Welcome to Hell

Welcome to hell. Please take a number. Her Evilness will be with you when she damn well feels like it.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

i'm not dead, i'm just depressed!!

i've sat down more than once to try to write a life update, and every time i don't even know where to begin.  so much has been happening within this last year.  i'll try to give you the short version...

where did i leave off?  (i was waiting for all of this to seem funny so i could write about it, but eh, let's give it a shot.)
ah yes, we were staying at a friend's place momentarily.  my opinion at the time was that she was saintly, seeing as i was not sleeping in my car in August, entirely due to her goodwill.  yeah.  about that goodwill.  not very long-lived, as it happens.

i will REALLY never understand people who try to "steal" someone else's partner, particularly when said partner is polyamorous.  and that's not just shade (not gonna lie, some of it's shade - she deserves all the shade, as you will shortly see), it's a genuine statement: i will never understand it.  as she got possessive (towards Matt) and grumpy/snappy towards me, i just left.  i was dealing with suicidal depression at the time, and i Did. Not. Have. Time. For. Her. Shit.  i went back to my friend's place, because there i didn't have to pretend to not be rolling my eyes at girl's weird - and you know, knowing i was actually welcome at my friend's, etcetera.

her weird was progressive.  Matt was not feeling good about any of her nonsense either, so he went to stay with a coworker of his for a while.  then she got even stranger, began telling her coworkers and friends he was her boyfriend... all while Matt was backing off like a roadrunner at that point, because the situation was Not Okay.

she then proceeded to stalk him all across social media, and with multiple telephone numbers, started flagging down his coworkers when she saw them out & about... just a few months ago, she showed up at Matt's place of employment and started yelling at people.  thankfully he wasn't there.  and also that she hasn't found out how close we live to his place of employment.

(brief aside - girl lives wayyyyy down in south Austin & does not own a vehicle.  how she even managed to get up here to commence stalkery is beyond me.  she must have spent 5 hours on a bus that day.)

shit was crazy for a while.  i didn't want to exacerbate the situation by confronting her, particularly if she was the "level up" type, because i didn't want to make it any worse for Matt, who was already stressed the fuck out.

but we finally found a shithole apartment for way too much fucking money at the tail end of November 2014, and were officially Not Homeless Anymore, mostly through the grace of my mother helping us to pay rent at first.  the situation was looking up, relatively speaking, though i wouldn't have said that at the time (see: depression).  at least, the living situation fuckery had been dealt with, if none of our other issues.

and then, i really fucked my back up.

i may need to include some quick backstory, here.  i was an active kid - gymnastics, ballet, marching band, etcetera.  so i was always tweaking something here or there.  i figured it was normal.  injuries do happen in competitive sports.  none of the injuries were ever that bad, except for when they were (that one time i danced EN POINTE on a foot with both a broken toe & tendon injuries, although i didn't know about the broken toe at the time.  i only found out about the toe much later, after it had healed, via x-ray).

i thought i was normal (physically speaking, anyway).  my neck & back had started hurting me when i was fifteen.  nobody ever took me seriously when i said it, because i was young and nobody expects a teenager to actually be hurting, hurting.  plus, i'd had severe whiplash as a kid from an accident, and we knew my neck was screwy.  but i was in pain every day.  

i did go see a chiropractor, which helped some.  i talked to my GP about back pain, and also the hand tremor i'd developed at 16 or 17 - but although he remarked on all of my symptoms correctly at the time, he didn't put them together (as a family GP for a small town, frankly i wouldn't have expected him to.  he still got closer than anyone else).

now back to December 2014, where i injured my back more severely than i ever had before.  this wasn't like a minor twinge issue.  this was one of those stabbing nerve pain when i sit or stand or breathe or pee or really do anything but lie perfectly still.  i was in bed for two weeks, and couch bound for probably a month after that.  and although my chronic pain was definitely daily and chronic and had been worsening throughout the fifteen-plus fucking years i've been in pain, this back injury ratcheted it up to a whole new level.  

so you get a general idea of what i'm actually talking about, here is a pain chart.  previous to this back injury, i had probably spent most of my days in the 3 - 5 range.
now i was living mostly in the 6 - 8 range.

i don't think i had talked about pain much before this last year, on social media or otherwise.  some of my joints and my neck/back really bothered me - but i had done enough physical stuff and had enough legitimate back/neck injuries that i thought there were concrete reasons for all of these old pains.  and again - i thought this was normal.  i didn't have a way to gauge my pain as compared to other people who talk about their back hurting.  it can be difficult to gauge something so subjective.  and again, i wasn't taken seriously by a lot of people - because i'm young, this sort of thing isn't normal.

but i don't think i was being honest with myself about how my functionality was degrading.  i was having worsening problems with hand pain, and function.  my tremor was just getting worse.  and i was having increasing issues with other joints which hadn't previously been an issue - my right knee, even my ankles and feet.  i found myself more and more short-tempered, which i later realized was largely due to pain.  i was also experiencing the kind of chronic fatigue that left me exhausted even after sleeping 12 hour nights all the time.

