2019: The Year of Living Messy

If you're one of the...one persons who read this blog, you know that I have a problem with messy pages. A side effect of my perfectionism is that I tend to live by extremes. The moment I make a mistake when I handwrite, I want to tear out the page and start over. Messy pages make me neurotic. I’m forever throwing them away and this leaves me stuck in a cycle of perfection and destruction, without ever creating anything of value.

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So Close to Home

My grandma was a hoarder. She filled every corner of our tiny cottage with dusty yard sale finds, stained stuffed animals, mothball-scented clothing, and an endless sea of tchotchkes. It was musty and cramped and dark. Lots of bugs. Every window had blankets stapled over them, so no one could see inside. There was no room to breathe.

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Tales from Speedway: Line cutting and Starship

In line at the Speedway. There's only one cashier, helping someone who wants the entire Speedy rewards system explained to her. A line forms behind me, so they open another register. Cashier says, "I can help whoever is next."

The dude behind me jumps out of line and races over there, leaving me stuck behind the dummy who needs a simple points system explained in painstaking detail. When finished, the line-cutter smugly traipses outside.

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The Jai Courtney Thing

I finished watching Suicide Squad again. And by "watching," I mean I mostly just fast-forwarded to all ten minutes of the Joker's screen time because I'm one of those weirdos who didn't hate Leto's performance. But I did stop to watch that amazing battle scene where Deadshot gets up on a car and just starts blasting fools in the fucking face...

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Locker Room Talk

Trigger Warning: sexual assault;unwanted touching

A 59-year-old man with a long history of sexism gets on a bus and jokes about grabbing women without consent and then dismisses it as "locker room talk," apologizing not because he understands, but only "if you're offended."

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This Post Will Give You Cooties

Hubs and I have been a couple for going-on ten years but as of today we've been married for five of them. As a romance writer, I feel I must honor this occasion with a loving missive for the guy who puts up with just... so much bullshit and loves me anyway. Though not enough to watch Gossip Girl. Some things, not even love can do.

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