Coincidentally…


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Yes.  It’s a new year.  I have to say, I’m tired of that whole phrase ‘New Year, New You!’

Why don’t we say Happy Old Year?  Because no one really really changes like they think they will at midnight.  I’ve never seen anyone click over into a new person.  Have you?  Nope.  Never.  We don’t change January 1st.  We change over long hours, weeks, months, years…

We can choose to start adding in new habits or resisting sassy habits, but we cannot change.

Something I want to slowly change into is a somewhat decent writer.  A comedy writer perhaps.  Do I think I’m funny now?  I don’t know…I don’t really think so.  I know that I make myself giggle about strange, awkward situations in my head…but I really don’t know if I make others giggle through words.  Am I making you laugh right now?

See.

I’m not funny.  I strive to be.  That’s my new goal for myself.  Not necessarily for this year, but forever.  So, as you can see…I’ve signed up for a class through The Second City in Chicago.  It’s an online Screenwriting class for now, and who knows what it could turn into.  I think I’m ready for some honest critique and feedback.  I appreciate all the times that you blessed readers like my posts, but I think I need a professional opinion.  I need someone to tell me that I use those three periods too much or that I make too many run-on sentences or that they can’t visualize the brown, slimy banana peel that I may or may not have slipped on or to simply say that I have a good start and should keep working and revising and editing.

Blarg!

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Happy election day!


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I love election days.  I do.

I suppose I don’t really love politics and picking sides and the inability to compromise, but I love seeing swarms of people all dressed and ready for their days stopping in to get their sticker. I love that everyone is super friendly and helpful.  There’s a buzz of energy, excitement, and anticipation.  Perhaps a little fear too.  I love that I vote at the park by the lake…never mind dodging goose poop.  I love that everyone smiles and nods at one another because we’re grateful and thankful to be able to voice our choice. 

During my ten minutes of voting on  election day, it feels like it’s not about winning or losing…it feels like it’s about community and smiling at my neighbors. 

I have to admit it gets me a little choked up when I see all these people taking a little time out to do what they are asked to do.  I’m such a sap.  I will also get teared up when I see the happy winners on the news, regardless of which party, because it all started with these lovely people at the park.

Zombie bacon?


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Is it made out of people?  That’s what zombies eat, right? People?? Brains??

Strawberry vanilla?  It looks kind of delicious though….like a sour patch kid.  Sour kid’s brains prepackaged for all your zombie needs.  Yum….

Progressive zombies of the future will protest against gmo zombie bacon and overly processed brains.  They will strive to only ingest organic human brains with the highest amount of omega-3’s.  They’ll be juicing us to ingest the maximum amount of micronutrients in our delicious flesh. 

Juicing us.  Morbid. 

Primary


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People like to say that they could’ve made this piece of art.  They could’ve.  But they didn’t.

People like to say they hate it because it’s minimal and takes very little talent to paint a whole canvas a solid primary color.

People like to be critical.

People like to think they know everything about art.

Guess who loved this piece?  This 6 year old lovely.  Yes.  Art doesn’t have to be complex and inventive to be great.  It can be whatever it wants.  People will still run through the museum to get to it after looking at sterile still lives and portraits.  This 6 year old ran because it’s familiar and comforting and she can relate to it even though she doesn’t know the deep seeded meaning behind it.  People will still stretch their arms out and say, ‘This one is my favorite!’ just like she did.

Word to your mother.

Adios!


I did it. I deleted my fucking Facebook account.  Like, not deactivated, but totally deleted.

I feel free. Free from all the politics and whining and pictures of dinners and invites to events I’ll never go to…free from scrolling through bullshit and being fully aware that it’s all bullshit…free to use my time more wisely!

Well…it’ll be officially deleted after 14 days per the Facebook powers that be.  It’s weird how everyone nowadays corresponds through Facebook and they’re baffled that I’m over it.  Like people genuinely think they’ll never talk to me again. 
I’m not too concerned that I’m losing something substantial.  The people that want to find me will find me…and we’ll have a grand time!  The people that don’t, won’t even notice I’m gone. 