when i injured myself, i fell into a perfect storm of bullshit.  my back never did fully recuperate from the most recent injury; even now it's still not at its pre-recent-injury level of my "normal."  at the same time i was living in allergy hell (not properly medicated + allergic to shithole apartment = Not Good.), and experiencing headsplitting tension headaches or migraines on a daily basis.  i went for about a month having a horrible splitting headache of some variety ever single day.  and that was on top of the heightened overall body pain.

i basically became a rage monster.  i'll own up to it, i am not a fun person to be around when i'm in this much pain.  particularly when i was experiencing daily migraines while coughing my lungs out, with a nasty back injury.  i straight up wanted to die at that point, and i'm not being hyperbolic.  thankfully i didn't have the energy to pursue it.  (yes, i am on psych meds and doing a lot better, so don't worry on that front.)  and i felt horribly guilty about not being able to work - or contribute to much of anything, for that matter.

i started researching.  because there was no way in fucking hell this situation was normal.  i was 29, 30, and this level of debilitating pain is not fucking normal.  i'd already been researching BEFORE injuring my back - before even moving out of that rental house - but i really leapt into it then.  i didn't have anything left to lose and i needed answers.  i'd already failed to get a minimum wage job that i was both recommended for by an employee of theirs, AND hideously overqualified for, due to me being honest about my physical condition.  (a mistake i won't be making again - disclosing disability is definitely a bad idea, don't do it.)  talk about an ego blow.  i cried.

i lucked into finding a great group of people on twitter, many of whom were experiencing similar (or exactly the same) symptoms - and many of them already had diagnoses!  i researched more.  it was like looking into a mirror.  with the necessary IANAD (i am not a doctor) caveat out of the way, still, i will eat every hat i own if i'm not right.  i *like* medical science so i tend to do things like read scholarly articles about things, particularly things i think might be affecting me.  (my life's not all bad news - somewhat relatedly, i'm currently getting paid to write about medical science/research, so for the first time i have regular freelance work - woot!!)

i have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome.  and trying to figure out how to live with my changing body has eaten up my past year, for the most part.  (if you'd like more information about EDS you can get a brief overview here, or for scads of info, i recommend Oh Twist as a great one-stop resource.)

a lot of things have changed for me, in the past year.  i got tired of being the "strong silent type" about it and i started talking about my daily reality some, particularly on twitter.  i now own a cane, to help mitigate the chronic fatigue - doing routine stuff like going to the grocery store can cause a pain or fatigue spike, and the cane helps me hurt less.  but fuck, i'm 31 and i own a cane.  i've effectively become disabled by pain and fatigue.  it's the most frustrating thing i've ever had to deal with.

in fact, once we sell the house here, we're going to be moving back to Portland - i love it there, but the main reason for the move is that Oregon has a well-established medical marijuana program.  i absolutely have to get my chronic pain under control, if i want to have decent quality of life.  it's exhausting to be in pain all the time.  i'd like to avoid the opiate/opioid route if i can, because entirely separate from some of the drawbacks of the drug itself, i've personally seen my friends who are prescribed them to manage chronic pain get dicked around and treated like addicts by a shocking number of medical professionals.

i haven't really wanted to talk about this much, since i'm not technically diagnosed yet.  but since the most effective method of diagnosing EDS is usually through a geneticist, for fuck's sake, and i have no insurance...  well.  i guess it will have to wait a while.  but i wanted to put an update up, since i basically left you hanging a year ago... if anyone still reads this, anyway.  i want to be updating the blog more regularly - particularly with funny shit!  but y'all, i'm overwhelmed as hell.  and all this is why.

well, this post was depressing as hell.  but if you're looking to get your hands on some fresh humor writing, don't forget that i have a Patreon (it's so cheap to support, for real, it's a dollar a story!), and if you become a supporter you'll get material that this blog won't see...  tempt, tempt.  

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

White Trash Day! (Patreon, etc)

hello old readers, and hello new!  I'm going to be releasing some of the stories I've been working on, via my Patreon - go check it out!  I'm trying to find a way to sustainably write for a living - if you've been a fan of what I've been writing over the years, please consider helping me dig out of the poverty hole, if you can!  Plus you'll be getting access to book material well before anyone else gets their paws on it...

without further ado, a sample of what kind of stories you'll be reading if you become a supporter of my Patreon!!  I hope to see you there...

White Trash Day
Portland - 2009  

White trash day started in pajamas.  I scraped myself out of bed, went across the hall to knock on Alex’s door, and went to the kitchen.  There I grabbed the nearest thing to wine glasses, which in this kitchen’s case, was pewter goblets.  I poured two goblets of sangria, stumbled back to Alex’s room, pulled him out of his bed, and handed him the sangria.  Season 1 of Sex and the City was ceremoniously placed into the dvd player.  

