July Search Terms

I know I am a few days late with this one. And my last post was a bit of a cop out too. I promise I am writing wondrous things and working on my weird crafty little projects. But here it is. This months search terms:

 

You fucking my sister: I am imagining this as being said by a young Robert De Niro. YOU fucking MY sister?!

 

The shit roach killer: Well, I don’t know if I am the shit, but let me tell you guys a quick and terrible story. It was 1am on my birthday morning. I had stayed up till midnight to be the first person to wish myself happy birthday. I woke up and felt something tickling my neck. I brushed it away, thinking it was a stray hair. I shed like a golden retriever. But it was still tickling. Moving even. I jumped up and brushed it away even harder. In the dim light I could make out a black shape crawling across my sheet. Now I was wide the fuck awake! I jumped to my lamp and grabbed my glasses. I knew it had been a giant roach on me. And I would not rest until it was found. I go looking for it and the fucker ran right at me. I freak out and grab a shoe to kill it and it magically disappears. So then, I am looking around, trying to find this thing. And I cant. So I am hunting around, frantically, when I notice something out of the corner of my eye. The roach is on the ceiling now. I try to smack it down with the shoe and it flies right at my face. I try to smack it away and knock my glasses off my face. Then I hastily put them back on and it is gone again. So I am losing it now, thinking it is on me. I start mussing up my hair and it isn’t there. So I grab the front of my shirt and shake it. The roach was on my shirt! ON my shirt! Ugh. It was like a horror movie. So I crush it with the shoe (grinding it’s guts into my quilt). And all the while I am whispering “Fuck you. You fucking roach fucker.” And then I couldn’t sleep because I was so full of adrenaline and fear. And I had to take a shower and wash my sheets and my glasses. I stayed up till 6am. It wasn’t the best beginning to my birthday.

 

Cockblock perish, Venice FL: There’s a Cockblock Parish in Venice FL? Between that and the giant rats, I think I need to visit this place.

Hollow tooth from under: From under what? The stairs? The ground? It’s like the title of a Goosebumps novel.

 

Animal Zoo Vegina (sic) xray: Okay, I have to admit, this made me curious too. It is a thing.

Is it just me or does this look a lot like the ghost trap in Ghostbusters?

 

A sugar mummy fucked by his real brother: This is just, intriguing. Is it like a sugar mummy like a sugar skull from the Day of the Dead celebration? Or are you looking for porn about rich mummies?

 

I had sex with him, in an orange grove: Internet high five!

 

Apartment maggots Maine: Can you please email me this story, search term searcher? I love maggot stories!

 

Ken doll genitalia: I think Ken’s genital bump really confused a lot of little girls. And probably some boys too. What the hell Mattel?

 

An xray skeletons that spells happy birthday: You know me all too well.

 

I feel like I’m in a Twilight Zone blackside trash song: You know what, I don’t even know exactly what this mean, but me too. Me too.

 

Why men mastermate (sic) with Barbie dolls: Men; #1 Do you guys ‘mastermate’ with Barbie dolls? #2 Why?

 

“search my vagina”: I don’t know why this is in quotes, but I feel so tempted to use this at some point in the very near future.

Example:

Co-worker: Why would anyone put mustard on spaghetti? (A Co-worker did this recently and I was baffled.)

Me: Search my vagina.

 

In which I take you on a tour of my apartment

So I have alluded to my apartment and decorations many times. I have been told it looks like a combination yoga retreat, gypsy caravan, mad scientist lab, and healing shaman hut. I am very pleased by that comparison. I hear, despite my freaky shit, my apartment is very calming to be in.

 

I thought since I just had my apartment re-done and am feeling particularly pleased with it, I would share some of my favorite things with you. It is obviously a work in progress. I still have X-Ray shadowbox nightlights to build. And I didn’t take pictures of the necklaces on every doorknob or the pictures of my sister. Or my craft tables (yes there are two, one just for jewelry making and one for everything else) as they are a bit of a mess. But I think I will be able to still paint an accurate picture of it.

180My transistor collection. I intend to get more and do some kind of art project.

 

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Glass head, shell collection, and wooden clogs.

