Sunday, October 13, 2013

So, Things Have Happened

Hola, audience of one person! Things have happened in my life since I last left you in November that you wouldn't know about unless you follow me on Twitter.

So when we left off, I was living in New Hampshire, still unemployed, and had a cat. Then in January my life got flipped and turned upside down when my dearest Jeff lost his job (for a frankly bullshibullshiy reason) and we had to struggle for a few months to pay our rent and *maybe* eat food other than ramen noodles.

That worked out well until about May and then we were pretty much fucked so we moved to Rhode Island. To live with Jeff's great-aunt and -uncle. Who are in their sixties. Miles away from what I feel is my home.

So that's been tough, but within two weeks I found a really good job and relative stability. Then Jeff got hired at the same place I did and that was awesome and convenient! And then Friday pretty much everybody at our company got laid off because the government shutdown really fucked our company and only like 35 people got to stay because they are absolutely essential. Which includes me, somehow. So obviously I'm sad because Jeff got laid off and now things will be tough again for a while but my ego, you guys, is frickin huge.

Anyway, not many funny things have happened lately that I've remembered to blog about which is why it's been almost a year. I am good at things!

I am going to TRY to be better about this though because funny shit happens all the time and I never think to write it down. Oops.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

I'm Doing NaNoWriMo This Year, And Here's Why

I do this thing sometimes where I get super involved with a project for a day, or a week, or even a month sometimes, and then I totally abandon it for something else. Some would call this being "flaky", and frankly that's exactly what I am. I cancel plans with friends when I'm too anxiety-ridden to leave the house, I start book series and never finish them (one day, Hitchhiker's Guide, I will finish you!), and sometimes I forget to text or call people back because I'm too flaky to remember other people exist. Being the way that I am, I'm surprised I've even made it this far in life.

But that's exactly why I decided two days ago that I'm going to participate in National Novel Writing Month this year. If you don't know about NaNoWriMo, it's a big thing that takes up all of November across the whole world. Your challenge is to write 50,000 words. They don't even have to be good words. It doesn't have to be a good story. You just have to write. To accomplish this, you have to sacrifice a lot of time. Luckily (I say that with a laugh) for me, I'm unemployed, and happen to have plenty of time on my hands.

I decided that maybe this year will be my year. 2012 has treated me really well so maybe I can do something good for myself by committing to something and accomplishing it. Even if I only write half of that 50K it'll be more than I've ever solidly written in my life and I'll be proud of myself.

I used to write a lot, back when I was 13 and I thought my story about vampire demons with blood red hair an magical cannot-die powers was super cool. I realize now I am not cool at all and that story was really lame, but when I was writing, even though I sucked, I was happy. I loved putting words on paper or in a Word document and I loved watching the pages fill with my imagination. For a very long time I've wanted to capture that again but somehow I lost the will. I lost the drive.

Here is my drive. Here is my will. I'm going to do my best. I'm going to throw my whole self into this and dammit, I'm going to do something I'll be proud of. I'm not going to flake out of this like I do everything else.

So wish me luck. And don't ask what the story is about because every time I talk about it I feel stupid, but I'll say that I'm trying to break every mold without being annoying with it. So...here goes. It all starts tomorrow.

Also, a life update I guess, while I'm here. Things with Jeff are great, things with our apartment are going great (minus the fact that we haven't unpacked) and I'm only one step away from being able to get my ID and once I have that I'll be able to start job searching. So life is swell. The end!

Monday, August 27, 2012

I'm An Adult Now, Mommy!

Nothing went wrong, and I moved out of my mom's house. Now I live with Jeff and things are going really fucking awesomely. A friend is helping us move our couch tomorrow so we'll finally have a couch and we'll start arranging the living room and then the bedroom can get organized and it can start looking like a real apartment and we can start having people over and I can stop the "when I get my place organized" conversation. I'm so excited!

It is a little weird, living with Jeff, though. He works nights, so for 10 or so hours every weeknight I'm totally alone, which is strange for me and is sometimes a little scary. I live in a little...cul-de-sac, I guess I'd call it, of buildings, and we're surrounded by the woods. And stuff lives in the woods. So when I hear the woods making noise, it makes me reinforce my locked front door and pretend I never heard anything. Other than the "being alone at night" thing, it's really awesome being with him pretty much all the time. I used to miss him so much during the week when he would go home and I'd have to wait until the weekend to see him again, and now I never have to do that again. It feels weird to get to say that. I never have to miss him again.