Alex had bought all of the seasons of Sex and the City, and he wanted to make a marathon of it.  And I, despite all prior knowledge of both the show and good common sense, really wanted to watch all of it with him. In order.  Perhaps even in the same day.  We knew our plan was trashy.  Hell, we didn’t care.  We played it up, and made it a theme:  an entire day of drinking shitty wine in bathrobes.  We bought a large box of sangria at Target.

I think we made it through about a season, drinking steadily, before we finally looked at each other, and had a Moment of Realization:  Matt was not here, he hadn’t slept over.   In fact, no one was in the entire house.  We could do whatever the fuck we bloody well pleased, and no one would be the wiser.  

This is the part where I take pity on you and fill you in on some back story.  

Alex and I were friends and roommates.  We were in the same band, and we were also kinda-sorta trying kinda-sorta hard not to fuck each other.  It was reasonably clear by this time that Alex had a thing for me.  And, well. I’ve been known to indiscriminately fuck anything that is both human and pretty.  From time to time.

Now, as we’ve established, I’m not the monogamous sort, but I was kinda-sorta dating a guy by the name of Matt, and while I’d told him I was planning on doing whatever I damn well pleased, sexually speaking, he appended a caveat:  no fucking of the Alex.

His reasoning was sound.  All three of us were in the same band.  If word got out, it would have made all the bandmates a bit awkward and uneasy about things.  Also, he knew how much Alex liked me.  So I understood why he asked.  And I understood, too, that ego bit of it:  “No way in hell is my buddy going to get to fuck this girl, too.”  Or something like that.  I don’t know, I actually like to share my friends/lovers.  (To be fair, Matt was Very New to the non-monogamous scene.)  

Honestly, he couldn’t have made fucking Alex more appealing if he’d smeared him in caramel.  The worst way to get me to NOT do something, is to tell me you don’t want me doing it.  I will admit to being possibly THE most contrary creature on planet earth.   

I never said I was a good person.   

So, about five seconds after our mutual Moment of Realization, we were up in Alex’s lofted bed, trying and failing not to whack our heads on the ceiling (which was about a foot from the bed), having some arguably fine sex.  Naturally.  I mean, tell me not to do something…  We fucked, talked, fucked more, showered, and got back into our bathrobes – sans pajamas this time, since we were A. drunk, and B. comfortable, damp, and post-coitally glowing.  

More Sex and the City commenced, of course.  Also, more sangria.  So much fucking sangria.  It  was spilled all across the floor at one point, by one of us – I can’t even remember who to blame.  Good thing the cup was metal; it merely bounced.  I think we threw a towel down.  We didn’t bother to pause the show.   

I remember being very comfortable on Alex’s couch, almost seeing double, in nothing but a bathrobe.  My legs were slung over Alex, who was also wearing nothing but a bathrobe.  Yes, the fact that we were naked underneath these bathrobes was terribly apparent.  And if it matters, the robe I was wearing was actually Alex’s.  We’re cutting up and laughing, and all of a sudden, Matt walks through Alex’s closed door.  

More back story:  Alex’s room had a strange habit of eating cell phone signals.  Two feet outside of his door you could get a call, but in his room, it was almost impossible.  Matt had apparently been trying to call both of us for a while, but neither phone ever rang.  He had given up calling, and just came on over.  

I can only assume Matt heard us cracking up, and so headed to Alex’s room first, instead of mine.  Also, White Trash Day had been in the planning stages for a few days, so he probably figured that’s what we were up to.  But I’m also sure that did not prepare him for seeing us both mostly naked, cuddling on the couch, and shit-housed drunk.  At all of 4 pm.  

I’m sure Alex had the same moment of panic I did.  We both thought we were caught, for sure.  I mean, we both had wet hair, were wearing only bathrobes, and I was sprawled out pretty much on top of him.  I could see my fledgling little relationship circling the drain.  So I did the only thing that was logical at the time:  scream out “HEYYYYY!!!” at the top of my drunken lungs, very enthusiastically, as if he were not definitely interrupting Something, and go for the Attack Hug.  

And my gambit worked.  For YEARS, Matt had no idea that Alex and I rebelled and went against his request.  (So Matt, I’m sorry, sort of.  Kinda.)  I mean, I don’t pride myself on fooling people, but this encounter did do one Very Important Thing:  it killed the sexual tension in my household, and made Alex and I both realize that we were far better off being friends than lovers. 

Matt, who was sweating profusely from his bike ride over, looked our drunken asses over, and merely deadpanned, “You know, I’m pretty sure a normal person would be jealous right now.”

“Well,” I said, “it’s a good thing we’re not normal.  You want some sangria?”

