- So I guess my Roseanne theory just got its dick pounded down into the dirt. Shame.
- Quote of the day: “I’m still a deep, deep, deep, deep, deep-fried cunt.” – Duncan Trussell on the Duncan Trussell Family Hour (David Arquette episode)
- LEGION and GOTHAM – though from different comic universes – are both very cool shows. LEGION especially has me entranced.
- If you ever have to give insulin shots to a cat twice a day, load up a bunch of syringes at once and keep them in a cup in the fridge. Life is much easier when all you have to do is grab a pre-measured dose from the up. Especially first thing in the morning.
- I am playing a new game with myself called Don’t Think About That Right Now. I will let you know if I win.
- I am moving Future Annie out of the managed care facility and into a nicer apartment. It is the least I can do for someone who doesn’t yet exist.
- I am tweeting again. I am not sure why. But I am going to try to take it the opposite of seriously because Twitter Lynch Mobs are some terrifying kind of bullshit.
- I read that we should all turn our routers off and then back on because of a router hacking threat. Besides maybe resetting the IP, I am not sure what this does. But I did it anyway because bah I am a sheep.
- I am hypomanic. It was sucking hardcore but now appears to be getting better. There is not much to report but if I do anything especially bizarre I will let y’all know about it.
- I was reading an Amazon review and the review was for scar gel… And it started out “On such and such date, my husband bit me in the face” and there were PICTURES and yes, indeed, that was a human bite, right beneath her eye, huge deep teethmarks on her cheek. The review had 470 helpful votes.
At least six people on TV have said “Suffice it to say” just in the last few days. It is nearly a verbal epidemic! I always thought the correct usage was “suffice to say”. Since this is a matter of most dire importance, I Googled it. This is what I found.
Apparently, both are sorta correct.
Agreement, agreeance, a historical, an historical… Oh, that zany English language just keeps me guessing!
I’m on Instagram now under the handle anhedonicblonde (how predictable, yeah?).
Because of their voices, I thought Dan Mintz and Nathan Fielder were the same person for a while there. I blame cognitive fog. Which means that yeah, to my ears, Nathan Fielder sounds like Tina Belcher, a little bit. Or more. To me, anyway.
Yep. Two different people. (Or three, say the voices in my head. Shhh, voices. Cartoons are not people.)
The natural human inclination when having a positive emotion is to share it, and so it stands to reason that one response to negative emotion is isolation. I isolate a lot, and I am doing it now. This makes holding a resolution to post every day somewhat difficult, as the wheels are definitely turning, but there’s only enough horsepower for one person to ride. Meaning sharing my thoughts is not exactly something that is currently “true, kind, and necessary”. So I think that the resolution, like most resolutions, will go in that big steaming pile of good intentions that need melting down to be turned into asphalt to pave that Road to Hell. Besides, there isn’t much point in posting every day when one has little of import to say.
I’m starting to notice the ups and downs that come with being bipolar. Before I just thought it was me who sucked, as I couldn’t even be a stable depressive, just evenly down there in the pit, you know, having just a steady depressed mood, but instead all over the place like some sort of lunatic Superball – but now I know I have company, because I have a sucky illness that causes those frequent ups and downs (Upson Downs! Mame! So good to see you!), and also this weird dip at a certain time of the month (no, not that one), where I am submerged not only in anhedonia but extreme avolition and anxiety as well. I’m triple A, but I can’t tow your car.
Speaking of cars, mine just sits. I got a letter about the recall saying don’t drive it, it could cause a fire just sitting in the parking lot, and oh yeah, there are no parts available to fix it and we don’t know when there will be but have a great day! Actually the letter did not say to have a great day. I made that part up. I should make up some parts for my car while I”m at it. What the hell do I do with my car now?
And should a person with a history with trauma be taking an online course on Positive Psychology? I thought it was a good idea, but now I’m being asked to relive all these good memories that I unfortunately either do not have or cannot access, and it’s kinda harshing my edubuzz. I had hopes of picking up some sort of new Tools of Positivity that I had not yet encountered in my readings, some Ingredient X that would turn me into a happy cheerful Powerpuff Girl (Bubbles, the blonde one), but instead I’m finding The Lack Within.
I suppose I will keep at it, since it’s not turning a big crank or anything, it’s merely watching videos and taking the occasional quiz. Maybe something Super Positive Happy Time will jump out at me and change my world like fairy dust. Or eat my spine. Now I’m anthropomorphizing the class. Probably not in the syllabus.