It is nice that I live surrounded by people so if I scream, it's not like space. Someone will hear me.

I also have pictures of my place! I decided it would be cool to take some pre-couch/pre-organization pictures, and then some post-couch/post-organization ones, and then whenever we move out of this place, I can look back on my first place fondly. Or not fondly, if, you know, something bad happens here. Who knows.

This is the bathroom and I laugh every time I step into my ugly-ass forest green bathtub, by the way,
And this is my lightsaber, in its home under the smoke detector, because I'm too short to reach the button, which I'm pretty sure is the set-up for one really huge cosmic joke.

Another cosmic joke is that the first night we slept here I fell asleep facing the opposite way of Jeff (so his feet were in my face, and my feet in his) and I dreamt that he cheated on me with a girl I know personally but am not friends with. Thanks, subconscious! I appreciate that panic attack I had first thing in the morning after the first night I spent in my new home.

Anyway, that's the news. I'm not very funny lately. I've been using all my funny on Jeff because his laugh is my favorite thing ever. Bye!

Monday, August 13, 2012

Life Is Happening To Me!

So, as of right now, and unless anything in the next four days goes wrong, and unless anything at all changes...I will be moving in with Jeff this Friday, the 17th!

And as most people probably know, this is the first time I've ever moved out of home, and will hopefully be the last. I can't imagine anything bad ever happening between me and Jeff where I'd have to move back home, but you know what I mean. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever even come close to such a thing in my life, and the closest I've ever come to actually being an adult. Of course, I am terrified and excited beyond belief.

Right now I'm caught in the beginning stages of the packing process and wow, it really sucks. I'm only not doing anything now because for some reason my hip is killing me and I can't stand up, or else I'd be organizing all my books and shit. The plan right now gives me three more days (Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday) to pack up everything I own into tiny little boxes to be driven 40 minutes north to a teeny little town that has a population of 34,000 less than the city I live in right now. Where their movie theater shows one movie at a time. Where the diner and the bookshop share a parking lot. Where "Moose Crossing" signs are everywhere. Where you probably won't hear sirens every night, and where you most likely will never hear a gunshot go off. Where your neighbors won't light off illegal fireworks at all hours of the night any time of the year, just because they can. Where our neighbors in our complex will be daycare runners, not drug runners. Where I actually have job opportunities and can get my life started, instead of being overshadowed for university students and thousands of single moms who need those jobs more than I do. Where I can actually walk out of my home at night and not feel instantly terrified just because I'm a young girl in a scary neighborhood.

I'm so excited.

Now, your job is to please let me know that being terrified the first time you move out is normal. Please let me know I'm not crazy because I have so many emotions right now that I don't think I could pinpoint only one at a time. And your job is also to listen to me through this whole process over on my Twitter, because I can tweet directly from my phone whenever the hell I want.

Oh, and the funniest thing? It turns out starting a cable/internet service is super expensive, so we're going to be without it for a while. Which is fine! But for a month+ I'll have disappeared completely from the internet, and that will be weird. So, for those who care, rest assured that when I have internet again (or if Jeff will let me borrow his phone or something, damn his stupid smartphone and unlimited data package) I'll post again and let everyone know I'm still alive and am adjusting well. At other places on the internet I'll post pictures of the apartment since I have some friends who are curious, and I'll probably link to them on Twitter, if anyone cares.

That's all there is, I think. I've kind of dropped out of this blogging scene and Twitter the last month and it's just...it's been a big whirlwind of "what the fuck is happening to me right now" stuff. So I hope I haven't lost any of you. I love you guys.

Sunday, June 24, 2012

The Laughing Man Has A Contender

I'm typing this in the car right now while it's fresh in my mind because this is just too good to forget about. (EN: I'm actually publishing this post two days after the concert so no, it's not Sunday night and I just got out of a concert, that would just be silly. This happened Friday night, in case you do not follow me on Twitter and have no idea I even have a social life.)

Jeff and I just got out of an Avenged Sevenfold concert in Connecticut. It was amazing and I had a lot of fun and the band that opened for them was amazing too and it all was just so great.

Actually, I should say MOST of it was great.

Y'all remember my Laughing Man post, right? We found his contender. I will say now that I apologize to The Laughing Man for the mean things I said. I now realize that you laughing loudly and obnoxiously was not your fault. You didn't know you were doing anything wrong.