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

a "comedy" of errors

have you ever had one of those months where you think maybe, just maybe, the universe is taking a GIANT SHIT on you?

for whatever reason, this year has been really hard on business.  not just for us, apparently, but for our entire company, despite them putting more money into advertising than usual.  who knew?  i just thought we were having a slow year, you know, since we ARE a new business and all.  and sure, that's annoying.  but it's life.

life.  i'm starting to think that the entire concept is some type of colossal joke played on the unwary.

it all STARTED when the bank, which had pre-approved us for a house renovation loan, was like LOL JUST KIDDING WE AIN'T EVEN ABOUT TO GIVE YOU ANY MONEY, SUCKERS.


so we regrouped, and applied at different banks.  for two separate types of loans.  but HA, since we're self-employed basically, all THOSE banks were like HAHA NOPE, THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL WE'RE EVEN THINKING ABOUT GIVING YOU ANY MONEY.  SUCKERS.

which led to... renting the expensive rental house for much longer than originally intended.
which led to... using money set aside for living purposes, on rent.

long story short, eventually we ran out of money.  seeing as how we don't HAVE any business.  fall is usually our crazy busy time, but we have barely anything booked.  and i think we've had 3 gigs in the last 3 months, if that tells you exactly how bad things have become.

having utterly exhausted every possible avenue for a house loan, we wound up at a dead end.  apparently the only way forward was for Matt to get a day job, and hopefully try again for a loan in 6 months, with the added attraction of a steady paycheck.  meanwhile, since we bought our house outright, every penny we have is tied up in this house... and no income.  had we KNOWN we wouldn't get a loan, we would have just done some minor repairs, and moved into the house as it was.  we wouldn't have been PLEASED, but at least we would HAVE A FUCKING PLACE TO LIVE.

but noooo, the universe HAD OTHER FUCKERY PLANNED.

about a month and a half ago, we were late on rent.  FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.  so naturally, our piece of shit fuckhat landlord's first reaction was not to talk to us, but to call a lawyer and start eviction proceedings.  BECAUSE THAT'S THE NORMAL THING TO DO, AND ALL.  we did get him to quit that shit, because seriously, the last thing we need is THAT on our credit while trying to get a fucking house loan.  but the way Matt got him to drop it... was to tell him that we'd be out of the house in 20 days.  thankfully my brother had already planned on moving... but it certainly didn't lessen the chaos involved.

the next time i get notice that i'll be moving in less than 30 days, i'm just going to burn the fucking house down, with me in it.
because that will be easier.

i'm sure all of you have moved at least once in your life, so i won't bore you with the tedious details, although i will mention that apparently getting a fridge stuck in the front door of a house is easier than you would imagine, and much harder to free than previously assumed.

the last week of moving was a complete clusterfuck.  i think we maybe got sleep on three nights out of the entire week.  my feet swelled and made every step an agony, from my toes to my neck.  this is the only time i've moved that i've had ZERO friends help, not even with the insanely heavy stuff (see fridge comments above), so it was all up to me and Matt.

also related:  side-eyeing all of Austin right now, until my feet stop hurting after about 15 minutes of standing on them. and until my muscles relax enough that i stop waking up with tension migraines.

meanwhile, while all of this was going on, we started looking for apartments.  HAHA, SAYS THE UNIVERSE.  because of all times to move, in Austin, August is THE ABSOLUTE WORST.  University of Texas starts up in August, so 20,000 students descend and make the entire city a little crazy.  we were asking for apartment for Aug 15th.  most places would then tell us they had one free... for October 1st.

turned out not to matter anyway, because HEY, moving is expensive as hell, and so are massive storage units! especially ones that must fit your entire house into it.  so by the time we finally got out of the RAT FINK BASTARD MOTHERFUCKER landlord's shitty house (3 days late i might add, because NO HELP and all), we were completely and totally piss poor and fucked.  to my absolute complete lack of surprise.  because really, once the universe starts stomping on you this hard, you just wait for the next bit of bad news.

the one saving grace of this situation was that we DO have a (fucking saintly) friend who is letting us, and the cats, stay in her ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT.  because she is a (saintly) crazy person.

related:  i don't care how much you LOVE THE FUCK out of anyone, ever.  three people in a one bedroom place will drive you INSANE and make you long for privacy like nothing you've ever experienced before.  i had more room in my college dorm.  even though i'm INSANELY GRATEFUL to not be living in my car... it's awfully nice to be able to go pee in peace without waking up one or two people on the way.

to the end of giving us ALL some space, i went to stay with another friend for a week.  while i was gone, one of the cats ran away, and we haven't seen her since.  because OF COURSE that would happen.

oh, and Matt lost his job.  BECAUSE FUCK YOU, THAT'S WHY!!


just for funzies, i'm also running out of my asthma meds which i REALLY can't afford.  i've already stretched my prescription as far as it could possibly go.  they're like $500 a month.  so in about a month, i have no idea what the fuck to do about that.

we are pretty much as fucked as anyone can be, and i'm just hoping we can scrape up enough money to pay the phone bill and the storage unit, so that they don't sell everything i own, and i can still talk to the rest of the world.

this may be a great time to mention that we need, NEEEED, new tires for the car.  and this was very obviously demonstrated by me having a huge blowout while going 80 on the highway.  the entire fucking tire exploded and shredded.  i'd normally post a pic, but since we don't have any internet where we're staying, i'm just glad to be able to camp at this coffee shop and scream like a banshee into the wilderness of the internet at all.

