Sunday, May 11, 2014
2013 was a really crappy year, and when I look back at it now I try to make some of it funny. Like when my grandmother died the day before Easter after being in the hospital for about a month straight, getting better and then getting worse, then getting better and then getting WAY WORSE, and then getting better! And then she died. Like, Friday night when my mom left the hospital, she said "She might just pull through this" and at 10AM Saturday morning I got the "she's gone" text. Her doctors were shocked, because most people don't boomerang that much and still come out of it okay. And, yeah, she didn't come out of it okay, but if she HAD, she probably could have ended up in some low-brow medical journal. That's how resilient that old woman was.
In her lifetime, my grandmother survived a shitton of really fucked up shit. Her entire arm being sliced open and her artery exposed, a few plagues probably, tons of viruses that should have killed her, two childbirths in the 70s, many a beating from really shitty abusive men, the death of her husband, a severe bowel obstruction, FIVE! heart attacks, a triple bypass, CO2 poisoning over the course of 8 months, and then whatever it was that landed her in the hospital for the last time and eventually killed her.
Like, whatever plans God (or whoever) had for her, I hope she actually accomplished them because holy shit. What if she didn't? Or what if God never had any plans for her and she just kept surviving this shit on accident and he was up there like "Seriously, June, what the fuck? How many things do I have to throw at you before you finally kick the bucket? You were born in the 40's, and you lived through the whole 'lead water' thing, and that was fine, but seriously. Heart attacks, PLURAL? MAJOR HEART SURGERY? NURSING HOMES? This is what you live through? Fine, whatever. Fuck it. I give up. I'm not in charge of trying to kill you anymore. You're never gonna die anyway." And then as soon as he gave up trying to kill her she died.
...I hope God doesn't read my blog, because he probably wouldn't be happy that I gave him a pottymouth.
Anyway, it's probably good that my grandmother was so resilient, because it means maybe I have okay genes? Like, a ton of things are going to try to kill me in my life, and hopefully they don't succeed. And if they do, you guys know why: Because my grandmother pissed off God so bad that he gave up trying to kill my family, which means we're all going to die horrible, painful deaths.
In all seriousness, though, I miss her a lot, and I'm really sad she's gone and March 30th every year is going to be hard on me for probably the rest of my life. But, hey. At least she's pissing off God directly.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
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
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
Monday, August 13, 2012
Sunday, June 24, 2012
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.
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
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
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
I love him. He supports my bad humor and lame jokes.