream you weren't cool. I liked so much main stream stuff I shouldn't have liked. N Sync was the bomb dot com even when they weren't. Still is. So was Green Day. I burned the BEST freaking mixed CDs because my tastes went from 80s music to boy bands to Emo to Black Eyed Peas to Cold Play. I was a Buffy the Vampire Slayer dictionary, and I stood in line for all of the Harry Potters.I was a sell out. Everyone said "sell out" like it was a bad thing. But a sell out to what? Things I liked. If you like something, you like it. If you like something you can’t bitch out and pretend to hate it. I think that’s always been my rule. If you like something, you have to be proud you like it no matter how stupid, how sold out, or all the reasons you're not supposed to. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
The Sunday News! This week, Martin Shkreli cried in court as he was sentenced to seven years in prison for his part in federal fraud charges. You may know him as the smug Pharma-bro with the punchable face who jacked up the price of a life-saving HIV medicine from $13.50 a pill to $750; I prefer to remember him as the douchebag who made a mockery of his purchasing the single copy in existence of the Wu-Tang Clan's album Once Upon A Time In Shaolin (there's still time to save us, Bill Murray!! ). So this week, my question is "Why should we feel sorry for this guy?", along with "Why are people with access to hedge funds controlling our pharmaceutical industry...instead of, ya know, like, doctors?" This guy was an asshole. He deserved prison. State Prison not Federal Prison. When I got in trouble as a child, I cried. My parents spanked me so I didn’t grow up to be an asshole. Clearly, Pharma-bro never got the it’s not ok to be an asshole lesson. I’m over the tears too. I‘m sure a great deal of people cried when they couldn’t afford their HIV medication. During the congressional testimony over the raised price of the medicine, Shrekli answered everything with a smug little fucking face, “On the advice of counsel I invoke my Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination, and respectfully decline to answer your question.” So if he’s crying about his ruined life, I respectfully decline to give a damn. In America, it’s starting to feel like sitting back and being rich is not enough. Those with money, weigh in on many things they don’t need to speak about. I mean…. have you heard Will Smith’s children speak? We, as a society, have enabled those with money a little too much. I’m beginning to think the rich believe they are better than us. I think they believe their opinions actually matter more. We need to stop giving so much credence to the opinion of those with money in a field unrelated to what they’re good at. Taylor Swift should only have to weigh in on singing. Donald Trump on business. I hate it when child stars begin talking about political events on television, it’s not like they have BAD opinions, but anyone can say the right thing during an interview. Actions and experiences determine who you are. Besides, the amount of money you have to raise to be an American president is absurd in the first place. Normal people can’t AFFORD to run for president. What if we gave a chance to someone who wasn’t already a millionaire to lead our country, what would we learn? The space shuttle Challenger exploded because of a problem with the O-ring. The team responsible for development of the O-ring told superiors there was a problem with this part, especially during cold weather, and it was decided to continue with the launch of the rocket on a day that it was cold enough for ice to form on the Launchpad overnight. The challenger exploded. The lost lives could have been prevented if someone had just taken the time to give credence to the opinion of those who were not in power. Normal people are important. We have important opinions; we know certain things won’t work for everyone before they are tried. Normal people have to learn to live and work together; they can’t run away to Florida on golf trips when they’re tired of co-workers. I don’t think doctors should set the price of medications. Have you ever been prescribed a $100 prescription from your doctor? I’ve had a $700 emergency room visit where the Doctor spoke with me for only 5 minutes. I think the prices in the medical game aren’t just inflated by pharma-bro, but by plenty of people charging more than the supplies actually cost. Normal people should set the price of prescriptions alongside doctors and insurance companies. I think we should all work together in assuring the price of a necessary prescription is as low as possible. A cancer patient isn’t just paying for medicine. They’re paying for frequent doctor’s visits, surgeries, chemotherapy, etc. It all adds up. Those making the prices need to remember that illness has no income requirement; and work together with families to give value