Monday, January 19, 2015

I Made a Thing! (UPDATED)

So this isn't really a post.  
It's just me saying, "Hey guys, I made a thing!  You should go watch it and give me constructive criticism."  
Kthnxbai!






After Boyfriend watched my video, I flopped down on the couch and released a massive sigh of relief because I accomplished something.  Then this happened:

Me: I did it!  I made a thing.  I posted a video.

Boyfriend:  You did!  And it's good!

Me: Thanks.

Boyfriend: I'm proud of you.  And you didn't record it vertically so I don't have to be embarrassed.

Me: You suck.

Monday, December 29, 2014

Memory Lane Monday: (What I hope will be) The Final Installment of My Shit Hole Apartment

I haven't posted one of these stories in a while, even though many of you (all 3 of you) have told me how much you like them. The reason for this is mostly because I haven't had any really blog-worthy apartment stories lately. On one hand I'm thankful, but on the other hand it means I actually have to come up with my own topics and that's just exhausting after spending most of the day looking for actual paying work, while trying to keep my inner demons at bay. But I digress...

 So far I don't have any crazy apartment stories from our new digs here in Cali mostly because even though we're certainly not living in a giant Hollywood McMansion or anything, our current residence is such a vast improvement over almost anywhere I ever lived in NYC, that I just don't have the capacity to complain about it yet. Other than our extremely pot-enthusiastic neighbors downstairs who like to hold band practice everyday all day (and boy oh boy they turn it up to 11) our place isn't awful. So without further ado, I give you the absolute last story possible from our Queens Shit-Hole Apartment:

The Final (NYC) Installment of My Shit-Hole Apartment:
Fucking Seriously?!

It was no secret that Boyfriend and I were moving out of our shitty Queens apartment, and out of NYC. All of our neighbors who bothered to peek their heads out of their windows knew it. Neighbors we'd never even spoke to in the 2.5 years we lived there knew we were moving and asked us about it. Even Crazy Mary across the hall wished us luck a couple of days before we left. Crazy. This same woman who a month prior had gotten really high/drunk and fallen asleep while she had something on the stove which made the smoke alarm go off, which made the fire department and the building super have to clamber through our apartment to get to the fire escape to break into her apartment and take care of the situation.  Given Crazy Mary's history, what happened the night before Boyfriend, Leeloo and I were to hit the road for the west coast should not have come as such a shock, but it came as the final boot in the ass from NYC.

The day before moving day, we were set to load up the car, and it was hectic to say the least. I don't remember much except that it was just one long anxiety attack for me, and poor Leeloo wasn't doing much better. It was a flurry of activity and troubled breathing and crying fits as Boyfriend and I tried to get rid of the last of our furniture and pack the last of our belongings hoping against all hope that everything would fit in our car. 

This is not far from the truth
Our dear friends, Krista, and Jen even came over late that night to help us pack, clean, shove the last of our things into the van, and say our final farewells.  Around midnight, Boyfriend, Leeloo and I tried to settle on to our air mattress in the middle of our living room for one last short night's sleep.  Little did we know how short it would be...

At around 3am, there came a banging on our door, followed by the unmistakeable shrill skull-splitting sound of our neighbor, Crazy Mary yelling, "Neighbor?!  Neighbor?!?!  Is your cable out?"  Boyfriend and I both groggily said, "What the fuck?!" as Leeloo sprinted around the living room barking furiously.  Boyfriend and I tried to ignore the banging on our door for a moment, yet it continued.  It continued for an unnecessarily long time especially since it was 3am and no one was dying.  All the while Crazy Mary kept yelling "Neighbor?! Neighbor?!"

Finally, Boyfriend climbed off the mattress and opened the door violently.  Again, Crazy Mary asked if our cable was out.  Boyfriend growled, "I. Don't. Know.  It's 3 o'clock in the morning.  We are moving across the country in 3 hours.  We have no cable, we don't even have a TV anymore."

And in classic Crazy Mary fashion, she replied, "Oh. Sorry,"  nonplussed as ever.

Fucking Crazy Mary.

Of all the nights that we needed some sleep, this was the one.  Did we get it?  Of course not.  Not on our last night as New Yorkers.  It was like the bow on the gift that is living in NYC.

I'm sure I will have some more shit-hole apartment stories in the future at least until Boyfriend and I can be real-live adults and buy a house, but until then, life is not horrible, and our current place is not so bad...yet.

Sunday, November 2, 2014

Post Halloween Post

So magically, last year on Halloween (our first day in California) it was cloudy and overcast and rained a little.  This year it was cloudy and overcast and rained A LOT.  I don't know what that means, but I'm too tired from the 3 parties we graced with our presence (presences?) and also I think I've come down with death virus.  Not as bad as that one time, but I feel a nasty cold has fallen upon mine house. Yay.