NORMALLY, i would say at this point, if ONE MORE fucked up thing happens, i'm giving up, throwing all my shit in a moving van, and going to live with my mom.  even if she DOES live in alabama.  but HAHAHAHA not only has my brother done exactly that already, but my mom has fucking enough to think about, since my stepdad (who was supposed to be going into remission) just learned that his cancer has metastasized to Stage 4, they don't even know WHERE yet, but HEYYYY.  and with all that going on, even THINKING about asking my mom for money is a fucking joke.


if you hear of a Mel in Austin going absolutely batshit and stabbing someone/setting things on fire/found on highway naked and raving....

well, you'll know why.

Friday, March 14, 2014


hey!  you may have noticed that i added a wee banner to the right there...

::trust me.  i'm pointing to the right.  scroll down a bit... yep!::


just imagine me either taking copious bows, or jumping and squeeing, whichever gets your rocks off more.

actually, you may also have noticed that i have been THE WORST BLOGGER for the past year or so.  and i have plans to fix that... mostly in the form of thoughts like "i should blog more, goddamnit."  i'm admittedly bad at planning.


it's official.  hell has frozen over, cuz we bought a house.  yes, an entire damn house.

it is a tiny house.  it is a house in much need of repair.  but it is a HOUSE!!

now keep in mind... these photos are BEFORE the chaos...

le living room.  do not let its fancy appearance fool you.  it liiiies.  those aren't even real beams on the ceiling.  they're just pretending.  note the lovely popcorn ceiling! /gag

this is gonna be full of musical instruments.  um... soon.  yeah.

our friendly neighborhood realtor, who is like 6'4" (also the music room)

i don't think i need to tell you why the kitchen had to be gutted.  it measured maybe 3 feet between sink and stove.  The Matt is 5'8".  it would be a head hazard just to wash the dishes.

it was THE TINIEST, and would barely fit two of us in it at all, much less if we were actually planning on cooking a thing.

HA.  because i totally cook, right?

these pictures make the house look pretty nice, actually.  what you can't see from where you sit is the terribly uneven floors, and what looks like vinyl shelf liner applied as "flooring" directly over the concrete slab... complete with bubbling and gaps.  and the uneven walls that are out of square...

i spared you pictures of the horrible tiny bathrooms.  which we have a glorious, glorious plan for.  you will see.

but... we knew we were walking into a total gut job.  we signed up for this.

and i am beginning to think we were completely batshit.

oh, it will be painted, post haste.  i would have picked green, except we have 3 neighbors with clashing shades of green on their houses.

so uh, yellow got vetoed, and purple isn't a completely ridiculous shade for a house, right?

i'm gonna need some help convincing The Matt that i don't plan on painting our house Faygo grape purple.  but i fucking hate neutral shades, i don't like red THAT much, and blue houses are all over the place.  i wouldn't mind orange... but then people might think we were UT fans.  AND WE CAN'T HAVE THAT.

this is why we can't have that.  that is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad color.  burnt orange my ass.  it's like baby shit OH GOD MY EYES brownish-vomit.

this pretty much sums up the condition of this place.  it was rough and uncared for.  it was cheap.

and that was BEFORE they let us swing a sledgehammer at the most expensive thing we've ever bought!

who knew house smashing would be SO MUCH FUCKING FUN??

The Matt, that is who.  he dug into demolition with a vengeance.  i saw it in its non-smashed condition, and then the next time i came over...

that WAS  a bedroom.

...and that WAS the living room/music room/kitchen...

not even the garage escaped.

 the entire house is literally see-through.  it's like an x-ray of a house.

i don't mind any of this.  i got to SATAN SMAAAASHHHHHHH!

i am SO GLAD that we decided to gut this place... because this is the type of nasty that we found.  evidently this was somewhat CLEANED, before i took a picture of it.


yeah.  we're crazy.

but hey...

at least we got a new mailbox.

this post's title courtesy of this earworm song and i DON'T CARE if you hate Miley Cyrus, she is actually talented, SHUT UP AND LISTEN, IT'S GOOD FOR YOU.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

vacations rarely go as planned...

while i was busy frolicking in Oregon, The Matt got laid.  **

this is SO not fair.  i mean, i was the one to go 3,000 miles away and stay with TWO former lovers...  it stands to reason that I should be the one getting laid, eh? ***
but no.  oh, no.

back it up, back it up:  i just spent about ten days in beautiful, beautiful Oregon.  i went to four different cities, spent time on a mountain, had a blast, and saw a ton of people.

i also got my hairs did.  look ma, my natural color is back!  for now, anyway...
okay, okay.  minus that bright red part.  and the bleached blonde streaks.  oh fuck it, it's kinda reddish and i won't have to dye it for a while.... that counts, right?

i am a very loyal Satan - i find one person i love (such as my Oregon stylist), and i'll never bother switching.  i don't go to Oregon to get my hair done... but guaranteed if i'm there, i'll be seeing Gina, for she is The Awesome, and i can tell her something incredibly vague like "make it look cool," and i will LOVE it when she's done.  hell, i could go in and say nothing, and my hair would still look awesome.  of the many, many things, places, and people in Oregon that i dearly miss, Gina rates very high on the list.