Don’t ask why, but I added “edubuzz” to the dictionary. Like I’m going to be using that a lot and don’t want to misspell it?
Wow, a lot of nonsense for someone who wasn’t going to post.
Ash vs Evil Dead is one of the best damn shows on television. Love it, love everything about it. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: Groovy, baby.
Yes, I’m a closet horror geek, and to that end, iZombie has a soft spot in my heart, too, particularly with their little inside jokes (any show that makes Spinal Tap references is a friend of mine). I just binge-watched this and while it’s not The Strain, it’s not supposed to be. Tongue in cheek is good, especially when the tongue is someone else’s. Wait, what?
Scream Queens is over, alas, but that was a fun ride. I’m still trying for cohesion with Ryan Murphy’s other current project, AHS:Hotel – it just doesn’t seem to be clicking the way his past Horrors have, for some reason – Angela Bassett seems underused, but I will say that Evan Peters deserves a bloody Emmy (and I do mean bloody) for his wonderful portrayal of James March. I’ve heard podcasters refer to his accent as being derivative of Auntie Mame, and I love that call. His stellar performance and Liz Taylor are the raison d’être for borrowing an FXNOW password and firing up the Roku.
I do not have cats. I have sandspurs. They stick you and they stick to things. So I am not a Crazy Cat Lady. I am a Crazy Sandspur Lady. And if they don’t knock it off, they’re gonna be sandspurs that jingle-jangle-jingle (jingle-jangle…). Ouch.
Popcorn lung, huh? So says a study funded by Big Tobacco, who of course would have absolutely no reason to try to make vaping look bad, right? Virgin Vapor, who makes the e-juices I use personally, does not put diacetyl in their e-juice. So I’m not getting popcorn lung using Virgin Vapor. And you won’t either. VirginVapor.com. I was not paid to say this. They just rock, pure and simple (and organic).
I’ve said that a few times now. “I’m not getting paid to say this.” Who in fresh hell would pay me to say anything? Would you? Of course you wouldn’t. So why do I feel the need to keep announcing this? Head. Needs examining. Oh, wait. That’s also pointless to point out. Nevermind.
My roommate is a cosplayer and he makes the coolest shit ever. He’s building Superior Spiderman Legs right now that are fully functional. How neat is that?
I’ve been on an earring making kick lately. I can’t seem to do much else. I mean that sincerely. I’m having difficulty doing things. Avolition. The computer doesn’t know that word. Nor does it know who Spiderman is. The computer lives a more limited life than I do, apparently. Luckily I have a shrink appointment soon. I may sound breezy but within there is little air motion. No breezes there. And really shitty metaphors. Really bad. Damn. Just terrible. I am in need of microdermabrasion of the soul.
Speaking of which: BuzzFeed’s Mental Health Week has been pretty great. Fantastic articles, all. I highly recommend. Check my Flipboard page and dig around to find a bunch of them if you are so inclined. Lie down if you’d care to be so reclined. Ha.
This round of non-sequiturs containing absolutely no useful information whatsoever was not brought to you by Farm Stores egg nog, a cup of which contains enough calories to dangerously sustain sugar-crashing life for a month. Why? Because no one paid me to say anything, that’s why.
And so nothing is precisely what I said. 😉
Pretty heady title there, isn’t it? Well, I promise I’m going to make good on it. I really do have a way to save big money on Amazon. Not on every single thing on the site, mind you – but on selected items that actually do include stuff like (currently) a hoverboard and bluetooth speakers and the like. Cool stuff. Expensive face creams and nutritional supplements. Whiskey stones and wine aerators. Memory foam back support for your car. Laptop batteries. Himalayan Salt Lamps. Neat things like that. They change all the time. So what the hell am I talking about anyway?
Well, there is this site called Snagshout – which I am not affiliated with in any way, and who is not paying or compensating me in the least for saying this and in fact doesn’t even KNOW I’m saying this – that gives you deep deep discounts on stuff on Amazon. There is a catch. You have to review the stuff you get deals on. It works like this. You choose something you want. You pay the predetermined amount for it, ranging from free to whatever (the hoverboard is like, $245 or something, I don’t know how much it’s discounted. I got some $40 eye serum for $1. There’s all price ranges for all sorts of things). Anyway. After your deal arrives, you review it on Amazon, alert Snagshout of your review (in which you mention that you got a discount in exchange for your honest and unbiased review), and then, voila! Time for you to snag another goody.
