Category Archives: Zombie Apocalypse

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Is It Supposed to Do That?

I am officially the most disgusting human being on earth, and it is because of horny plants.

I never really understood the big deal about allergies when I was younger until about three or four years ago. Now I get it.

Allergies are big, flaming, bag of douche. Just like horny teenagers punish the world with their stupid antics, horny plants are driving my head bat shit crazy.

I’m constantly oozing from either my nose or my eyes. The eye ooze is not just tears, like I foolishly used to think, but it is some sort of gross mix of tears and quick dry cement. It builds up on my lashes in the night that some morning I have to put a wet cloth on my eyes for a few minutes to un-rubber cement them.  I also didn’t know the human body could create this much snot. I feel like I should just tie a towel under my nose to save effort and trees. “Oh, this? This is my snot towel. I’m reducing my carbon foot-print because I love polar bears… served with barbecue sauce.” hahahahaha Okay, in my defense, I am trying to find that line between enough anti-histamines and altered consciousness or overdose.

I had to go to Sam’s Club in Norman today. (My dad decided it had to be done today, so, yeah.) I kept pulling out napkins from my pocket and trying to stem the faucets. Old people kept giving me dirty looks. I wanted to yell “HAVEN’T YOU SEEN THE PLAGUE BEFORE?” even though I think some of them were around for the crusades. I can’t breathe through my nose long enough to take my temperature. I also think I broke my left ear. Last night I was waiting for my eardrum to pop while fighting the urge just to stab the motherfucker with a pen. It is better today.

Ugh.

 
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uuuuh

Okay, here’s the deal. I had a lady date with Tina last night. Turns out sangria is my arch nemesis. Everything I have to do today aside from blogging can and should be done after 10pm.

I’m hung over as balls. It was totally worth it.

I’m taking a nap. I might talk to you cats on Tuesday, I might not.

Have a Merry Christmas full of joy, safety, and wildly inappropriate Christmas carols.

OHHHH Happy Day After the End of the World!!!

 
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A Blog in which a Recluse Makes a Friend

Think this comes in my size?

Today, I made a friend. No shit, the hermit made another friend.

Okay, technically, I knew her already but not really. We went to high school together and that shit really doesn’t count as knowing each other. I didn’t know me in high school, much less anyone else. We saw each other at my friend Lynsie’s wedding, and there was that weird moment it when unrepentant weirdos meet and recognize each other. It’s a lot like when two immortals come in contact in Highlander, but without the swords and beheading.

It was so weird because I can’t remember having a single conversation with her in high school. I’ve honestly forgotten a lot of high school. I’m not saying I have repressed memories; it’s more like I’m aware I only have so much room on my brain hard drive, and I chose to dump high school social memories as useless files. Let’s be even more honest, they mostly were.

Anyway, Jennifer fell into the clump of girls I thought of as ‘the normal white girls.’ They were socially adept and did their own thing and weren’t weird like me. Seriously, I looked at her today and said, “You used to be a normal white girl.” She laughed.

We’ve somehow became very similar. I don’t know how that shit happened.

She calls her braces her grill.

She sat on her couch, drinking earl grey tea, crocheting in a gramma shawl while listening to Dr. Dre.

Fucking awesome.

I mean, I’m about as not ghetto as one can get, and the only rap I listen to is Steam Punk Victorian rap, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate anyone who does handicrafts, prepares for the zombie apocalypse, reads, and listens to 90s gangsta rap.  Oh, yeah, she might actually swear more than I do. I didn’t think that was possible.

Life is so much better when your give a shit breaks, and you allow you to be you. There are other lessons in there, but I haven’t had my nap today.

 
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One of Those Days

Mustache me

I feel this awkward inside right now

I think because I’m sick with whatever bug is going around (seriously, I’m beginning to think I WILL be patient zero for the plague that wipes out the world), and it is that time of year where I get depressed, I’m having one of those days. I feel ugly, useless, whiny, and like a waste of people. I start to doubt my dreams and believe maybe I should give up and be more realistic. I feel like anyone who cares about me or thinks I’m special is going to peek in and see that I’m a fraud.