For what it’s worth…


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Tomorrow marks 4 years of blogging…

4 years of putting my shit out there.

I’ve learned not to babble and to not write annoyingly long ass posts.  I’ve learned to keep it simple.  I’ve learned that people enjoy pictures.  People enjoy simple wit and irony and dogs. 

Good Lord, you people love dogs!  That’s ok, I do too. 

Take a gander through the archives if you desire…sometimes I still giggle at the things I’ve admitted in writing.  I still get little pretzel knots in my stomach thinking about how much of my brain I actually share. 

Also…I should totally have front row seats to Pearl Jam and a six figure book deal by now.  Where are the connections that I’ve dreamed up in my head??

Where, oh, all knowing internet, where????

Sour Patch


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This is just what we need in our break room at work…1.9 pounds of sour patch kids.  1.9 pounds!?!?!  I wonder why not fill up that last .1? Just make it an even 2 pounds of soury sugary goodness!

I can’t help but eat them…

First they’re sour, then they’re sweet…then they’re laughing maniacally at all the cavities they just mined inside your precious teeth…and then they’re calling their conspirator dentist friends with code words like ‘operation root canal’ and ‘ insurance dream come true,’ reporting they expect their payment in small bills at the drop point at midnight.

Hidey Ho, Neighbor


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Does she remind you of Tim the Toolman Taylor’s annoying neighbor, Wilson?? 

Remember how popular that stupid show was?  And how everyone did that ridiculous grunting-howling-barking noise??  (I apologize if you are a fan of Tool Time) Do you also remember how all the young girls thought the middle son on the show was oh-so cute and they had posters of him from Teen Beat?  What’s his face?? Jonathan Taylor Thomas?

I didn’t like him.  I liked Eddie Vedder.  Also, no one ever liked the young, whiny, buck-toothed brother in the show…even the older brothers.  What an outcast…I wonder where that kid’s career took off to…

My dog is nothing like Wilson.  She’s more like Mrs. Doubtfire. 

Give peas a chance


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People!  Peas slathered in butter and salt are friggin amazing.  I’m not sure I can think of any vegetable that isn’t delicious blanketed in sweet, creamy, salty, melty butter. 

I hope I don’t sound like that Paula Dean and all her butter loving…no-one likes her anymore now that they think she’s racist.  Sorry, Paula, you gotta lay in that bed you made.  I don’t like that kind of controversy on this blog…

Back to the butter.  I’m not about to carve sculptures out of butter or anything but I do love butter.  It should just be called Better. The name of the paint on the walls of my living room is called Melted Butter.  That’s kind of why I picked it…

Here’s the crazy part…I actually love vegetables more than butter.

Immortality


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You may not know the importance of the outfit I am wearing today…I didn’t connect the dots until moments after I heard the news. 

Turns out…my ultimate band, Pearl Jam, announced additional dates to their fall tour.  Um, guess who’s city is on the list???

Um, yeah, obviously…this girl’s. 

Ecstatic!! 

My town, my backyard, my turf, my people…my favorite songs played in my favorite city…for me (and only me)!

Surely I know someone who knows someone who can get me backstage?? Surely I can bribe someone’s brother’s cousin to let me into the sanctuary that is the backstage?? Or sound check?? I would be ok sitting on the sidelines for sound check. 

Or….secretly cheersing some bottles of beer together at one of the city’s best dive bars.  With the whole band and crew and even all the wives and shit too.  Yeah, I would be ok with that. 

The outfit.  Strangely enough, I am wearing the same outfit that I wore to my very first Pearl Jam show in Chicago at Wrigley last summer.  And there I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed…which I mostly despise…and there it was.  Music for me!!

When you choose clothes, the universe knows…and it makes things happen that mean something…and if you pay attention, you find these strange connections all over the place.

I am hoping there is some connection that leads my hand to shake Eddie’s….eh, who am I kidding, I need a hug. I deserve a hug!!!!