THIS place is about four blocks from my former Portland house... and oh, i love it so.  it is exactly what it sounds like.  it is also open past bar closing time, for all the right reasons, and thus an extremely entertaining place to be at about 2 am.

this place serves something called a Grilled Cheezus, which is a hamburger patty sandwiched between two grilled cheese sandwiches.  it might be a heart attack on a plate, but it's such a GOOD heart attack...

so when i mentioned the mountain....
my former roommate Dave has moved out to ButtFuckEgypt, and it is just GORGEOUS out there.  he lives in a wee shack, which is built onto a bus.  there is only one drawback to all of this:  the outhouse.

it is ridiculously difficult to get out of one's cozy lofted bed to run out into the chill of the night just to piss.  it was one of those few times i wish i was a guy - i would literally just open a window and piss right out of it.  fuck that whole "getting up" business.  bitches be lazy.

see those deer?  they're stupidly tame.  to the right, that's Dave.  i don't think he knew he was in this photo.

(ps, this photo is not cropped, i was just close.)

these motherfuckers aren't scared of shit.  they will walk right up to you.  i went to the outhouse one night and heard a rustle rustle rustle rustle in the bushes - and lo and behold if these little bastards weren't staring at me as i made my way to piss. 

"Shoo!" i said, "i don't want a fucking audience!"  i stamped my foot and waved my flashlight at them, and... they just stared at me like "WHAT. derp derp, i'm a deer. " 
they never did move.  they just stared at me, while i peed.  

evidently deer are into that sort of thing.


mulberry sour beer:  because fuck your lager.

i knew The Matt was gonna get fat someday.

this exists:  just one of the many reasons i love Portland so...

...right across from Mr. Paul Bunyan, of course.  like you do.

it makes sense.  i am SURE that lumberjacks are all about the titties.  i know i am, even if i'm not a lumberjack - although i certainly own enough flannel to fit right in.   (shh, don't tell.  i'm secretly still a grunge kid.)  

and of course... new ink.  
one of the aforementioned former lovers has a brother who is SO. DAMN. GOOD.  he did this tattoo.  see?  this is just one of the many reasons why it's a good idea to be friends with your exes.  i even got a friend discount.  yeahhhhh!

they're ravens.  eight damn hours i sat for these birdies...
i now have a firm rule:  i will never, ever sit for more than four hours.  ever ever ever ever ever.  jesus fuck, that was brutal.

my personal least favorite part of tattoos, and the getting thereof:  the motherfucking molt.

for those of you who have never gone through the ritual of sticking needles into yourself for no good reason, this is what happens after the tattoo.  i don't care how bad the tattoo itself hurts, this is the worst part.  it ITCHES LIKE A FIEND, and you CAN'T SCRATCH IT, lest you start peeling the scabs (ahem) and then your ink bleeds out, and if so you have to go BACK, and then you get more scabs...  it's the worst.  the tattoo only takes so many hours.  the healing takes two weeks.  

right now i'm in the supremely itchy "look ma, no more scabs!" phase, but you're still not supposed to scratch it, and GODDAMNIT I'M SO ITCHY SOMEONE PLEASE COME SCRATCH MY ARM.  

okay, okay, onto the juicy shit, cuz we all know you're reading this because there's sex involved.  aren't you?  i'm writing it because sex is involved.

i was just chilling at a Portland bar, when this text conversation happened - verbatim.
Matt: "i'm hung over."
me: "went out with the girls?"  (his two friends from his hometown that now live in austin, also.)
Matt: "yep.  ended up taking [redacted] home with me."
me:  "oh yeah?  how'd that go?"
Matt:  "she is paranoid that you will hate her."
me:  "why?  silly girl."
Matt:  "i told her that she just needs to fuck you too and it will be ok."
me:  "i think it's funny that i took the trip, and YOU ended up the one getting laid.  good one, universe."

i announced this fact on twitter at some point, and one of the tweeps was like "argh are you infuriated?"  i don't think she knew about the poly.  i find it amusing that so many people think my life is INSANE, and i think THEIR life is nuts.  (fuck only one person?  WHY?  i'll just be over here with this hot girl... erm, respecting people's monogamy.  yeah.)

the last final bit of "excitement":  my first flight got canceled, so i spent an entire goddamn day at the airport.  and there's only one thing to do when you're stuck in an airport... go find the bar, and get drunk.

which i did, with help from a random bar friend who was on my flight.  she was cool, and she snagged me a seat on the "massive amounts of leg room" aisle later.  but we had a LOT to drink all day, so imagine my consternation when we landed in dallas at 2 am, went to go to our complimentary hotel, and got into this...

this is a motherfucking strippermobile!!  if i hadn't had so much luggage, i might have had to try it out.  as it was, i was tired and drunk and barely made it to the hotel without falling over.  i did manage to text, though:  i always do.

