Inverse Candlelight

I Hate Christmas

2009-11-09T16:16:19-05:00

Well, it's November, and that means we're tits-deep in Christmas commercials. I hate them. I hate Christmas. I hate everything about the holiday season, and that's a fact. Call me a Scrooge, whatever. I hate it all, and I'll tell you why.

I hate Christmas because....Because....I don't know. It always leads up to an expectation that is never fulfilled, and is SUPER DEPRESSING. And the MUSIC. It's enough to make a person stab themselves in the ear canal. Lemme 'splain.

Back in the day, I was a singer. That's all blown to shit now because my intubation when I was in the coma destroyed my voice, but before then, I was a singer. And LAWD did I sing. All the time! You couldn't shut me up for love or money. And because I was a singer, and went to an all girls Catholic school, I was in choir. And we sang. AH MAH GAH did we sing. We sang until the fucking cows came home. And boy oh boy, did we sing for Christmas. And that's when the hate took root.

You have to understand, when I was in Catholic school, I looked like this:

and I sang the songs. BECAUSE I WAS TERRIFIED. Terrified of what the nuns would do to me if I DIDN'T sing. Goddamn, look at my chicken legs. Pitiful.

So yes, I sang Christmas carols and never ever got anything I wanted for Christmas, because my mother is very practical, and would take me to the mall to get clothes and then HIDE THEM FROM ME and that was Christmas, the end. And I still looked like a deer in headlights.

So fast forward 20 years. I'm 32. I can't sing anymore. (Huge very very sad post about that DELETED) and now they're playing Christmas carols three hours after Halloween. And it gives me a twitch. Because I hate Christmas. I hate the buildup, like for some reason I'll get the Barbie Dream House this year even though I'm in my 30s, when in actuality, I'll get a sweater. Again. Christmas is a buildup that results in NOTHING. And I hate it.

Jeebus, this is the most depressing post ever. I'm sorry, I'll be back later to bring the funny.

(I still hate Christmas)

SLANDER!

2009-11-07T12:57:26-05:00

Scotsman: I can't believe you killed that cat.

Me: WHAT? I didn't kill any cats!

Scotsman: Killed that cat dead. With your evil.

Me: I will not tolerate such BLASPHEMY.

Scotsman: The cat knew you hated it and it up and died rather than have you take care of it again.

Me: See how you are...

Scotsman: Cat killer.

Me: ...SO FULL OF HATE.

Scotsman: Poor little kitty cat. You're a murderer, you know.

Me: I cannot believe you are accusing me of killing Alexander. The cat had a STROKE. I had NOTHING TO DO WITH IT.

Scotsman: And now you're gonna kill that goldfish.

Me: It's a BETTA FISH.

Scotsman: It could be any sort of fish in the sea, you're still going to kill it.

Me: *high pitched whine*

Scotsman: Poor little fishy.

Me: I'm so pleased you have such a high opinion of me.

Scotsman: PET KILLER.

Me: This conversation is over. The fish is alive. It hasn't gotten eaten by a cat, not even a little. The fish WILL LIVE.

Scotsman: Yeah, right. You're the Typhoid Mary of petsitting.

Me: *sob*

Scotsman: Truth hurts, baby.

Me: *whimper.*

Live, you aquatic bastard! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!!!!!!

LIVE!!! I WILL FIND YOU, NO MATTER WHAT OCCURS!!

2009-11-05T13:04:31-05:00

Many of you readers might remember Alexander the Great, the cat I took care of a few months ago.

Well. He up and died.

Died! Had a stroke and DIED. That's not cool. I'm sorry I made fun of you, ghost of Alexander!!! And I'm wicked happy you didn't up and die on MY WATCH. Cause that would have sucked.

Well now your mama is bereft. And she has....Oh lord. She has...A GOLDFISH.

GUESS WHO IS TAKING CARE OF THE FUCKING GOLDFISH FOR A MONTH!???!?????

I'm sorry. He's not a goldfish. He's a betta fish. And I need to keep him alive for a month.

Dios Mio,

I have two cats. And a betta fish. Please tell me what I can do. It would destroy my poor neighbor if my cats ate her goddamn fish. HOW DO I GET INTO THESE SITUATIONS?!??????????

5:10 AM

2009-11-05T05:25:05-05:00

*lick lick lick lick lick*

What the fu....

*tap tap tap tap tap*

DUDE.

*lick lick lick lick*

It's FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE GODDAMN MORNING.

*lick lick lick lick lick*

You have GOT to be kidding me.

*tap tap tap tap tap*

You need a manicure, little girl.

*TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP*

Seriously? Seriously.

*TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP*

OKAY I'M UP. What the fuck do you WANT?!??????

*trot trot trot trot trot* Mow.

What, the food bowl?

MOW.

There's food in the bowl.

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW.

Okay, I'll mix it up. There. Fancy new food.

MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW.

Dude. Seriously.

*walks off, pissed.*

My ass is going back to bed.

Mow?

MOTHERFUCKER.

Mow? Mow. WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Okay! I'm dumping the food and putting new food in.

*giggles* Mow.

I hate you.

Mow.

