After the decades of abuse from my mother, whom I only learned to start breaking away from at 30, and still, just yesterday had a pacing conversation to myself! with her haunting voice, of what I might have to do if faced with ever speaking with her again…

This example is the only kind of response. Even if just to myself.

I didn’t know I needed to see something so simple as a comic to help when she dominates my head, and I think I’m gonna cry a bit now. Fuck you, mom. I’m finally learning to enjoy being alive, without you in my life.

Oh, no, that’s too much. Being from the Chicago suburbs, between Menards and Empire Carpet (before their growth to add the -Today- addendum), there’s a deep groove upon my brain made by those jingles. That, and John Madden’s congested cadence for various advertisements. Simply John Maddening.

^…588-2300 --damn, it!

Save big money at Menards, but not on Menards…

^…save ^big ^money– Gaa! That jingle will never leave me. Damn you, midwest!

Hooray! I think! Cause that is correct.

When my focal seizures weren’t as well managed, one of the closest descriptions I could give is it often feels like experiencing various Windows error noises. Like, all varieties of them, from '93-XP, fit the bill. Occasionally, it’s dragging the multiplying, cascading window that won’t respond, across a teeny screen of barely available conciousness. Meds make me feel pretty dumb, and some errors still get through, but I don’t dunk, donk, dink, or bonk so much!

Super cute and fuzzy wuzzy until it’s jumping spider season, and they’re in the house, and jesus goddammit jumping spiders, I just cleaned up this shit, can you not web up the entire kitchen every fucking morning? Tiny ass Cirque du Soleil across the light fixtures, every damned day! Cute little shits.

Whoa! I don’t actually know what I expected, but this is so much more awesome information than I thought I’d see!

Thanks, everyone – I think I’m leaning towards a Baratza model, as that should fit a lot of categories that weren’t absolutely necessary, but preferred (electric, mid-range price, upgradeable).

Eventually, I may go for something fancier, some of those recommended are very slick, or gift myself a hand-grind; I do enjoy the ritual for certain things, but I’m not there yet, for coffee – props to those who put so much care into your brew!

Illness wrecked my enjoyment of many things until recently, coffee included, so it’s exciting–if not a little daunting–seeing numerous home options available. It seemed like pour-over was just getting going in the US last time I had the will and energy to look into a better brew, so I’ll be thrilled to have something nicer than my little Y2K era Krupps grinder (though the tiny beast is still kickin’, haha), and slowly move into a variety of quality home brewing options, especially as winter approaches.

Shit. Does that goes for ladies, too? Cause I might need to have a long talk with myself. Can it work that way? Can I instantly give myself another level of beautiful existential pain, like my bi friends?

Mannnnnn, every time I see one of these, I feel like I’m really missing out by not being bisexual. Damn. Guess I’ll buy more books! Anyone want some tea or an iced coffee? You doing okay? Need anything? I’ll totally run out in the rain, to get whatever you could possibly need to make your life better, if only for a moment. Really, I’m offering.

Please, I can only get so turned on…

Shit, dude. My iron was at 2 after my last blood test. They keep pumping me full of star stuff–pow, straight in the veins–and I just keep burning through it. Why, stars, why! Why does thou forsake me! I am very tired, stars.

I don’t know what’d be a hidden gem, but I adore Moonstruck. It’s a masterpiece of entertainment, acting, and all around beautiful cinematography. The entire cast is phenomenal, and Cage is just…glorious. I’ve practically memorized the whole damned movie, I’ve seen it so many times, over the years. I have an absolute passion for it, and will talk about it for hours with anyone who’d let me.

Dammit, Peanut – Lucy Lawless is gonna murder you with words. Again.

Only Honk.

Or

“There are no genders. Only Honk.”

Make a new website, and/or make a new HonkBusters.

Alternatively: “Where we’re going, we won’t need genders to honk…”

Oh, holy hell, I just uncontrollably giggled at that for so long, my chest hurts. I sent it to my only group of friends, and it looks even better in smaller thumbnail form. Good gracious.

And the GameCube of Reanimation never would have been found without Dr. Nicholas Ballard. Thank Chac, Nick left behind extensive research notes, before he went missing, after being checked out of his mental institution, by the military…

After growing up mostly in the Colorado mountains, and even later in the more suburban areas, but still near enough to the mountains, lynx and cougar calls are strange and loud as shit. They scared the jeebs out of child-me in the dark nothing. Cool as hell, though, once you know what they are. Loud ass kitties, echoing for miles.

Holy hell, this entire interior looks like it could be hosed down, time after time, because it’s made for repeated indoctrination/orgy/murder of cults with easy cleanup. Unbelievable price, though…

Excuse me, those were just short for their full names:

Richard Warlock and Vulva Wizard

Our 2012 Subaru with a Megaman decal and a Cthulu-fish just saved my spouse from being horribly killed by a driver who blared through a red, t-boned the shit out of the driver’s side and flipped him, absolutely crushing the car, but not him. We’re 100% getting another, (an older Outback if possible) and I will wallpaper that mofo in COEXIST if it keeps either of us as…not dead.

Below: just about all we could salvage from the impound after it was decoupled from the other driver’s car, flipped upright, towed and totaled. We have their front Honda emblem, though, cause it was stuck in our car!