to the lives and families of those needing the medicine. If something is expensive, panels need to be formed to research the cost of the medicine. Is there a cheaper way to make something effective? Is it possible for a supplier to charge a lower price? Have we even asked? Laissez faire markets are great places to increase competition, but it does not belong in a life-saving business. I think we all need to have a serious conversation with our politicians about a Laissez faire system in the pharmaceutical industry. The worst part about pharama-douche is that what he did was perfectly fucking legal. The legality of the situation is what made the whole debacle so alarming. Before Pharma-bro, many did not know the price of their medicines could be increased at the will of a single person. I am almost sure there are many medicines getting away with price gouging, but no one has the resources or influence to look into it. That’s scary if you think about it. And on that note…I leave you a video of a woman taking on the plastic surgery industry…. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] |
Creation Saturday! Redefine the Ides of March to your liking and/or personal benefit. Redefine the Ides of March? The Ides of March is one of the single most treacherous events in history. More treacherous than Scar throwing Mufasa off a cliff and blaming Simba for his father’s murder, Miguel being poisoned by Ernesto De La Cruz leading to Ernesto becoming an absentee father who chose music over his family, and the strawberry scented Lots o’ Huggin’ Bear orchestrating the genocide of Woody and his friends by furnace. The Roman Senate assassinated Julius Caesar and in the most DICK MOVE IN HISTORY Brutus – his BFF and rumored SON – stabs Julius in the back. Yeah, beware the Ides of March. You can’t trust little bitches. History is full of middle fingers. So, I can’t redefine the Ides of March as much as reminisce over SAVAGE AF moments in history. Sybil Ludington We all remember Paul Revere’s nighttime ride warning of the British, but do we remember Sybil Ludington? Sybil was the 16-year-old girl who rode through the night screaming about the British coming, and rode twice the distance of Revere. In true fashion, a man gets all the fame as he tells one or two people about the British, while a woman gets no credit for cleaning the house, having a full time job, and getting shit done. She was a boss. She owned history, but the credit… Men contribute next to nothing in this universe and get all the praise. OJ Simpson The entire American public knew he killed his damn wife. American courtrooms have sentenced others to life in prison off of less evidence. OJ is given a pass from his criminal charges partially from mounting racial tensions and even more partially to the expensive ass defense team he hired. If getting away with murder wasn’t enough, years later he writes and publishes a book If I Did It: Confessions of the Killer. John Wilkes Booth Booth assassinates the sitting American President (see what I did there, lol) by shooting him in the back of the head like he’s the lead hit man of the Italian Mafia. He jumps off the banister (in a theatre! Fuck culture, right?), then takes a bow on the stage. HE KILLS THE PRESIDENT THEN BOWS! BOWS! Aaron Burr The sitting vice president of the United States challenges Alexander Hamilton to a duel. Hamilton’s shot misses, and Burr’s fatally wounds Hamilton. Burr later goes on to say that if it hadn’t been misty outside, he would have shot Hamilton in the heart. Like damn. Remember when Dick Cheney accidentally shot a man? These Vice Presidents are gangsters. Matt Lauer & Ann Curry Matt Lauer helped conspire to get Ann Curry kicked off of the Today show. Operation Bambi was formed to undermine Curry so she wouldn’t be able to remain co-anchor. Then on television, the day she announces her plan to leave, Anny Curry breaks into tears and the American public KNEW Matt Lauer was behind it. You could see it in Lauer’s face. Years later, Matt Lauer’s disgusting ways come out: giving a colleague a sex toy, dropping his pants in front of employees, and playing a game identifying who in the office he’d like to sleep with. All the nasty stuff we never wanted to hear about Matt Lauer comes avalanching out of the closet. But, Ann Curry…. Ann Curry didn’t have to cash in her opinions on this fiasco. Ann Curry get’s in front of the press to let everyone know, while everyone else is being fake about Lauer, she ain’t surprised. Oh the Ides of March, it’s the day of reckoning! It’s the day of the middle fingers and kiss my asses. From the Boston tea party to the murder of Tupac Shakur to sentencing Jesus to Death, the 15th of March reminds us all to remain authentic, keep it real, and that sometimes you just have to be a little bit petty. |