I SERIOUSLY HATE YOU.

Mow.

*chomping*

You realize the sun isn't even up.

*smug* Mow.

I HATE YOU.

Mow.

Oh look, Ronco knives paid programming!

*dissolves, laughing*

I hate you.

In Case You Forgot How Clumsy I Am

2009-10-25T00:53:09-04:00

So I've been sick. Sick! Pity me. Except don't, because it was probably that soy milk that said it was a week over expiration. So MAYBE it was my fault. Be quiet, I don't want to hear it from you anymore.

The point is that my daddoo, he of the surgery and the pain and the fury and he REALLY can't believe I've never read The Grapes of Wrath and is personally offended by it, y'all, he is nothing but a slave to spectacle. Much like his daughter! So he threw this onto Facebook. Yes, my dad's on Facebook. I know, I know, he's wicked awesome, yah, dood.

Look how buff my daddoo's back is! Damn right. Anyhoodle, I go onto Facebook, copy this image everywhere, and start yelling "MY DAD GOT IN A KNIFE FIGHT! YEAH!!!!!!" The fact that he had titled the picture "You should see the other guy" should explain how my family works.

Not very coherently, is the answer.

So I start yelling about my dad getting shanked, and how cool he is, and how he said it himself, you should see the other guy, and then I go to the store.

This was the first mistake.

I never should have left the house. I'm not well. I feel like crap, actually, and I'm hella nauseated, and a bit shaky. So let's go DRIVE THE CAR, what a fantastic idea. So I go to Shoprite, a mile under the speed limit the whole time, to fetch some seltzer. Because I am 90 years old.

And as I walk into the Shoprite the following happens.

Woosh! Goes my foot on the traffic paint.

Blammo! Go my thighs, separating.

WHAMMO! Go my ladybits, hitting the pavement.

SMASH! Go my palms on the ground.

And there I was. Spread eagled on the pavement of the Shoprite parking lot, frantically gathering the contents of my oversized purse as I tried to cover my shame.

Shame? Oh, you want to hear about shame? I was wearing the Pink Crocs Of Shame. Serves me right. Also? No wonder I can't ever get a date.

So that's Saturday. I biff big time on the pavement, my dad gets in a knife fight, and everyone has a good laugh at the Banshee household.

Grand. Juuuuuust grand. But remember, my daddoo? Will totally cut you. Totally.

Maybe Someday He'll Forgive Me

2009-10-22T07:54:37-04:00

Oh y'all. My poor Daddoo.

So my dad has a herniated disc in his back, and it's been giving him excruciating pain for months now. I KNOW! Not funny at all. So he went in for surgery yesterday, and after MANY HOURS AH MAH GAH he came out of it fit as a fiddle (what, am I on Little House on the freaking Prairie now?) and insisting he was going to go home.

Hint: He ain't coming home for a few days.

For those of you who don't know my Dad, he's a very stoic person. He doesn't get emotional. Nope, he's way too cool for that. So cool, in fact, that this little exchange happened yesterday when I called the hospital room. (I know better than to come visit. Oh the shame!)

Me: Okay, dad, glad you're doing okay, I love you!

Dad: Yep.

Me: Love you!

Dad: That too.

Me: I LOVE YOU, DAD.

Dad: Yep. Me too.

That's when I gave up. You see, my dad's been teaching teenagers his whole adult life. He's learned to be cool. You should have seen him when I admitted I had never read "The Grapes of Wrath." THEN he got stern. THEN he showed an emotion. But telling my dad I love him? After major surgery? I get a "yep."

Anyway, I'm sure he's over at the hospital giving everyone shit cause he can't come home today. Because he's a pain in the ass. He's also my Dad, and I love him to bits.

Yep.

Saying Someone Influenced Me Might Not Be A Compliment

2009-10-22T06:51:12-04:00

Okay, first things first. I can BARELY TYPE right now. Why? Are my hands hurt? Do I have a brain injury? NO. I...wait for it...cut my fingernails. I have no idea how to type with short nails, as I have been writing with HELLA LONG NAILS PAINTED BLACK OH MAN YOU MAKE A STATEMENT and this mornin at 6:31 am I cut them all off and holy shit, I can't type! So this obviously means I need to work on more bloggy. Try to stop me!!!!!!

So let me tell you about this incredibly awesome person named Leigh. Her internet name is MISS DOXIE and she rules. She's the person who was funny enough to make me say "Hey. I've been known to be funny at times, let me write a blog, and perhaps I can be funny for the public." That's how powerful she is. If it weren't for Miss Doxie, I wouldn't have a blog.

So Miss Doxie ran into some pretty serious depression and didn't write on her blog for a WHOLE YEAR. And those of us who had her on our Google Readers or checked her site every day waited faithfully for her to come back. Because Doxie is the funniest person on the internet, so she HAD to come back, right?

Well today she did. And you should go right ahead and bookmark her, cause she's getting back in the writing groove, she needs a lot of love, and mostly? You need to explore her archives, cause seriously? Seriously. She's the reason I blog. And she's WICKED FUNNY AH MAH GAH.