Matt:  "i assume when i see you in the morning you will be beaming sunshine and sparkles.
glitter too, can't forget the glitter."
me:  "HAAA.  i will probably immediately drag you back to bed.
be prepared for mass amounts of cuddling."
Matt:  "i love you too damn much."
me:  "no such fucking thing."


** The Matt and i are polyamorous.  feel free to go and google that.
have i mentioned i'm shitty at being monogamous?  i am really, really shitty at it.  fun fact:  i haven't had a monogamous relationship since before i was legally able to drink.

*** damn all yeast infections, anyway.  

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

when SXSW kicks your ass...

this past week and a half was SXSW, which, for the uninitiated, is South By SouthWest.  it's a city-wide festival in Austin, which is a great deal of music absolutely everywhere (and a lot of it free or cheap), film showings, and also a conference full of tech-y stuff.

apart from all the Stuff Going On Downtown, and All the Ridiculous Traffic Nonsense And Bullshit, we had four days of photobooth gigs.  in a row.

Jesus Fuck.

three of those days were at the convention center.
a word about doing gigs at convention centers:  they are HUGE, massive places.  they have loading docks, and you must go through them.  there's no way you're going through the front door, which is the average photobooth gig's usual MO.  so, since we go to all these gigs in the previous post's pictured truck, we sometimes have a bit of difficulty getting INTO places like convention centers, since we don't have an Obvious Work Vehicle.  this requires Loading Permits, and other Assorted Annoyances that we usually don't deal with.

thankfully, dealing with the Austin convention center was surprisingly easy.  i was gratified to find out that i didn't have any Issues with loading in or out.

our first gig was a 3 day event, in the tech-y showroom.

lookee!  an actual picture of one of our photobooths.  i usually don't put them on here, so as to not jeopardize our employment, and such.  but since you can't SEE our company name...

 i had lots of fun with these guys - they were screen printing, and so i got to watch them churn out some really excellent prints.

ignore the scribbling, i'm preserving the anonymity of our customers, so as to Not Get Sued.

but seriously, how cool is this?

they were making these prints:

during this gig we were SERIOUSLY busy... i had one pee break during the first day.  ONE.
i left every day hungry enough to eat the photobooth, since i didn't have time for meal breaks.

there were a ton of fun things to see at this convention, when i did finally get a chance to step away from the booth... see if you can spot why this sign gave me a serious giggle.

hehe.  hehe.  "ass typing."  now i'm seriously imagining someone trying to type on this sucker.  WITH THEIR ASS.  and failing, obviously.  bad ass typing, indeed.

grammar.  it's important, yo.

this was an excellent backdrop for a booth.  i don't have a clue what they did there, but i had to snap a photo.  the artist's name is in the bottom lower corner, for those who are curious to check out his/her work.

this guy was roaming around.  i have no fucking clue what they did either, but... SQUAREHEAD.

the second gig we had was at a bar, where not only were our clients Truly Excellent, but they also gave me four FREE drink tickets.  FOUR.  FREE.  DRINKS.  i loved them so hard.  

traffic during SXSW is a fucking nightmare, and so is parking.  for four days of working, i spent $60 in parking alone.  and that was with one day of me not having to park, since Matt gave me a ride.  i know.  that's crazy.  when not parking, i probably spent two hours a day getting in and out of the city... and i live 15 minutes away from downtown.

for the rest of SXSW i did what any reasonable non-working person would do, and Went Out and Got Drunk.  i met lots of random people, brought a full-size hookah to my favorite bar, went to a small party that was literally in a parking space in a high rise, flirted with some hot ladies, and also Saw Amanda Fucking Palmer, for free.  she brought a lot of cool bands with her.

these girls ranged from 12 - 18, were all sisters, and were fantastic.  look them up - they're called Von Grey.  i highly recommend them.  another one of the Bands of Awesome were called Andy Suzuki and The Method.  also definitely worth a listen.  and of course, Amanda Fucking Palmer put on a great show.  if you haven't heard her, or heard of her, check her out.  she is AMAZING.

by the way?  the absolute BEST place to stop downtown for free bathroom facilities is also one of the prettiest - the Capitol building.  breeze through the metal detectors, take a few pics, and hightail it into the bathroom.

also.  did you know that you can bring pocketknives under six inches long into the Capitol building?  i asked a State Trooper to be sure, and his response was "sure, as long as you show it to the security guards, and don't go and wave it at people."

only in Texas.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Casa de Hell gets an UPGRADE

a lot of shit has happened, since last i blogged.  a lot of it was me being a lazy jackass.  like you do.  i could go on at length about that shit, but why bother?  let's get to the fun parts:

as it happens, in september The Matt came into a bit of money, shall we say...
overnight we went from BROKE AS FUCK to... well.  we're not set for life, by any means.  not even close.  but when you go from $4 in your bank account to "oh holy shit," things change a bit...