Honestly, I feel kind of worthless. Its hard to admit, but it is exactly how I feel right now. And I know it is just a short term thing. I will start to get over it very soon. In the words of the venerable Bloggess: depression lies. It just sucks right now. I’ve went through it much worse than right now. I think most people around me wouldn’t even guess I was having these emotions. I could continue to fake it, and no one would be the wiser. In fact, that would probably be the smart thing to do. We all know my relationship with the smart thing.

It’s all silly. I know I’m smart, friendly, kind, loving, funny, and, yes, beautiful in my own goofy way. I know it is chemicals in my brain flipping out. I know I will cry a little bit after I finish writing this, and then I will refocus on one of the things I’ve got going on and continue to claw out of this crap.

I have a wonderful life filled with love and happiness. I’m lucky to have so many people who take me as is. Loving is easy; learning to be loved is the hard part. Feeling worthy of the praise and affection of those who care about you is difficult. Like I said, I always feel like a fraud. I can’t be that person people tell me I am: you guys can’t possibly be seeing the real me. Most of my friends have stuck with me for years now, through many incarnations of Selina, which is plenty of time to see the real me. You’ve stuck around, so it must mean I’m not a fraud.

I don’t know. I need a nap and a night of writing. Things will be better. They always are after I start writing about them.

Thank you guys for being here with me.

Pretty

When you feel ugly, it helps to see yourself through the eyes of someone who loves you and thinks you are gorgeous. Tina does this for me.

 
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I Made A Circus Freak

fancy corgi

Required Monthly Corgi

I used to work at the public library here in my hometown. I worked with this adorable high school girl who I think is turning into an incredible young woman. Anyway, she moved to East Moose Screw, Canada. She was at the library visiting yesterday.

Okay that is a strange place to start the story, but this is a strange story so stick with me.

Many many years ago I babysat a little girl. She was blonde with these huge blue eyes, and we spent a lot of time doing things like making fun of Nelly Furtado videos, having adventures at the park, playing Neopets, and being creative weirdos. She was the sweetest, weirdest little girl. Her parents were also the kindest people I have ever met in my life. They showed me a generosity that I hope to be able to share one day. I’m also going to dedicate a book to them. I know which one, I just have to finish writing it.

Okay, back to yesterday, the Canadian Moose Screw girl had made a quick trip to the states and was in our library, and I went there talk to her a bit. They were there waiting on the girl I used to babysit. I told Autumn (Canadian Moose Screw Girl) a story about babysitting Courtney. She told me Courtney had to get it from somewhere. I had to ask a few questions about what she meant by it. She clarified by saying, “You know, her weirdness.”I was pleased to have spread the weird.

Later, Courtney arrived, still blonde with huge blue eyes. We got to talking. She does pole dancing (acrobatic not stripping), aerial silks, stilt walking, and performs at drag shows. I got about ten different kinds of excited because she had turned into a circus freak, but in the best possible way. She also told me I helped shape her weird.

I realized I helped make a circus freak.

It was one of my proudest moments in my life. I mean, who aside from circus professors (there is such a thing) and the parents of circus performers can say they made a circus freak? Not many, that’s who. My influence helped make the world a little more weird and beautiful and that is all I want from my life, to make things more weird and beautiful. I think I can count this as a win.

In truth, I’m proud of her because she turned out strong, brave, smart, and a total firecracker. I had nothing to do with that, like I said, she had exceptional parents, and she was all ready incredible when I met her. I am going to claim the circus freak part though. I will steal my wins if I have to.

 

 
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Juice Bags

Again, I begin by bowing to my duties as the crazy corgi blogger:

OMG BABY CORGIS

They are cute enough to make the mess okay

Life continues to be crazy, but I am back to being a happy goofball. Writing on Tuesday helped me.

My father is having eye surgery today. It is one of those ‘pfft no biggy’ things, but even those can be a big deal in the chaos of my life. I made sure to nap this morning so I can be well rested to handle anything that comes my way.