The man I met tonight knew he was doing a very wrong thing and he continued to do it anyway.

He was sat a seat away from me. Later in the night he ended up next to me, much to my discomfort. Let me tell you why.

This man was drunk as fuck. At Mohegan Sun, a giant awesome casino, this is to be expected. But this man was drunker than he should have been.

He started off the night screaming a very obnoxious WOOOOO! At every opportunity. It was very different from the WOOOs of everyone else. He kept trying to shout at the band to play a specific song and since, dude, they can't fucking hear you, and you are literally hurting me, stop. Just stop.

While the frontman of the band was talking to the audience, basically thanking us for being awesome and coming out and all that stuff, we were all quiet and respectful. All except...

The Screaming Man.

I believe I heard him say "*completely gibberish* plaY GERR FERTM ZYGOTE TOUR". I don't know what language he was trying to communicate with but it was most definitely not spoken by anyone else on this entire planet. He shouted this at the band many times and, shockingly, they did not hear him. He angrily and incorrectly and gibberishly sang along with every song, demanding they play the song he wants.

I feel I should mention that when he finally finished WOOOOO!-ing, he began screaming. Like, screaming. As if someone was stabbing him in the webbings of his toes. A grumpy woman in front of us told him to "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" a couple times and he just did not care. At all. He just kept screaming.

The best parts of the night were these gems:
• when he threw a beer cup at my foot
• when he bumped me, in the face a few times but mostly in my arm and shoulder, in his drunken dance routines (which, by the way, made him look like some weird creepy man-baby)
• when he tapped me hard on the arm, then again when I ignored him, and when I looked he made (uncomfortable for me) dance motions, as if to say "you dance too!" I gave him a dirty look because I hate this man a little bit, looked back at the band, and sang louder.

When the band finally played the song he wanted, he sang along like a happy child and was totally fucking silent the entire rest of the set.

I hate The Screaming Man. I felt threatened by him for about a thousand different reasons and my skin crawled when he touched me. I don't like that.

So, Screaming Man, my message to you is this:

I hope a child on a tricycle runs over your toes. And I hope it bruises the bone.

Man. Fuck that guy.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

The Missing Grandma/Adventures In Boston, 2.0

I'll start part one off by saying my grandmother never leaves the house except to go out to eat once every never, and to go to her appointments. She's also on oxygen 24/7, and you can hear her machine running throughout the whole house.  Now that you know this, I can continue.

My parents went out yesterday to run a bunch of errands, and about a half hour later Jeff and I had to do the same. I assumed that, as always, my grandmother was home. I showered, got dressed, and we started to leave when I noticed the house was...unusually quiet. This house is never quiet. That's one thing I can always count on. I thought it weird that my grandmother would have gone with my parents to run a bunch of errands all day, as her idea of fun is watching MASH or The Waltons all day and being grumpy at everyone that walks by. So as we were walking out of the house I texted my mom:

Me: Please tell me you have Nana.
Mom: Damn, is she out wandering the streets again? (yes, we have her)
Me: Dammit, not again.
Mom: Nana who?

My mom is awesome.

And in other news, in case you somehow missed the memo, I got to go see Jenny Lawson in Brookline on Friday! It was honestly a fantastic couple hours of my life and I'm so glad I got to do it because I'll probably never do anything like that ever again in my life.

I'm sad because there were a ton of us there, probably at least a hundred people (I cannot count) and when it came time for the book signing, everyone scrambled to get up the stairs, understandably. The left side of the stairs, after I had already made it up the right side of the stairs alive and was excited, had been determined to be the line, and I would have to go all the way to the end and wait for hours. And that's when I realized I was surrounded by 100 strangers and I started to hyperventilate a little and had to leave the bookstore. Jeff went outside before me to get some fresh air and I joined him and he was all "?" and I was all "Ican'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan't" and almost started to cry right there on the sidewalk. So thanks, claustrophobia and anxiety, for being huge angry bitches during a very important moment in my life.

I still had a wonderful day with Jeff and I still got to be in the same room with my hero and hear her read one of my favorite chapters from her book. A woman who has most definitely saved me from myself a few times in the last few years, who I look up to a lot. I'll never be able to do that again, and I'm glad I got to. Even if my book goes unsigned forever.

So thank you, Jeffery, for helping me, for taking me, for making a day out of it, and for dealing with my grumpy/achy/sad self all day. You are wonderful and made of puppies and I love you a lot. (PS. I'm sorry I left my pants in your car again after all weekend I said I would take them out. I am a really good girlfriend, right?)