Hilarious shit about my dad and surgery and he's TOTALLY FINE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN later today. Go read Miss Doxie's archives. You will be very happy you did.

My Motivation...

2009-10-17T12:30:14-04:00

Um, I think I might have a problem.

You see, I found this program? To make motivational posters?

And now I can't stop.

It's getting problematic.

I'm making them for EVERYTHING.

Even shows I don't watch!

My friends are starting to worry

And I just keep sending them more

So I leave it to y'all now

Give me a movie or television show and I'll make a motivator!

Or a musician!

And I'm sorry if some of these make no sense to you

But if you followed me on Twitter? Everything would make sense.

Or maybe I know too many inside jokes.

A real blog post is coming, it's just that I haven't slept in a couple of days and I'm a little punchy.

So hit the comments and I'll make more Motivators!

Okay, last one, promise.

Kisses!

The Real Happiest Place On Earth

2009-10-09T13:56:27-04:00

The real happiest place on goddamn earth is the corner of Main Street USA at Disney World during the fireworks, and I'll tell you why.

I went to Disney World for the second time in my life when I was 30. I was skeptical of the Big Fun that would happen, to say the least, but damn if I didn't fall hook line and sinker for the Mouse and his minions. I love Disney World, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

But what do I love more than Disney World? SMOKING AT DISNEY WORLD. You still can smoke in veeeeery limited areas at Disney and Epcot, and let me tell you, I searched out those places like I was freaking Columbus discovering the New World. I can tell you ALL the smoking corners and hidey-holes in the Magic Kingdom. I found ALL of them. Hidden Mickeys nothing, I can draw you an elaborate map of where you can light up. PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY, PEOPLE.

Anyway, the reason my punk ass found that corner of Main Street USA was because it was the end of a very long Disney day, my feet were KILLING me, and I just wanted to leave. But even more than that, I wanted to smoke. And I didn't have a working lighter. This was a massive crisis.

Luckily, I wasn't watching the fireworks, and instead saw a cute Disney Team Member putting chairs, etc. up for the night. No one was looking. I made my move:

Me: Psst.

Disney Team Member: Um, hello.

Me: I need a light.

DTM: Sorry?

Me: You heard me. I need to smoke, and I need to smoke NOW. Gimme your lighter.

DTM: I...don't have one.

Me: KING OF LIES.

DTM: I could be fired for that!

Me: No one is looking. PLEASE help a sister out. I've been here all day, the sensory overload is going to drive me directly to the lunatic asylum if I don't get a smoke in. PLEASE, you KNOW you have matches. You people HAVE to smoke, how else could you stand it around here every day, SHOW ME THE GOODS.

DTM: Wow.

Me: Not playing around here, Buster.

The DTM then looked around, convinced ol' Walt himself was going to pop up and fire his ass, and gave me a light. I HAD WON. I had CORRUPTED a Disney Team Member. I was AWESOME.

And I had a cigarette. So there was no bloodshed that night. And we all lived happily ever after.

*except the DTM, who probably got fired. Oops!

A Message From Lulu

2009-10-08T13:57:01-04:00

Hello, pathetic humans. It is I, Lulu. Look deeply into my eyes and relax. That's it. Your will is now in my hands. Isn't that easier than thinking for yourselves? Of course it is. Now, aren't I pretty? The answer is yes, of course. The humans agree and no one gets hurt.

I am here to clear my name, as I have been reading the human female's tweets and Facebook updates, and I have found that she has been so bold as to incriminate me, Lulu. This of course is shameful, these blatant lies. So I have taken it upon myself to tell you what's been going on around here instead of entrusting your simple, soft human minds to the human female.

She can't be trusted. But you trust Lulu, don't you? Of course you do.

So what is the human female lying about? WELL. She stated on a friend's status update that I, Lulu, jammed a claw into her face the other day while patting her cheek. Patting her cheek! Like I'm some desperate slut looking for attention and head scritches! Obviously this is a LIE. I was NOT looking for head scritches, I was SLAPPING HER across the face because she was eleven minutes late in feeding me! And if she's so lazy that she neglected my manicure/pedicure and I hooked a razor sharp claw into her face? Well I can't be blamed. I am but an innocent bystander.

She also has neglected to inform you that I do the same thing to her when she attempts to slumber away in the mornings. Listen, human. I am up bright and early with the sun in the mornings, and I expect to be fed and complimented IMMEDIATELY. No, I don't care that it's only 5 AM. I sleep for 20 hours a day, you will sleep according to MY schedule, and awake when I insist on it.

They're not LOVE PATS. They are backhanded SLAPS. It's the only way the human learns.

Lest you think I am an unforgiving mistress, when I am properly cared for, fed, and complimented, I will deign to sleep next to the human female while she writes. I will be near the human out of the kindness of my heart! I am so kind! So GENEROUS.

And if that wretched wench tells you that I snore like an outboard motor, I'll steal her breath in her sleep.

That's enough for you from me, Lulu. Carry on, and behave in a way that is proper and to the benefit of me, your lord and mistress.

PS: I don't snore.

PPS: Or give cheek pats.

PPPS: I hate you. Stop laughing.

Lulu