I think that is one of my accidental life philosophies: if something big is happening, and there is nothing you can do to prepare or help, then nap because you never know when you will get another chance. I prefer to think of it as being prepared and zen-tastic, not lazy. Screw you guys, when the zombie apocalypse happens, I will be well rested.

So, this morning I was having a quick talk with the Tina person on the Facebook. We were talking about her daughter’s dance recital program picture. Apparently, three year-olds need dance recital ads talking about how awesome they are in their dance recital programs.

This is one of the many things I love about the Tina person: she does all this crap, but she does it with flair. I have been to her daughter’s dance classes with her a few times, and there is this bizarre clique of dance moms, which is just crazy.

Let’s list the reasons this is insane:

  1. This is Oklahoma
  2. They dance for a small dance studio that is fantastic for kids, but it focuses on teaching dance and love of dance, not star making.
  3. Being that snotty is always ridiculous
  4. Oh, yeah, THEY ARE THREE GORRAMN YEARS OLD. Your kid is three. Ballet is not a career. It is barely ballet. It is mostly a reason to dress your daughter up all cute and watch her bump around with a bunch of other three year-old dressed up cute girls while attempting to do some semblance of dance moves to music. This isn’t Julliard, bitch, get over yourself.

Tina understands these things. Her daughter loves ballet, and Tina does everything in her power to encourage it, but she knows. She has a secret war against the dance moms, and I love her for it. Fight the establishment, Tina, fight it.

She also told me another awesome story.

We all know douchebag is one of the best words ever invented. It just is. No one can explain why, but most of us inherently know it is true.  Tina called her husband a douchebag, in the most loving way possible I assure you, in front of her three year old.

Her daughter’s response: Mommy, why did you call Daddy a juice bag?

I am still having trouble putting into words how amazing that is. Here lemme demonstrate:

He is a big bag of douche./ He is a big bag of juice.

Douchetard/ Juicetard

Douche Noodle/ Juice Noodle

Douche Canoe/ Juice Canoe

I might be the only one who finds it that awesome. I don’t care. FIGHT THE ESTABLISHMENT.

 
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Books, Boobs, and Brains

One of the fantastic things about the internet is, even though it is jam packed with douche noodles, it has a really cool community of internet creatures to balance out some of the doucheyness. Artists, writers, humorist, oddball celebrities all hang out on the internet trying to do our thing. And the surprising thing is, a lot of us believe in helping each other out. I am not as connected as I should be, mostly because of my complete lack of social and networking skills, but I am slowly building up a circle of people I follow and I hope some of them follow me.

I made two decisions early on after I made this site. The first is that I would thank Sara and Paul O’Flaherty    every chance I got for helping me start to see behind the curtain and teaching me so much about how to do this crazy interwebz thing. The second decision was to never write about a product I didn’t like for money. I understand why some people do it, and I don’t judge them for wanting to eat, but I didn’t have to do that.

Well, one of my fellow internet creatures approached me a few weeks ago about reviewing his comic book Zombie Outlaw. @Capn_Midnight (the writer of Zombie Outlaw) offered to send me free comic books in exchange for writing about them if I liked them. He got free publicity and I got free shit. I fail to see a downside. I’ve had time to read the two issues he sent me, and I actually really liked them.

First of all, these aren’t the type of comic books that take themselves too seriously. It is a funny, goofball premise that never pretends to be anything buy a funny story about a magical zombie at college. The art is cartoony but great. (I will say that the screaming feminist got annoyed that every single female had a tiny waist, huge heart shaped ass, an giganormous tits with permanently hard nipples, but then I realized it was a fucking comic book.) The female lead character is a) a red head, which I love, and b) tougher and smarter than the males.  One panel has a guy leaping through the air attacking with pencils tucked between his fingers like Wolverine’s claws.  It’s pretty fracking epic. I know some of you guys would like it, or at least want to stare at the ridiculously large bazongas. Yay, huge bazongas for everyone!

It is actually Friday night and my sleep patterns are off, so I am a sleep drunk, and I need to wake up in a few hours. Forgive the strange quality of the review. Its me, not you.

