Dirt and Sparkles

It’s hard to be married for ten years without some dirt, but the sparkles make it all worthwhile. 

Happy anniversary, sweet pie, I love you!


The Wisdom in Spam

Job Application.jpgI didn’t know what I was going to write about today; it’s been a shit day, and I pretty much decided that I’m not going back to work because fuck that place and those people. Pretty much because I haven’t quit or found a job in years, and the prospect of having to hardcore get down to it freaks me out quite a bit. I’ve just been dilly-dallying for the past month, putting in applications here and there.

Full disclosure: I got and quit my job at Domino’s in 2013, but I’m an old hand at getting and quitting jobs at Domino’s. That’s no big deal. Anyway. 

Then I think about when I got this job, and how badly I panicked when it was time to go to my interview, and even worse when it was my first day. I’m scared a lot, and when I say a lot, I mean a freaking lot, and it isn’t safe to try new things and new experiences, especially all by myself. It isn’t safe at all. It’s big and scary and I would rather be four years old and facing monsters under my bed in the dark. Without a blanket to hide under. Dangling my feet over the edge of the bed.

But it’s not fair to myself to keep going to work at a place that makes me so miserable I ugly cry in public. And in private. Really, whenever the urge strikes. I’ve ugly cried more this year already than I did last year, and I had such a bad time with side effects from Topamax last year I ended up skipping my 20th reunion Homecoming game.

So today I posted a status on Facebook: so this is probably gonna be my last day here. Who’s hiring? Within minutes, a friend of mine posted that his part-time job was hiring. At my old mall! At my happy place! I told him I’d apply when I got home tonight, and he said he’d told his boss. Super important bonus: they sell body jewelry, so I won’t have to hide my piercings. So wish me luck on this one, y’all. Thanks fam.

When I got home tonight I changed my clothes and applied for that job. And it’s funny: I wouldn’t give my youngest brother my email a few weeks ago when he called our mom and said he needed it for a job application, because who ever heard of an employer needing a reference’s email address? Well, now I have. Whatever, I still don’t believe my brother. He also said he needed our parents’ birthdates for his application. And really, come on. Know your own parents’ birthdays, jeez.

So I texted my old assistant manager for his email, and I texted another friend to make sure I could use him as a reference. I’m reasonably certain that I’ve asked him that before, and I knew he’d agree, but it’s just good manners to ask, right? Plus I was simply hoping to hear back from him because he’s had a pretty shit time of it lately.

I did hear back, and he did agree, and when he asked what was going on, I told him I want to cry every time I even think about work and I can’t do this shit anymore. Like I don’t plan on going back and I’m crying now because fuck them so much. That sounds like TMI now, but if you’re not going to be honest with your friends, what’s the point of having them, right?

So of course he confirmed that the shit is fucked and gave me some directions for job hunting. And his wife just got a new job herself, and she said she’ll keep an eye out for me, too. Sometimes I think maybe I have better friends than I deserve. But  then I remember that I’m not my job, and I’m a decent person, so there’s that.

And then I went to my dashboard to read my spam comments. Yes, it was all spam, but one of them struck a nerve.

It is the best time to make a few plans for the long run and it’s time to be happy.
I have read this publish and if I may I wish to counsel you few fascinating things
or advice. Perhaps you can write subsequent articles referring to this article.
I wish to read even more issues about it!

Okay, maybe not that last bit, but the first sentence, for real though. Thanks, spam.

And then my husband texted me that he’s bringing me home a weird chair, and all’s right with the world. I’ll show you pics tomorrow. I hope it’s weird af.

Happy New Year!


May the coming year be filled with wishes, hopes and dreams for each and every one of us, whether fulfilled or unfulfilled. Let them make our lives richer and brighter and happier.

The Writer’s Block

This is my new writing space, in my new office. It’s been a spare bedroom without a bed since my brother moved out, but my darling husband decided that he was tired of me writing at my little old school desk in our bathroom. It’s a big bathroom. The only real problem was the lack of electrical outlets.

But it’s done now.

We went to three Goodwills before finding this desk. I love it. It probably has a coat of lead paint, but I’m old enough to know better than to lick it.

The trio of blue-framed photos are ones that I took on my fifth grade class trip to Washington, D.C., two of the Capitol and one of the Washington Monument. My stepdad blew them up and framed them, and they’ve been in my room since I was eleven. I think they’ll go on the wall facing the door, stacked vertically.

I’ve had the rainbow Snoopy bank for as long as I can remember.

I got the name bar super cheap from work when that style was discontinued.

Then a pencil sharpener and the weird little dice roller on two feet.

We picked up the cardinal light the same day as the desk, at the second Goodwill. The top bird was missing his eye, so I suggested blinding the other poor bird so they’d match. It worked.

I can’t guess what else I’m going to put on it. Maybe that’s all.

I’ve been filling up the drawers tonight, though. I already have a craft drawer half full with glitter and glue sticks and protractors and tiny wooden clothespins that I found tucked away earlier.

The bottom right drawer contains only a shiny pink Birthday Girl sash. Don’t be fooled by the V on the name bar; eclectic is my middle name.

What do you think?

Cop Out


30 Day Writing Challenge

Like I need more on my plate, right? But I can’t help myself.

So there’s this blogger. Stephanie. She does some pretty dang awesome nails. And I just found out the other day she has a book blog too. How cool is that, right?

Oh! She’s the gal who told me about The Night Circus. Great book; you should check it out. I should probably reread it.

Anywho, let’s do this.

Day 1: List ten things that make you really happy.

  1. My husband
  2. Coming up with that perfect word/phrase/storyline/idea that’s just, well, perfect
  3. Gel eyeliner that’s not too thick and not too thin and stays put all day but comes off just fine with makeup remover–I’m looking at you, NYX Gel Eyeliner and Smudger
  4. Hiking
  5. Jabberwocky, my hiking stick
  6. Reading a really-good-to-tolerably-well-written book
  7. Body piercing
  8. Cold sheets when I go to bed
  9. Freshly shaved legs when I slide onto cold sheets in my bed
  10. Our kitty cats enjoying a good petting, with a little bit of kneading but not too much, and minimal drool because we have two serious spit factories