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October 15, 2014

Mash Mask

A Russian once told me that if I use mashed potatoes as a facial mask, then it will make my skin flawless.  I asked her if she was just trying to get me to rub mashed potatoes all over my face.  Nope, it's an old folk remedy for treating acne.

My skin has been acting up lately, and I remembered that, like most women, there's an old bag of instant mashed potatoes in the back of the cupboard.  

This is what I've been doing for the past few hours:
"Well here's another nice bucket of spuds you've gotten me into!"


 I photoshopped out some of the blobs that landed on my neck, and I thought it was best to go with black and white.  This transformed me from repulsive, to looking like I'm on the set of a Laurel and Hardy film.

When I was finished, I splashed apple cider vinegar on my face, then took a sip from the bottle.  Because I did, that's why.

The end result is that my face looks exactly the same, but the skin feels all baby-like.  The End.  

September 2, 2014

Seriously, Thank You Robin Williams!

Robin Williams' death felt different to hear about than other celebrities', and I thought it was just me who felt that way, but no, it was a lot of us.  There was something familiar about him, like we knew him personally.

 I have recognized this quality in many people with bipolar disorder, and I think it comes from the vulnerability they offer the world.  The disorder refuses to let them hide it, no matter how hard they try.  In order to live among society, they have to expose themselves, that they are both fire and the charred remains.

Drug addiction is rampant among them.  Uppers get them out of bed when they cannot, downers erase the dark thoughts, alcohol helps them forget what they said, opiates help them forget what they did.  

When friendships are lost, dates are canceled, and spouses leave, they assume it is because of something they themselves did, and often it is.  Their mania scares people; their depression annoys them.  Sometimes it motivates them to get the help they need, and sometimes it just crushes them.  

Mr. Williams made a living out of exposing his madness, which ironically took the courage only a madman could muster.  The world only cares about what we give, and what he had won him awards and laughter.  However, unlike a musician or painter, a depressed comedian has nothing to offer. 

Even as a less extreme "nobody", I experience this.  I get complaints when my posts are serious because it's assumed that my name is misleading.  What I am actually offering is my perception of life as a farce.  It is not much, so I give as much as I can, and risk potential rejection on a minor scale.

 Robin Williams sacrificed his entire self on a scale as massive as his talent.  The risk was being devoured, but that is what a hero does.  A hero is simply a person who makes decisions out of love instead of fear, and Mr. Williams loved making us laugh. 

May we honor his memory, and never forget to laugh.

Memory eternal Robin Williams.  And I always thought you looked kinda hot in "Hook".  




August 31, 2014

I Am Not Taking You Out to Play Ball

Girls who are sweet and not hideous get the burden in life of having creepy men make passes at them.  I'm guessing they assume that by not screaming and running away, these women must either want bone jumping or are easily manipulated into it. 

On behalf of the non-ugly girls who say "hi" back in the hallway:  No!  NO!  Bad greasy man, BAD!  (hits on nose with rolled up newspaper).  I'm not interested in your guitar playing.  I don't want to wake up next to a lava lamp.  SHOO!

August 30, 2014

Frame of Shame

            I woke up in the middle of the night, picked up my laptop which was next to my head, and began writing.  Not just editing my old work, which is what I have been doing lately, but writing!  I had to put it on my Facebook timeline because I thought I would never be able to write again.
            What is there to write about?  Well...I recently bought a memory foam mattress and they're so expensive that I bought a twin size one.  I figure that since I still sleep on the right side edge of the bed ever Andy and I shared one twelve years ago, the extra mattress is just wasted on me.  What do I do when a guest comes over for dinner and subsequent sexual intercourse?  Yeah, that really isn't an issue- I don't like sharing my Fruity Pebbles.  (That isn't a euphemism.)  Also, I'm pretty sure Nissan products cause impotency.  
            Because I'm more into frugality than sanity, I made a bed frame out of two broken bookshelves.  It worked just fine until I rolled over one night and it collapsed.  Now my mattress is on the floor while I figure out if the bed frame can be fixed with Gorilla Glue (spoiler alert- it can't.)
          


August 28, 2014

My Bloggy Love

The Breakfast Slurpee

Oh wow, I miss this blog!  I miss it so much- mwah!  mwah!  mwah!  I'm so sorry that I abandoned you little bloggy.

Ah.  It feels good to be home.  None of the other blogs I started feel right.  I'm sorry, I need to continue making out with my blog.  Mwah!  Mwah!  MWAH!  

                    So.  It looks like I'm not a nun.  (awkward silence)  

Remember when I said that it just felt right?  I may have been wrong.  OR, it just isn't the right time yet.  One of the spiritual counsels I received during the journey was that I can always become a nun later.  Lots of monastics marry and have children first, then take up the ascetic life as a retirement plan. (That isn't a direct quote.)

Anyway, let's pick up where we left off.  I don't know what that means in this context.  

What's zany today...ah!  You know those TV show where the girl says things, then the guy hears "I want to get married and have your babies right now!" so he freaks out, then the girl finds him and convinces him that it's a misunderstanding and she's not crazy, which calms him down, and then everything seems okay until he sees her trying on a wedding dress because her friend is getting married and they're having fun, then he freaks out and runs away so she chases him down the street in the wedding dress to explain but he runs even faster because he's terrified?

So, I've got that going for me...  

(Oh, how I've missed you scripted, awkward silence!  Mwah!  Mwah!  MWAH!)