 

 

 
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Oh, Shit, I Didn’t Mean to Rant

I now run my glorious writer’s hours. I wake at 1:30pm and go to sleep at 5:30am, ish. It is great for me, because I am more awake with more energy and a better mood. I am more productive and happier. It blows because so few of my hours intersect with normal people hours. I try to crunch more stuff in the few normal people hours I have. Most days it works out. Today, on the other hand, I am rushing to get a blog in before midnight. OH FRACK 45 MINUTES. I know it doesn’t actually matter, but it matters to me. It is the principle of the thing.

So, I have a slight issue. The idea I wrote about in my last blog still hasn’t formed yet. I still have the thought bits bouncing around but I can’t quite get them stuck together in an effective way. It is like having a box of puzzles pieces, and every time you pick one piece up the connector shapes all change. I know these pieces go together, but every time I think about one aspect the path to connecting it to the other pieces blur. To make things worse, I am pretty sure I shake the damn box every time I pick it up. I am going to be super pissed if when everything clicks, it is something dumb.

The point is I have things whirling. I always have things whirling in my head, but generally I only have one thing eating up most of my brain RAM so the rest of my brain can spin on other things. Right now, I have my book I am writing, the book I want to write next, this blasted puzzle, and my lifestyle food exercise crap all spinning around using up my RAM. My focus is worse than normal. When it comes to blogging all I can think of is the things the free part of my brain rants about.

Normally I would fight it, but not tonight. I have 30 minutes to get this bitch posted so you cats are taking what you can get.

Guinea Pig awesome

A cute picture

OMG WOMEN THE STATE GOVERNMENTS WANT TO RULE YOUR REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS. My tootie is none of the state of Oklahoma’s gawddamn business. There is a personhood bill trying to go through our state congress. This would give the State of Oklahoma unprecedented rights to control what you do with your reproductive organs. I respect being pro-life (unless you are pro-death penalty then you are not really pro-life, you are anti-choice and believe that after a baby is born it is on its own, fuckers.)   This isn’t an issue of pro-life/pro-choice. This willfully giving the government the right to regulate your body parts. Things like birth control can become illegal. Some states have went as far as to introduce bills that criminalize miscarriages. We are staring down the face of allowing ourselves to be oppressed again. I am not down with my only value being my reproductive organs and turning over legal rights if I decide to use them. It is all feeling far too close to The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.  Educate yourself.

Okay odd clarification. People are getting their panties in a wad because of Obama’s birth control stuff. The way things were originally written every employer would be required to provide birth control to their employees, even if employer is a church that is against birth control. This upset religious groups, so they are trying to fix it where the religious groups don’t have to provide the birth control but the employees can get it from the government.

I am all about birth control and women’s freedom to chose what happens with her body. I think the easier and more abundant birth control is, the better, but I am a staunch defender of separation of church and state. I have a hard time with the government asking a church to go against  a basic tenement on something like this. The women will have access to birth control still, but the lines of separation of church and state still stays clear. (I wish someone explain to some of these more rabid fundies that the separation protects religion as much as it protects the state.)

In that same vein, when gay marriage becomes universal in our country (except probably backward ass Oklahoma), I don’t believe that churches should be pressured to perform gay marriages if it is against their beliefs. I firmly believe every consenting adult should have the right to be legally married to any consenting adult that will have them. I believe that every state in our union should legally allow it. I think it is an intrusion on separation of church and state to move it any further than that. I also don’t think anyone will ever try. I am just trying to show that I can be sensible. It is a game I play.

Okay, it is 11:52pm and I have ranted enough.

 
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Intangible

Before I get started on my Thursday blog, I have a story.

I have very clear and definable moments in my life were I feel both gratitude and sympathy for the people in my life. Two moments come two mind. A few weeks ago I walked into my living room and announced, “It vexes me that my ass is lopsided.” The other happened earlier today. I was washing my hands and playing out some random scenario in my head and started making sound effects to go along with what was going on in my head.  It wasn’t until later that I realized that it might be strange to hear someone make dinosaur sounds while they washed their hands in the bathroom sink.