So far I’ve just gotten a couple of freebies and very low cost stuff – like origami paper for 99 cents and the aforementioned dollar luxury eye serum – as I am the “below the poverty line” type – but you can pick and choose whatever. You do pay shipping so it’s best if you have Amazon Prime.
So there you have it! Go on over to Snagshout and check it out, and hopefully you will find something you like. Just don’t get the bark control collar – those are so cruel. See why your dog is barking instead and soothe the little guy. Don’t shock him with electricity. Geez. Mean, right? Get him a new leash instead. The site has those, too.
Sometimes danger lurks in dramatic exchanges, comes dressed in the sartorial splendor of spectacle, shouts its own name in true narcissistic fashion, or otherwise announces its presence so that you know, hey, Here Comes Trouble. There is no question, because of the high theater accompanying the bad mojo. But other times, it can just skulk right on up to you and be so freaking boring that you have absolutely no idea who you are dealing with. You can be brushing elbows with the Worst of the Worst and have but a tiny boring anecdote to show for it. And you are thankful for that, because things could have been so Much More Awful. Instead, they are so boring, you don’t even bother telling people that you had a chat with a serial killer.
So it goes that I have waited what, sixteen – nearly seventeen? – years to recount my interaction with the man known as the Internet’s first serial killer. Yes, I chatted very, very briefly with John Edward Robinson, and was basically invited to take my place among the dead women in barrels that he was collecting at the time. Only I would only find this out after the fact, after he was apprehended for the torture and murder of these women.
See, I was but a tadpole at the time, which was 1999 – naive and goofy (now I’m just goofy), playing around with Yahoo messenger. It was back before the dotcom bust and I was working as a coder making web pages. A message popped up in front of me from some guy – some idiot, I remember thinking – who called himself “Slavemaster”. And “Slavemaster” had a question for me, based on looking at my profile.
At this point in time, he was pretty close to getting caught – and in fact the investigation into him did cross into Florida, farther south than where I am, but still close enough to be creepy. And it’s not surprising he did get caught, because this question he asked me was stupid and sloppy and there’s no way that any intelligent or even semi-braindead person could find his offer attractive. He wanted to know if I wanted to move, sight unseen – and this is his very first and only message to me, remember – to his place in another state so he could breed me.
You need to be seriously fucked in the head to think that anyone is going to say Yes to that. Or be seriously fucked in the head to consider that as a serious offer and not instead the sign of a diseased mind. Expletives were typed into the little Yahoo box, and I clicked send and then x’d out. And didn’t give it another thought until I heard on the news about a month later that a man calling himself the Slavemaster on Yahoo had been torturing and killing women and putting them in barrels, after having them sign pieces of paper upon which he wrote letters to their families saying they no longer wanted any contact with them. He took over their finances and their lives and then he took their actual lives and buried them in big industrial barrels.
I am assuming, having limited my reading about this guy, that he had a better hustle with these other women, and that he was just getting cocky, as I said, and that’s what got him caught. I’m assuming that he had a good ploy to draw them in, that he gained their trust somehow. I am assuming he was not this total obvious dumbass when he lured them into his web of torture and death.
But for my part, to quote the Sundays, here’s where the story ends. Obvious weirdo was obvious. I told him to fuck off, not knowing I was cursing out a serial killer. Oh, I was shocked when I find out with whom I was so flippant, for sure. And an aversion to the films MEGAN IS MISSING and SCRAPBOOK, both of which feature women being put into those same kinds of barrels, follows me to this day.
More than that, though, there is a lesson here, I think. And that is that these things are not always so apparent. That group of people that acts so openly like a cult that you think, Nah, they couldn’t be a cult cause a cult would never act so cultish in public? Probably a cult, y’all. (Yeah, I had a run-in with one of those, too. Same year, I think, actually. What a great year for me, huh?) And the obvious weirdo? Maybe he’s just weird, but he could also be killing chicks and putting them in barrels, you don’t know. They always say it’s the quiet ones, the ones you don’t suspect. But sometimes, it can be the ones you do suspect, too. It could even be the ones to whom you say something like, “Are you really that fucking stupid to ask something like that?”
Okay, maybe it’s not the most banal story I could tell. I guess the cult story is more boring. The moral of the story is, if someone asks if they can breed you, say no, but maybe be polite, cause you never know who you’re speaking with. Or, you know, don’t answer at all. There is always that option, too.