So that was my weekend. How was yours?

PS. I recognized a lot of faces at the event but I know I wouldn't have known any of the people there. It was actually creeping me out, how many faces I thought I knew.

Sunday, June 3, 2012

I'm Sick, So You Get A Blog Post

Yeah. I woke up this morning feeling like there was a burning lesion in my throat and ignored it and drank some water, hoping maybe it was just from dehydration during the night. But then it didn't go away and then got way worse and then I stabbed myself in the eye because I really fucking hate being sick. Ask anyone who has ever had to deal with me, online or off, when I'm sick. I'm fucking terrible. I'm all moody and weird and delirious and the only good part of being sick is when I attempt to talk and I sound all stuffy and adorable and people go "awww you're so cute with your delirium". Yes. Thanks.

PS. My mom gave me some Zicam so I can hopefully fend off this fucking cold sooner (my entire life, any time I've been sick I stay this sick for months. it's awful and no one likes it) and it kind of tastes like a moose's asshole in the last bit of it dissolving and the feeling of eating foot powder stays on your teeth but I can feel it working only 20 minutes later. Might be some placebo effect shit, but even if my brain tricks me into being better, I'm still...better, right? So I guess I'm telling you to try Zicam when you have a massive monster plague/cold because it might work. You're welcome for the advertisement, Zicam. You're welcome.

Anyway, so I really suck at being a blogger. And a blog reader. But the last couple weeks I've been what my mother calls "maybe-not-depression-but-definitely-chemically-unbalanced-somehow" and what always gets me through is bloggers. You. All of you. Because you're awesome.

And you know what else is awesome? The fact that this Friday I am going to this bookstore to this event to meet MY FUCKING HERO. Yes. I am so excited. I thought I wasn't going to be able to go, because the only person who loves me enough to go with me to something like this is Jeff and he's been working Friday nights for the last forever. But he has this one off. And we're going. And honestly, I've known about it for a few days but it's kind of just hit me and I want to throw up a little. Partly from excitement and partly because I've never done something like this before and being in a crowd of people who are most likely 100% awesome but are probably as socially horrific/anxiety-riddled as I am (birds of a feather and all) is going to be hard and probably really awkward. Like, a part of my brain wants me to like, write my blog's url on my arm or something so it can say for me "I'm a blogger too and I love everybody and we need to all be friends right now but I'm too dumb to figure out how to say words to strangers so I'm just going to nod and smile at you when you say words at me".

But I don't think any of that is socially acceptable and would look like I'm looking for people to read my blog. Which I always am. Bloggers always are hoping people will read their stuff and like it, even if some of us can't admit it. If we didn't want people to love us, we wouldn't blog publicly. We'd just keep journals in secret corners of our bedrooms and bathrooms that no one knows about. (I have three.)

Anyway, I'm hoping this post 1) makes sense because me + fever = weird shit that I look at the next day and go "What the fuck? Was I high?" And you know what? I might be.

You know I have a bad fever/ADD when I make a 1) and I forget completely that I had two points. My 2) was going to be that I hope it reaches any people in the New England area that are coming to Jenny's Brookline event this Friday and if you are, let's spend this week becoming friends. Okay? Okay.

PS. Am I the only person who totally flips out when one of their earbud rubber things falls off somewhere and you don't know where? Because that just happened and I almost flipped a shit. But I found it. It's important that I never lose one because my ear holes are two different sizes and that shit matters in earbud land. Alright, I'm cutting myself off now because I'm not sure what's going on anymore. I hope everybody has a good week/life/everything.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Adventures in Boston

For my birthday, my lovely Jeff took me to Boston for a day and we went to the Cheesecake Factory, because I really fucking love cheesecake and I've always wanted to go to a CF.

On the drive back to our home planet of New Hampshire after the long, chilly, windy, slightly rainy day, we were excited to get to go home and relax and were a little filled with energy and humor that had been wasted on the day.

Me: I was a little surprised to see 'grilled cheese' on the menu. Like, what kind of cheese would you like on that? Kraft. Individually wrapped.
Him: Just a block of cheese. And you have to cut it yourself.
Me: No, they just bring you two slices of bread and a cow. "Make it yourself." And the waiter is actually a cow.

I love him. He supports my bad humor and lame jokes.