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I bought this when I got my first place alone. It is driftwood, sea glass, crystals, all kinds of cool weird beach-y things.

 

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I call this my seance table. It is a soy candle, crystal, salt lamp, singing bowl, Buddha head, incense.  It just happens to look unintentionally creepy but then I liked it so I kept it that way. (No seances were done at this table. At least, not by me).

 

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I won this beauty at a gem show last year. It was the grand prize drawing. It is huge. Two feet long by almost a foot wide. It’s my coffee table center piece.

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Native American bone, turquoise and leather chest piece I made and shadowboxed (which is now a verb).

 

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Goat skull and poison ledger. This is on my TV stand.

 

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Antique French chemistry set. Also on my TV stand. For when I start making antique French meth.

 

210

Antler necklace holder. I made it for overflow.

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Original driftwood necklace holder. I ran out of room on it. These are both covered in necklaces I have made. making your own jewelry has a ton of perks.

 

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Earring holder I made along with a shitload of earrings I mostly made.

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Collage of random shit. Two barometers, thermometer, brass mail slot, mother of pearl drawer pulls, cast iron seahorse, and a freaky wheat and dried grass crown my sister made for me.

 

I don’t want to make this too long and boring. But that gives you an idea of my space. My bookshelf is not featured, though I love it and it is overflowing with books and comics.  I didn’t include any of my actual artwork (or the crystals that are lying pretty much everywhere) as that would take another blog post. Though, I will make one with those if anyone is really interested.

What do you think? What freaky things do you keep in your apartment? Anyone want to see more of my shit?

 

 

Guest Post!

I had wanted to tell this story about something that happened when I was very young. I have a poor memory of it as I was very young. So I sent my mother an email asking her to help me out. What she wrote was so funny I decided to just post her email (with her permission).

 

So, here it is; in my mother’s words:

 

I want to set this up for you: your sister, M,  had just returned from spending a few days with Uncle J and his family.  They had purchased a necklace of “Pop Beads” for her.

Unlike the “pop beads” I was familiar with, the new strand had spacers (they looked like very small “life savers” candies) between every bead.  When she came home wearing the necklace you wanted them (it is unknown if you wanted them to keep or simply wanted to get a better look at and touch them).

 

Lastly, I am 91/2 months pregnant with J, huge and due at any moment (which means you are 2 years and 5 months of age).

 

M was fairly agreeable to you having some of the beads. Upon inspection I decided that the spacers were too dangerous for you to have (because they were so small they presented a choking danger) and told M that she could let you have some of the beads, if she wanted but to remove the spacers.  She agreed to do that and gave you some of the beads from her necklace.

 

A little earlier in the day your father had found a house close to where we were living (for sale) and one of us called the realtor, who arranged to meet us at the house.  We gave the telephone number of the realtor to your other sister,W, and M and left to meet with him.

 

I honestly do not remember anything about the house…we were gone about 20-25 minutes when the realtor received a call from his office informing him that our children were trying to get in touch with us, as there was some sort of emergency at the house.  We barely said good bye and drove straight home.

 

Arriving home, W told us that you had gone into M and W’s room and taken all of the “pop beads” and spacers and were stuffing the spacers into your nose.  I attempted to find out if they knew if you had any spacers currently in your nose, but they didn’t know because they didn’t know how many there were to begin with.

 

I drove us (your father stayed home with everyone else) to the hospital ER, which was pretty weird because they thought I was in labor and had to bring you with me.  I informed the treating physicians of everything I knew about the beads and spacers and the approximate time frame.

 

Several of the doctors made attempts to look into your nasal passages for the spacers but you were VERY uncooperative and they gave you a nosebleed digging around for the phantom spacers.  You screamed bloody murder and upset everyone else in the ER, as they were sure you were being needlessly tortured.

The physicians then decided they needed to X-ray your nasal passages, throat and lungs to see if any of the spacers had made their way to your lungs. There is a device X-ray techs use to X-ray small uncooperative children and I have forgotten the name given to it, but it is cylindrical shaped. The techs raise the child’s arms and slide the cylinder down and then secure the device with the child held in place with arms over their head.