Anywho,  I hope everyone had a fun and safe Halloween.  I went as a creepy doll on Friday and a mysterious doctor (wink wink) on Saturday.  Boyfriend went as...well see if you can guess:

Me, and my friend Ryan as Classic Lego Spaceman

Creepy Doll

Creepy Doll & Boyfriend (photo courtesy of Joey Nicole Thomas)

Get it? GET IT?!?!

Doctor Who and the Digiorno Pizza Delivery kid
You know, this kid (who is actually our friend Stephen)

This year beat last year when we were so exhausted from being on the road that we barely got to enjoy anything, or the year a hurricane kind of spoiled our fun.  So thanks to my friends old and new who made this last year what it was.  And boy was it something...

Monday, October 27, 2014

Memory Lane Monday: Scarred For Life Edition or What Were Our Parents Thinking?

Do you remember?  You do, don't you?  You remember that random scene in that one movie that had little consequence to the rest of the film, but it scared you.  Terrified you to your very core.  It gave you nightmares and scarred your wee child soul.  For life.
Or maybe it was a TV show.  Or a commercial.  Or a picture in a book.  Never intended to ruin your mind, but just create drama within the medium.  Oh but it did.  It created drama and fear in your brain.  It ruined you didn't it?

OK, I'm being overly dramatic, but you know what I'm talking about: we all had images we were exposed to in our childhood that were upsetting or terrified us.  And most of these came from children's books/movies/TV!  What were the grown-ups thinking?

So here are some things from children's movies/TV/books that scarred me for life:

-The Rite of Spring sequence in Disney's Fantasia 


 OK, I don't know how much Disney actually intended this movie for children per se, but this entire sequence of the movie crushed my soul and haunted my dreams. We start off with an awesome scene of dinosaurs. Hell yes.  Then a storm rolls in and holy shit it's a T-Rex and all the other dinos and critters are scared shitless, but the bad ass stego decided to take him on.  And then dies a horrible and dramatic death. Now I'm sad and scared.  But it doersn't stop there.  Then we get to watch as every dinosaur on the planet suffers a slow and agonizing death as we see the great extinction.  Yay.  I'm serious when I say this gave me bad dreams for a week.
 

-The "Giant Mouse of Minsk" scene from An American Tail



If I have one person in all of entertainment to thank for single-handedly scarring me for life more than anyone else, it would be one Mr. Don Bluth.  Most of the "kids" movies that ruined me, Don Bluth had a hand in (I'm looking at you Land Before Time and All Dogs Go to Heaven!) Really anything directed by Don Bluth belongs on this list, but I chose this scene from An American Tail because look at it!
 


Thanks for the nightmares, Don Bluth.

 
-In a Dark Dark Room and Other Scary Stories


 Yup, that's the same Alvin Schwartz who penned the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark series which was just a treasure trove of haunting imagery.  Seriously, pick up any Scary Stories book and flip to a random page. Boom. Nightmare fuel. 

You didn't need to sleep tonight, right?
But In a Dark Dark Room was intended for very young readers and it haunted six-year-old me with images like this:

That cat could not give less of a shit.
 Yup.  Nothing like reading a small child a story that ends with an old lady's head falling off. (Spoilers)

 -Pretty much any episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark?


90's kids, this show was our jam, amiright?!  Every Saturday night, my butt was firmly planted in my favorite arm chair and I was glued to this show.  But let's be real, this show was scary as shit. The opening credits alone were pulled directly from your nightmares.  They were like the creepy VHS tape in The Ring but less...horse-murdery.  Pick any AYAotD? episode and there was probably a terrifying image that made hundreds of kids pee themselves.

Exhibit A


Fear of children? Check.

Exhibit B


Nosferatu haunted my dreams for literally weeks. 

Exhibit C

Thanks for that fear of indoor swimming pools, Nickelodeon.

Also, this:

This.  This was a goddamn kids show!!!


Beh.  I need to go back to therapy now.  
Sweet dreams, kids!

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Insert Heavy Sigh Here

Source
I've done my best to make my blog a positive funny place for people to come read my ridiculous thoughts and ramblings, and then go about their lives.  The only time I get really serious is talking about mental illness because it's something we need to keep having conversations about.  The more we talk about it, hopefully the less stigma will surround it.  

Normally, I don't weigh in on big news here simply because I don't want to add to the noise that's already out there.  But there is something troubling me that I want to discuss.  

What in the ever-loving fuck is up with Gamer Gate?!  It's become a wildfire with a life of it's own and I've tried to just sort of keep it in my peripheral just in case things got ugly, but mostly just tried to stay away.  Well you know what?!  Things just got ugly.  Doxxing Felicia Day simply because she wrote that the threats on women in the name of Gamer Gate gave her cause for concern for her own privacy/safety is some low-class horseshit.