"i bought something really stupid," Matt texted me.  i was afraid - i mean, REALLY stupid? like what?  a fucking ostrich?  Really Stupid is generally Not Good.
as it turned out, the Stupid Purchase was rims. 
rims?  RIMS??
on an old beat up Chevy Suburban.  
to be fair, said rims aren't flashy chrome affairs.  they're fairly simple and tasteful, and Matt is making me say that the truck really DID need new rims anyway.  but.  RIMS.  

they see me rollin'... they hatin...

our first "frivolous" purchase was a washer and dryer, the blessedness of which can't even remotely be summed up in words.  I NEVER HAVE TO GO TO THE LAUNDROMAT AGAIN, OH JESUS FUCK YES!!! 
we thought we were Hot Shit, being all smart and buying some appliances.  but the crazy was just beginning...

it's strange, going from "can we pay the electric bill?" to "sure, let's buy a fridge!"  (which we had to do, here at our new rental house.)  

the cabinets were filthy... you're welcome for the gratuitous picture of my ass.

said rental house is more than twice the size of the closet we were previously living in.  like, we have to buy furniture for this place.  it's a weird feeling - i've always had too much shit to fit into wherever i was living.  and now we need a dining room table, and furniture for a guest room?  am i starting to act like a grownup?  SHIT!!

our neighbors have no idea what the fuck to make of us.  they're all older, with families, and they stare at us like we're cuckoo birds or something every time we go outside of the house.  i don't know if it's because we're young, or if it's because i'm wearing whatever ridiculous ratty thing i own, and climbing into the oldest car in the neighborhood.  these people are kinda snobby around here.  we live in one of those McMansion neighborhoods, which is causing no end of amusement for us, especially when the old dude across the street sits in his Porsche revving it like there's no tomorrow.

Matt decided to save his (and my) sanity by getting me a new laptop for my birthday, since my old one was on the fritz.  so here we go to the Mac store... where they wouldn't take our money.  it was the most bizarre thing i've ever seen.  

see, what had happened was...

we have been broke since forever, until now, so we both have daily limits on our debit cards.  limits that, even combined, wouldn't buy a laptop from Mac.  so we tried a check.  no go. "blah blah our third party check company blah blah go fuck yourself."  this was done a few times, despite the fact that our bank was approving it, so...

in we go to the bank for a cashier's check.  because everyone and their fucking brother takes  a cashier's check, amiright?  NO.  not Apple.  same bullshit.  "fuck your check.  your mother was a hampster, and your father smelled of ELDERBERRIES!"

in the end, it took FIVE TRIES for me to get a damn laptop.  we had to walk into the store with almost $4000 in cash like some fucking Gangsta Drug Dealing Badasses, Matt grumbling the whole time. "i feel like just throwing shit.  it's not like they could make me pay for it - they won't even take my money!"

my precioussss...

there's been a lot of amusement around here, just simple shit.  "argh, i really want to do/get this thing, but it's SO EXPENSIVE and i can't afford to.... 
i'm talking about things like doctor's visits, and going to the dentist - the things we've been putting off forever, due to, y'know, being broke.  

one side effect, which is AMAZING to my mind but CATASTROPHIC in Matt's world...
i filled up an entire bookshelf in a matter of a few months with new books - and when i mean full, i mean...

to be fair, i am buying them at thrift stores and used bookstores, but... still.
ALL THE BOOKS.  i think Matt is still holding it against me that we had to move all of them over to the new house.

Matt fulfilled his fantasy of having a tv larger than a computer monitor.  and now we are still going "WHOA!" every time we turn it on, because this thing is bloody massive.

old and new...

we also had my fucking car break down, and found ourself in need of new wheels, and thus...

vroom, motherfuckers.

texas drivers can't drive for shit, and i get sick of people cutting me off on the highway.  i want to ram the shit out of them, because they're douchebags.  and then i'd probably get arrested.  this has always stopped me before.  

but now i'm not afraid of getting arrested, it's just like... i don't want to go to jail today.  what a fucking hassle.
it used to be the money thing - oh god, i don't want to go to jail, how EXPENSIVE, i would diiie...   now? "dahling, what a bother."
(Matt informed me that if i rammed the new car into someone, he would let me sit in jail.)

 The Matt got some more insanely loud things...

and i got a motherfuckin box fort.  

best. fort. ever.

i now find myself in the rather curious position of having a Sugar Daddy.  Matt is Mr. Money all of a sudden, and i'm just... me.  not to say that i'm not reaping the benefits, certainly, but it's strange.  

"Daddyyy, will you buy me a pony?  preeettttyyyy please???"

we live in this strange in-between state - yes, we have some fancy-looking shit, and our new house is huge, and all of our friends probably think we hit the jackpot - but really, we're just us.  we still have this "we be broke as shit" mindset, and get all nervous about buying spendy stuff, even if we do need it.  

and then i have this weird guilt - like, god, are people gonna hate me and think i'm bragging & shit, just because i can buy some stuff?  fuck!  i'm just me.  um, with stuff.  a lot of stuff.

when we finally get this house set up, with all our shit unpacked and, you know, clean, i will of course shower you with some pictures.  stay tuned for more ridiculousness.  because in Casa de Hell, nothing ever goes as planned...