And I found this snippet of conversation in my phone's notepad, but I don't remember what the context may have been:
Me: Your crotch always helps.
Him: Well, I do my best.

Coming soon is the tale of Adventures at the Movies, 2.0 where annoying little girls ruin my preview experience.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Explosions and Pants

We're watching Face Off and in this episode they have to create Tim Burton-like characters based off of real jobs, like toymakers, and mailmen, ice cream men and such. The guy who picked the ice cream man said "He's an ice cream inventor, and his lab exploded and fused his DNA, so now he's half-man, half...ice cream."

Me: Why is it always that? Why is it always that their lab exploded and their DNA is now combined with the DNA of something else? Why does it always have to be "my lab exploded so now I am half-man...half ice cream."
Amy: There was an explosion in my pants and now I'm half vagina.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Laughing Man

Everyone has been to the movies, right? And everyone has had some bad or really bad experiences at said movies. Me, I've had my fair share in my life and I hope to never have more because one day I honestly might snap and shank a few handfuls of bitches.

Everyone at least once in their life experiences The Laughing Man. You know, that one guy who always sits in the exact middle of the theater, in the middle of the middle row. He usually has some family with him because the Laughing Man never travels alone. The Laughing Man seems harmless at first, not too chatty during the pre-preview trivia slideshows clipped to shitty 90's hits. He's not too bad during the previews, making comments here and there about whatever commercial or trailer seemed interesting, but everyone does that. That is forgiven. People who don't talk about the previews are not properly experiencing movies.

No, The Laughing Man lulls you into a false sense of security. He makes you believe you are about to have a joyous movie experience. Oh, my dear friends, The Laughing Man is about to violently shit all over your life.

A few weeks ago, my Jeffery and I went to the movies to see the new Sherlock Holmes. For the record, it was really good. It would have been better were it not for...The Laughing Man.

I thought we may be in trouble the moment we walked into the theater and it was already half-packed. I knew our chances of finding Laughing Man or Sleeping Guy or Hacks-Up-A-Lung McGee were very high, with so many people in this damn theater. If I'd had any idea what was coming, I would have picked a different seat.

Like I said, the movie was really good. It had dramatic moments, it had sad moments. It had more than a few funny moments, as well. Or they would have been funny, if it were not for The Laughing Man.

You see, any time anything remotely funny happened, this Man would guffaw as if it was his job. He guffawed like he would never guffaw again. He guffawed as though the funniest thing in the world just happened and then someone held a gun to his head and demanded he guffaw as loudly as possible. I am 100% certain it is this man's life duty to go to movie theaters and make the rest of the audience as uncomfortable as is physically possible.

For example (the only example I have because it's the only part I can remember almost verbatim):
Holmes: Who taught you how to dance?
Watson: You did.
Holmes: I did a very good job.
Laughing Asshole: A-HAW HAW HAW HAW A-HAWHAW HAWHAHWHAWHAW!!!
Rest of the theater: umm...?

In that moment, 100 strangers were all thinking the same thing: what the everlasting, actual, bleeding fuck.

Pretty soon we all grew to expect it and could no longer laugh at things that actually were really funny. The Laughing Man ruined it for us. He made laughing in a movie theater taboo. Nothing made sense anymore. Gravity went up, dogs meow, trees are made of steel and hatred. And I, innocent little Sarah Elizabeth of Asstown, Massachusetts, am no longer allowed to enjoy a movie.

The best part? We were sitting next to him. There were a few seats between Jeff and Laughing Dickbag but. We were still and unfortunately far too close.

Have you ever had someone kick the back of your chair? Have you ever had someone kick the back of your chair repeatedly even after you've turned around and given them your best death glare because if you were to actually say something like "stop kicking my chair, you useless sack of meaty parts, or I will hunt down your mother and make her regret giving birth to you" you might get your ass kicked? Yeah. The guy behind me turned out to be some sort of motherfucking soccer champion or something. That sumbitch just would not quit. And then. And then, y'all. He took off his shoes, put his dirty, fat, sweaty feet on the back of my armrests, and wiggled his toes on my arm.

*Yeah.*

That's not okay to do in any universe, on any planet, in any solar system. Fuck off, Toesy McFuckwit.

When the movie was over, both The Laughing Man and Toesy Dickcheese left the theater as if they hadn't just ruined my movie experience. I wish I'd told them.

At least Jeff and I, on our meander through the parking lot made fun of Laughing I've-Had-A-Lobotomy-Twice Man and I felt much better.