Fun Fact Friday! On this day in 1454, Amerigo Vespucci was born in Florence, Italy...Matthias Ringmann, a German mapmaker, named the American continent in his honor. What unexpected places have your personal explorations led you to? Has anyone noticed there is a disproportionate amount of foreign cartographers mentioned in this blogging challenge? I’m not a natural risk taker. I like a set of clearly defined rules. I like being a big fish in a small familiar pond. I don’t have very many personal explorations. Sometimes, I go to a new restaurant, and then I order the same thing on the menu every time. I recently discovered a new grocery store and within less than a month became a regular. I guess it’s time to come clean before you all start to think I’m cool. I am a library card carrying, glasses wearing, nose spray spraying nerd. I don’t go on adventures. I’m allergic to ALMOST everything. The only personal explorations I go on is through the wide world of reading. My favorite bookstore is an hour and a half away from where I live. It is a used bookstore (the only decent way to buy a book). Wall to wall is covered with books; there are small rooms with books and makeshift bookshelves. This bookstore is a book exchange owned by someone who clearly loves to read. When they have a sale you can buy 10 books for $1.00, and the books are GREAT because the owners don’t just buy anything. If they have too much in stock, the book is in poor condition, or it’s just not the right fit for the store, then they don’t take it. I have found more favorite books in this store than anywhere else in my life. All of my favorite personal explorations come through books. You can go so many places you’ve never been. Somehow those musty pages stop turning and there is this wonderful place with people you’ve never met. For my birthday last year, I asked everyone to give me a copy of his or her favorite book as a present. My friends all gave me different books, and I gained a chance to see the words that spoke to each of my friends. I didn’t read many of the books, but having a copy of books that mean something to others in my life makes my library feel more complete. My dad gave me the gift of reading. Growing up I used to hate reading because I loved television more. My dad bought me Harry Potter and forced me to finish it. Harry Potter opened up a world of fiction I didn’t know existed. You can’t feel depth of feelings in a television show. You can’t exist in the world the author created when you’re letting television do the imagining for you. It’s amazing how a few well-placed words can create feelings and images. Last year for my birthday, my dad wrote inside of one of his favorite books (he gave me two because he couldn’t pick just one) that reading is a wonderful way to escape the world if only for today. My dad is ALWAYS right, and he taught me to explore many places I never knew I’d end up. |
Give us the best definition of "lazy" you'll allow yourself to get away with...before it's "too much", but to where you're not right with being shamed for it. I have made an art form out of laziness. One of my personal philosophies is to work smarter and not harder. In college, my professors prepared me for the workplace. They said I was going to have to be dressed professionally, and -despite my commute – be on time to work. I want to go back one day to tell them I won the work game. I work from home (most of the time). Commute? My slow roll over from my bed to grab my computer. Dress? A combination of homeless hermit chic. During the day I’m the perfect person to corroborate an alibis because I know all of my neighbors business; including the times they leave for work and come home. I know who is off schedule, who is having an affair, and everyone with an online shopping problem. There was even a Law & Order SVU episode based on my life. Jennifer Love Hewitt played my character; she never left her house except once a month when she had to go into the office for work. She had everything delivered and never went anywhere. The one day she left her home she was raped so she became extremely paranoid. That’s basically my life, except – you know--I leave every now and then. Nothing bad ever happens to me when I leave the house; except, for the leaving and getting dressed part. I’m not paranoid. Actually, that was a terrible reference, but I’ve typed it and we have to go with it now. I was never raped. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] (INSET AWKWARD SILENCE HERE) Dun. Dun. I have a level of clean based on the amount of times a visitor comes to my house. One visit: My house is as clean as the Holocaust Museum’s bathroom.2 I welcome people and say “Sorry for the mess.” I hate people like that. Don’t apologize to me that you clean like a crazy person. You make me feel dirty. Two to Five Visits: I start testing the waters with a little filth here, a little extra filth there. Five or More Visits: You’re a regular here. You live like I live. I’ve got to be authentic. I don’t make the bed every morning, I don’t pick up things that fell more than a feet from me. I want one of those claw things to reach further than 5 feet. I’ve been known to reach without leaning. I’ve considered giving up Chrystel as a friend because too many of her favors involved me getting up. The fact that I’m not on my 600 pound life surprises me. I’m too young to be this lazy, but have you ever moved when you’re really comfortable? It isn’t worth it. Wait. What was the topic? Oh, that's right. I try not to appear lazy in public. I brush my teeth, wear clean clothes. I change my undies several times a day. I wear make up...if I feel like it. I do try my best to leave my house weekly. I am more of a.... what can I get away with before other people KNOW I'm lazy? There's no shame in laziness. There's a lot of shame in laziness. I feel maybe 0% of it. Footnotes |
War Chest Wednesday! For the new kids in the back, these were future prompt ideas sent in by previous challengers. So, don't blame me, but feel free to take them in any direction you'd like. Whispers, or screams? I suffer from a terrible personality disorder called intro-extrovertedness. Sometimes, I exhibit all the characteristics of a textbook introvert, and other times I’m the life of the party. Truthfully, no one knows what version of me they’re going to get; neither do I. My comfort in a social setting plays into my current level of gregariousness, but mostly it is that I’ve had way too much caffeine, sugar, and probably alcohol. Do I like meeting new people? No, yes, and maybe. It all depends on my mood. My point is that I understand how both introverts and extroverts feel. There are times I want my conversations to be whispers that don’t bring me any attention. There are other times I want to be the screaming center of attention. The truth is taking a risk to be the center of attention is ALWAYS more fun than avoiding the attention. I know many people assume I have no fear of being the center of attention; it’s not true. The truth is fear never goes away. I can feel the excitement right before I jump dead center into a social setting. Doing things outside of a comfort zone is always fun. It’s too easy to whisper. It’s too easy to not be heard. Whispering doesn’t challenge me, but screaming... Screaming challenges me. It gets my blood pumping. It pushes me somewhere I’m afraid I’ll end up. So if I have to choose, it’ll always be screams. |
Talk Tuesday! What would you prefer...talking pets, or humans with heightened animal sensibilities? I would prefer humans with heightened animal sensibilities. I may be misunderstanding the question. In my imagination I’m thinking human’s that can smell like dogs, fly like birds, and breathe under water. If you think for one second, I want to understand what an animal is saying rather than fly; then clearly you don’t understand animals already communicate. There is no mistaking exactly what a dog is thinking. I have to pee. Is there food? I’m scared. Intruder! I love you unconditionally. I believe it is the simple fact that animals and humans can’t talk which makes us so special to each other. We have to talk without talking. Apologize without “Sorry”. Exhibit empathy without listening. Animals and humans are forced to communicate with our hearts and actions instead of our mouths. On some level, I wish we could all communicate without speaking, I think we’d learn to understand each other better. Aside from wanting to fly, I wish I could have the emotional intelligence of a killer whale. I’m not going to start talking about the documentary Blackfish, and I’m not going to tell you that one of my dreams is to own a mansion partially submerged in the ocean so can I have a pet Orca family which is free enough to live in the open sea. That’s a story for a different day. Orcas are known to have a larger emotional capacity than humans because the part of their brains that handles emotion is more developed. This means the range of human emotion is not the most complex display of emotion. It means there are parts of emotion we have not discovered; ranges to feelings that we don’t have in our language. It means there is a possibility to love harder than we’ve ever experienced, and to understand joy from the very depths of our souls. It means there is sadness deeper and more painful than anyone knows. We’ve barely skimmed the surface of all we can possibly feel. It would be life changing to experience the emotional depth of an orca for one day, and it would change how I view the world. I can’t help but wonder if having more emotional range would be a blessing or a curse. Would it open up the universe? Would it be easier to be distrustful? Hmmmmm….something to think about. |
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Independence is so important. There's no better feeling than knowing that you can do something for yourself without assistance.