I've stayed quiet until now simply because I didn't want any part of the ever-growing shit-storm that seems to be hitting women in this industry.  That's right, I'm afraid.  I'm not a public figure.  I'm not a developer.  I'm not even really a journalist.  I just write a blog and make some videos in my own little corner of the internet.  It's not a perfect internet existence, but it's mine. It's mine and I will defend it tooth and nail.  If I curl up and hide and go away, they win.  They. The collective (or who knows, maybe it's just one person) threatening harm to women in the industry, posting their personal details online so that someone more unhinged than they may decide to actually do harm.  All in the name of stopping corruption in gaming journalism?!?

I know I'm not the only one who sees how fundamentally fucked up this is right?

I'm going to be completely honest, this is what those ass-hats threatening women in the name of Gamer Gate at the core looks like to me:

"I'm a male gamer. Video games have always been made for and marketed to me.  Hey, look over there, it's a vagina.  That vagina says it likes games too.  Whatever. It just says that for attention.  Wait, it's a (developer/journalist/nerd) and has an opinion I don't like?!  Kill  it.  It's evil and it's ruining gaming and corrupting gaming journalism. It gives real gamers like me a bad name."

(Obviously I'm being hyperbolic...a little. But every time a woman is threatened or doxxed in the name of Gamer Gate simply because she expressed an opinion, my discontent with the movement grows.)  

I understand that these few assholes don't speak for the movement at large, but the root of the problem appears to be straight up sexism and misogyny.  No matter what it really is all about at its core, Gamer Gate has certainly shed a light on how deep sexism still runs in the gaming industry. So, yay?   

Half of me wants to lash out in defense of my fellow female gamers. You know, dish out some good old fashioned vigilante justice and shit.  Haunt some dreams or cut on some people who threaten my ladies (you know, stoop to that level.)  But the other half of me wants to curl up and hide in my bed and hope it all goes away soon.  But, we have to face the notion that it's not going away.  But then neither am I.  Felicia reminded us to keep gaming because it's beautiful.  So that's what I'm gonna do.

Source

 They fucked with Felicia Day, you guys.  Someone hand me my hat.

Monday, October 6, 2014

Memory Lane Monday: This is Halloween, This is Halloween (Halloween, Halloween, Halloween...)

October has always been one of my favorite months of the year.  It's the time when the leaves start to turn a lovely orange or red, the morning air has a delightful crispness to it that reminds me of biting into an apple.  It's not too cold but not too hot....no wait that's how it used to be before we moved to Southern California.  It was 106 degrees on October 2nd.  OCTOBER.  W. T. F?   I was really looking forward to getting to wear jeans and t-shirts, and switching to SPF 45 (instead of 75), and maybe actually getting to wear a sweater at some point.  

On the bright side, I can pretty much wear whatever I want for Halloween (my 2nd favorite holiday) without being concerned that I'll get rained on or frozen to death.  Unfortunately, I haven't yet decided on a costume this year.  So, I've been perusing my old Halloween photos to see if something sparks my interest.  I don't have a ton of time to make something from scratch, nor do I have a lot of money to buy supplies or an entire costume.  Plus most of my costumes/supplies for costumes got donated or thrown away when we moved last year.  Well, let's see if anything sparks my imagination...


Internal screaming
  Hmmmm...am I a bear?  A mouse?  No one seems to know. Also, what is up with that haircut?  Mom?

Happy witch. Sad clown.

Why am I smiling like I just farted on my sister?  
I probably did.



Kneel before me!!! Mwahaha!
Ok, clearly I wanted to be Batman this year but settled for belly dancer.

Hollywood starlet, yo.

Based on the awesome side ponytail I'm rocking and my too-cool-for-school smirk, I'm guessing this picture was taken around 1994. Also, my sister's costume looks oddly familiar....

Alright neither this stroll down the street of ghosts of Halloween past, nor wasting 4 hours studying Pinterest has helped me narrow down my Halloween costume decision.  If anything, I'm even more indecisive now...

I'm open to suggestions in the comments. 

Monday, August 18, 2014

Memory Lane Monday: A Mixed Bag or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tumor (UPDATED)

This month has been a mixed bag of emotions. So much of a mixed bag, I might need to divide this post up into 2 parts.  First off, if you read my tweets at all, you may have seen a few describing my feelings for the manager at my job.  If not, here's a taste:



 Or this gem:



Or what might have been my absolute favorite day at work thus far...


 So in dealing with an honest-to-Freud Sociopath for 40 hours a week for the past 3 months why the hell wasn't I having just the best time ever?  Well, up until recently, I'd gotten pretty good at just tuning her out and rolling my eyes at her behind her back, determined not to let her drag me down to her level or to make me feel bad about myself.  But then something changed.