To all my friends and loved ones: thank you and I am sorry.

So, I read an article yesterday about Samoa skipping Friday. The government got together and decided that December 30, 2011 just won’t happen and they are skipping straight from today to Saturday.  Screw Friday, it is Saturday.

They had really sound, logical reasons for this alteration to the agreed upon calendar, but that doesn’t make it any less awesome.

It inspired me. So much of our lives are lives are ruled by realities that are things we simply agreed are true. Some things are truths no matter what you believe; you won’t suddenly float off if you stop believing in gravity, and the passage of time does exist. You can refuse to accept that you will die all you want but eventually you will cease to be. Other things, though, are just some shit we got together and decided to accept as the way of things.

Fuck you reality!

There is a cycle of light and dark and a progression of seasons but the ideas of months and weeks are a man made concepts. We place value in strange stuff. Gold? Really? It is kind of a useless metal. I think it conduct electricity well but mostly, it has value because it is rare and some people think it is pretty. People will kill other people over pieces of paper but consider other pieces of paper valueless.

A lot of these agreed upon things are pretty ridiculous, and we have completely stopped questioning them. Really, stock markets? That is about as tangible as phasers from Star Trek.

I typed “I am inspired to stop accepting reality.”

Let’s be honest here. I have been at odds with reality for a long time. I think it is pretty obvious that I live in my own little Selina universe that happens to coincide with the normal reality in certain spots. (Do I need to remind you guys that I made dinosaur sounds while washing my hands?)

Now, though, Samoa has given me a fantastic excuse for my weirdness. I am just questioning the validity of your agreed upon values. No, really I do on purpose, with intent. I am trying to show the world what it means to really live a life well examined. I am empowering you to make your own realities and grasp firm on to your own destinies. Seriously.  No, really, it’s not just that I am weird and incapable of fathoming normalcy.

Also…

Liberal Arts people, never let physicists make you feel bad about the relevancy of your work. I have learned a little about quantum physics and that is just as crazy as anything we study. Schrodinger’s cat is some crazy ass science fiction shit right there.

 
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Holy Crap Christmas

I love Christmas. This really shouldn’t surprise anyone, because, in spite of my misanthropic candy coating, we all know I am a big goofy soft soul inside that loves any chance to celebrate the people I love and remember what is good about the world. Pictures of puppies make me go all googly eyed for the love. Anyway, yesterday we had a mini Christmas miracle. I was at the super Wal-mart before 8:30am with no coffee and I was so inspired by the Christmas spirit, I managed not to swear at anyone or throw any fits of any kind.

Growing up we always had big beautiful fake trees. Yes, trees plural, because my mom had one she helped my sister and I decorate and one of she decorated for herself with our important family ornaments. I remember laying under the tree and watching the lights. My paternal grandmother would come down with my brother for Christmas, and it was the only time of year I ever got to spend time with him. He would take my sister and I out into the back yard and push us in our tire swing that hung from a gigantic tree and point at satellites and tell us that it was Santa. Christmas was magical.

We got older and things lost their shine. My grandmother passed, my brother joined the military and then disappeared from my life, I learned that those really were just satellites, and slowly being a grown up crept in and the magic seeped out.

There hasn’t been a Christmas tree in my house since the mid-1990′s and my sister and I were teenagers. I think we put one up once for my sister when she got home from boot camp. After Ellana left, though, we really never put one up. At first we would decorate a chair, as a joke, and string it with lights and call it our Christmas chair. Even that stopped and we would just pile the presents somewhere.

Saturday, I went Christmas shopping for my mom with my dad. He said, “I guess we aren’t putting up a tree this year again, huh?” I was struck by how sad his voice was. I told him that I didn’t know and asked him if he wanted one.  He thought for a second and responded that he would like a small one. I talked with my mom about the conversation and we made a few decisions. Yesterday morning, we decided to bring back our Christmas, but in our own way. I want to share it with you guys.

 

 
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