They then take the X-ray photos.  Of course, I was not permitted in the room as I was 9 1/2 months pregnant, so you were FREAKING OUT and only hearing my voice but not seeing me made it worse.

 

You were a pretty small, thinnish child and it was agreed that you had a mighty powerful set of lungs as your screaming could be heard on every floor of the hospital.  The physicians could not find anything and decided to send you (and me) home (more I think to regain some order in the hospital than anything else).

 

I sensed a collective sigh of relief when we walked out the door.  Since you had been sedated, and didn’t talk yet during the X-ray incident, you fell asleep and didn’t wake up again until morning.

 

That is all I can remember…

Thank you, to my mother.

 

Back Pain

It was a warm and rainy Sunday night. My brother and I had made an innocent plan to have dinner together at one of our favorite restaurants. This restaurant is above another restaurant, up a flight of stairs.

We went up the outdoor staircase and saw that this restaurant was closed on Sundays. Disappointed, we turned and headed back down. About halfway down the stairs I slipped on the wet stone and fell down about half a flight.

falling down stairs

Me, only less breakdance-y.

I landed on my left wrist and tailbone. Hard. My right wrist was caught in the railing as I actually had been holding on to the bannister when somehow I fell.

When I landed, I was in so much pain that I couldn’t think or even breathe. My necklace broke and I watched as a piece of turquoise tumbled down the steps to the landing below.

My brother put his arms around me and I (like a total ass) yelled at him, “Don’t touch me!”

I sat there for a minute trying to decide if I was ready to just give up on life and just die right there. A car turning out of the lot pulled over and the people asked if I was alright. Turns out they had seen me fall. Excruciating pain with a side of humiliation, thank you.

When I decided to continue living I got up and figured I could walk it off. I was tough. And I had muscle relaxers. I figured the pain would be bearable by the time I went back to work on Tuesday. It wasn’t.

I tried to get some sympathy from my co-workers. But they are all men. My boss gave me his classic response to “rub some dirt on it.”

So I went to my doctor and he sent me to get an X-Ray and then an MRI. Turns out I had herniated a disc on my lower back and had a second one that was bulging.  He prescribed some drugs for the pain and a steroid pack.

herniated-disc-mri

Totally what my back looks like.

Take that, co-workers! I was in real pain over here. I had an official diagnosis and everything.

I had taken several steroid packs in the past for strep throat so I didn’t think anything of it. I started taking the drugs my doctor prescribed.

After two days of steroids I came home from work and took my shirt off to take a shower. My entire chest was a bright and angry red. I walked out of the bathroom and flashed my roommate.

She asked if I had gotten a sunburn. I told her I didn’t see how I could have through my shirt and bra. I decided I was having an allergic reaction to the steroids and stopped taking them.

The next day I began to feel sharp shooting pains in my chest. This is a particular cause of concern to me as I have had five heart surgeries. That’s when I decided it was time to go to the hospital.

I made the drive to what I consider to be “my” hospital. And sat in the ER waiting area for several hours. Despite my history of heart problems, they didn’t seem particularly concerned about my chest pains. They never even did an EKG while I was actually feeling the pains.

While I was waiting I noticed a nurse working the ER waiting area. I couldn’t tell if the nurse was male or female. He/she was cute either way. I sat watching him/her for a long time trying to figure it out. Then I realized it didn’t really matter as I was attracted to him/her.

The floor doctor decided to admit me over night. But I threw a major fit and demanded to have another EKG. The cute nurse came over and told me she (yes, she) would be administering it but that I needed to be patient.

Instead I yelled at her and made her stop what she was doing and give me an EKG right then as I was currently feeling the sharp shooting pains. She was very sweet and took me to a private room. Everything turned out to be fine. I asked to be released, which the floor doctor was all too happy to allow after my irrational explosion.

At this point I idiotically decided I had nothing left to lose and found the cute nurse and gave her my number. I figured she’d already seen me naked from the waist up and knew what she’d be getting into. She very graciously accepted my number, which I definitely would not have in her position. But she never called, not surprisingly.

And that’s how I managed to be complete dick to the first girl I ever decided to hit on. And then  somehow still think I had a chance with her.