It has been a beautiful month. I need to write it down if I ever get a moment.
Grade A Pede-O-Phile
Haven't named them yet.
Mantis, also not named.
Spot the unicorn!
New bff I met at the expo. Indigo!
Holding a horseshoe crab.
On Sunday I dragged Patrick and Chuck down to the Reptile Super Show with me, which we were pleasantly surprised to find out, was part of a larger all around Pet Expo, including a cage full of weiner dogs, some llamas, rattle snakes and so many koi.
I picked up a few new friends for my home space, but I haven’t named them yet. Typically I name pets after either troubled teen celebrities, rappers or characters in Fellini films, but I’m not really sure what I’m going to do this time.
"Harry, I’m going to let you in on a little secret: every day, once a day, give yourself a present. Don’t plan it; don’t wait for it; just let it happen. It could be a new shirt in a men’s store, a catnap in your office chair, or two cups of good, hot, black, coffee."
— Agent Cooper
I almost didn’t get to do this!
But it turns out, by “valid passport” they just mean one that was valid at one time. Even if that time was over two years ago.
Boyfriend took me on a Carnival cruise down to Ensenada for my Valentines Day gift. Reason is, on Valentines Day, while I was writing him a precious love poem, he was snowboarding with his lame family. I know, right? So he took me on a cruise in July. It was amazing, beautiful, fun, etc etc. I broke my no-drinking rule for this occasion, because it was on international waters and way too expensive to get too wild.
Baja Mexico has always been more fun than any place I went to in Sweden, so all my hip friends that go on and on about how much they want to go on a hip, Scandinavian vacation, should pussokram it in their butts and go to Rosarito instead. Drug cartels, be damned. Just don’t do what they one guy on our cruise did and buy drugs from a guy with a MS13 tattoo on his forehead.
More later!
Overkiller
Today at work we were talking about life insurance, and basically, who is going to pay for our funerals. I told them probably the Cherokee Nation and this old butch bitch argued with me about it. For reals. I mean, I always expect the “but whaaaat, you are so white! and blonde! clearly, nature has dealt you platinum hair!” but this lady argued that if I were really a member of the CN, I’d be getting checks.
Where the fuck do people get that shit? Just because everyone knows a friend of a friend of a friend who gets crazy Pechanga money… if there’s one thing I appreciate about the Cherokee Nation, it’s what they invest into education, food and health, so that those who really do need help can get it. Commodities were a part of my childhood and I have yet to taste a better block of cheese or more deliciously tough to spread tub of peanutbutter. I was born in a Cherokee funded hospital, thankfully, because lord knows my parents didn’t have a lot of cake and the computers at the school I attended high school in were from the Nation as well. If I had stayed in the barren, piece of shit, red-clay land that is Oklahoma, I would have been able to attend a tech school as well.
The house I own out there, was built by the Nation for my aging grandmother who barely made a dime from social security and was previously living in a house with no running water (I have used a legit outhouse, my friends) on land supplied to her, so that a church could be built and she’d always have a place for her family to live, if that’s the way life took us.
Checks? Are you fucking kidding me? Wilma Mankiller, bitch. Look her up.
Back Then
I think the addition of early 90’s Nicktoons and Beavis and Butthead to Netflix Instant View has been a heavier blast from the past than my long lost family coming to see me.
What makes it more fun, and also sort of disappointing, is making Patrick watch them. He didn’t have cable as a child, they were primitive and poor folk. More primitive and poor than my family in the Ozarks… and he never got to watch Ren & Stimpy and Rocko’s Modern Life. I can’t even imagine what I would have turned out like if I didn’t watch gross-out cartoons pre-internet.
I’m watching Space Madness right now. It’s one of the best. That soap looks so damn delicious.
A couple weeks ago, in preparation for my mom and sisters visiting my adult life for the first time ever, I redid my apartment with new used couch and chair ($134, Salvation Army, bb) and Patrick and I built shelves. I also hired a white, Berkeley graduate to clean the apartment of two high school dropouts, so that’s pretty cool, right?
Now, don’t get all excited and start asking me to borrow money and stuff when you see the luxurious condition of my one bedroom apartment. I mean, yeah, that’s duct tape and velcro holding our trash can together, because that’s the only way to keep the beagle out. I didn’t take a picture of some stuff, because I didn’t want to blow you away with the extent of my Southern California lifestyle.
These shelves were inspired by Instructables, but were essentially designed by moi. Patrick put them together and I painted and bambooed them.
Love this ORIGINAL drawing so hard. Found it in the dumpster. The glass in the frame was broke, so I took it out and it’s basically amazing to sit and stare at.
Wonder Hangers are as awesome as the commercials say. Just sayin.