The first weekend in August I developed an ingrown thumb nail.  Sounds very uneventful right?  That's what I thought too.  If you've ever have an ingrown nail, you know that the pain that comes with it can be excruciating, especially if it becomes infected.  Lucky me, that's what happened.  Not only did the ingrown nail become infected, but it grew into something...else.

I noticed the ingrown nail on a Saturday.  By the following Friday, it had exploded into a bleedy disgusting mound of pain and terrible.  I dare not describe it further because it's gross.  Just know that it was awful.  And hurty.  You guys, this thing is so painful, if spinal surgery is the worst pain I've ever experienced in my life (and it is), this thumb shit is a very near second.  It got to the point where I was so freaked out and fed up, I needed to seek medical attention.  

After hours of trying to locate an urgent care facility within 50 miles of me that was covered by my HMO, I said "fuck it" and decided to go to the community clinic where we went when we thought Boyfreind's jaw was falling off. After the usual joy that comes with waiting for a doc at the clinic, I finally got to go into an exam room.  I had Boyfriend come in with me because I assumed that the entire nail was just going to need to be cut out to relieve the swelling and pain and I wanted someone to hold my hand. (My good hand.)

While we waited for an eternity in the freezing room for the doctor, I tried to decide on what would be the worse scenario: the doc looks at my thumb and tells me I'm over-reacting and to go home, meaning we wasted time and money going to the clinic OR the doctor looks at my thumb and freaks out because I'm dying of some horrific rare disease and my thumb is about to fall off. Boyfriend snorted at me in bemusement, and told me I was being silly.  I will say this: I hate being right.

Someone buy me this shirt

The doctor finally came in and I told her about the ingrown nail.  She asked me to remove my bandages.  After I did, she gasped and stared at my thumb in stunned silence.  Great.  Eventually she was able to mutter a couple of "Oh My"s while she poked at the horrible-awful that was my thumb. I glanced terrified at Boyfriend who just stared back at me wide-eyed.

So, short-story-long, the doctor put in an urgent referral to a hand surgeon who might need to drain it or cut it off or whatever it is that hand surgeons do in this case.  I don't know what that thing is because even the clinic doctor didn't have any clue what the fuck was wrong with my thumb.  She said she'd never seen anything like it.  Awesome.

It's never good when your doctor makes this face...
She left the room to submit the referral, but I'm pretty sure she just when to her office and Googled my thumb symptoms because when she came back, she had written what she thought it was on a post-it and told me to go home and clean it with iodine every day.  Then she gave me a band-aid and sent me on my way.  Thanks HMO.  Best $15 band-aid and used post-it note combo ever.

According to the doctor's post-it, I have a Pyogenic Granuloma (for the love of all that is good and holy, do not Google images of this, save your eyes.)

So what is it exactly?  Well, the clinic doctor couldn't tell me, so I turned to my old frenemy: WebMD.  According to the internet, I basically have a benign lesion or tumor growing out of my thumb.  Supposedly, it's not uncommon in teen and young-adult women.  It's caused by injury, trauma, or hormone fluctuation, like during pregnancy.  Well, I'm most definitely not preggo, but I figure the combination of all the stress hormones from me suppressing my rage for 8 hours a day at work and my ingrown nail manifested into this terrible awful.  

You know, like this:

 

So, I as sit here at home, still waiting for my "urgent referral" to come in the mail (our healthcare system at work, ladies and gentlemen,) I'm actually starting to wonder: if I concentrate hard enough, maybe the damn thing will fall off on it's own. 

So, here is what I need from you, dear reader(s) if you're still with me:
What should I name my tumor?  I figure if we all hate it by name together, maybe it'll just up and leave.  
Hey, it can't be dumber than waiting for an "urgent" referral for surgery to arrive via the United States Postal Service, right?  What is this, 1850?  

UPDATE:

Ok here we are 2.5 weeks later, and good news: Seymour the Tumor is shrinking! (I decided on Seymour because I thought it was funny.)  It looks like a tiny wrinkled skin prune rather than the swollen red death of pain and suffering that it once was. Also, this is all with absolutely NO thanks to the clinic I went to.  That magical "urgent surgeon request" never showed up. I'm glad it wasn't something that was actually going to kill me.

More good-ish news: I found a better job and when I put in my 3 week notice at my office job with Lucifer, she basically said, "Fine. Don't come back then." And so my 3 week notice turned into a 3 week vacation. Yay?  On the one hand, I was counting on at least 2 more paychecks after giving notice, so the money situation has been unpleasant, (but what else is new?)  On the other hand, I've had time to record Voice Overs for my new demo and I even started working out again. So far, no complaints from the drug-dealer crazy chick downstairs.

Fingers crossed.