Lol What

I think my computer mouse is broken. I have to double click everything because it doesn't pick up the first click. It's kind of bugging me.

I lied down after I got home today, right around five. Two seconds later I had been out for three hours.

I'd also like to mention that I finally got around to watching National Lampoon's Animal House, and Bluto is an amazing creature and I think he might be my spirit animal. John Belushi has always been on my "Meet when I die" list, but he just got upgraded closer to the top.

I also stayed up until 1 last night writing an essay and watching Jimmy Fallon because Kate was on. I'm so exhausted.

My hair is officially ponytail/bun length.

I'm literally just listing things at this point why am I doing this

Ehhhh that's all I've got for today. Maybe tomorrow I'll post some sketch/stand up ideas I have.

Morton Salt and Pepper

Remember the other day, when I said Ms. Pickles might be getting a brother?

His name is Morton and he's sitting next to me.

He was super shy at first, but he seems to be warming up to everyone pretty well. Ms. Pickles and him get along royally. Klepto doesn't even hate him.

He's really pretty chill though. He's currently my movie date for the night, and he's been through 3 movies already tonight. He's just curled up on the couch, watching Ghostbusters.

I told myself my next cat would be Harold, but Morton just fits the little guy like a glove. I will have a cat named Harold one day, though. Mark my words.

Jesus Christ his farts are deadly. Like mother like son.

Also, I spent all day in a driving class yesterday. From 8:44- 4pm, I watched videos of dead people crashing their cars, and it's safe to say I'm emotionally scarred. The class itself wasn't actually that bad though, neither were the rest of the people there. Everyone was just kind of like, "None of us wanna be here, so we're all suffering together." We were all from different schools, but everyone just sort of found someone to fool around with. And the class was in the basement of a hotel, so there was a continental breakfast upstairs and we all just sort of raided it. And the class itself was in a college-sort of setup, and we were allowed to talk quietly and get up and walk around outside anytime we wanted to. I dunno, I just didn't hate it.

Mort doesn't move if you set things on his head. He'll just let it chill out there like a hat.

Okay I'm gonna watch Ghostbusters and do homework and play with this weird cat.

Also, is it just me or are Egon and Ray really um, "friendly" in the second movie? I'm diggin it.

Still Not Okay

I lack the ability to talk about anything other than Kate McKinnon. It's just not possible. I love her too much.
Like legit though, I can't stop. The only other tab I've been checking her name in the news every few minutes. I saved so many pictures of her from the Emmys to my phone.
Someone should stop me.

After the Emmys, I curled up with Ms. Pickles and watched some of her old videos on YouTube.
Like, old old. Videos from when she first started out and she was still in the Big Gay Sketch Show.
She's come so far in the past 10(?) years. Like, she went from this broke college student doing stand-up to an Emmy Award Winning Actress and Saturday Night Live Performer. I don't even know her personally and I'm so proud of her.
Also, it takes a lot to make me cry (says the girl who cried when the Ghostbusters song started to play during the 2016 version) and the second the announcers got the "K" in her name out of their mouth I screamed and started to cry. I also cried when I saw Kate's face when they said her name. And then some more when she started crying. And even more when she started speaking. I was a mess before she even started talking about her dad. I was like a sprinkler before she could even get off the stage.

I'm legit so proud of someone I've never even met, sue me.

Also I would like to talk about her dress the other night:
Holy Christ.
That is all.

Also, I'm sorry that night's entry was so cheesy, I was crying really hard.
I still wanna cry some more. I'm still not okay.

I also definitely bought a Bluray player so I'm armed and ready when the the Bluray version of Ghostbusters comes out on DVD.

I also started this entry on Monday morning and I'm just now finishing it Saturday night. My life is a mess right now and I still can't technically ride. I'll have days when I'm like, "Oh hey, my ribs don't hurt today, I should totally ride!" And then the day goes on and I'm like, "Jesus Christ kill meeeeee."

I also have three projects/essays due within three weeks. One essay on Harold Ramis (I'm so pumped about this one), an educational video and an essay on Remus and Romulus (I'm going to get expelled for what I have planned for this), and an essay on the American Dream.

Also, it's worth mentioning that Ms. Pickles might be getting a brother. I'll elaborate on this when the story develops.

I also have a driving class that lasts all day tomorrow. I am not excited about it, but I'm just gonna go head first at it, Bill Murray style. Crack jokes the entire class and act like I don't have a care in the world, when in reality, I'm dying on the inside. Maybe I'll even get laid tomorrow, Bill Murray style.
I'm kidding. I'm not going to get laid via-driving class. I'm not going to get laid via-anything.

I've also established myself as the class clown in school so far. I've never been more proud of myself.


I also wrote a poem in five minutes the other day, and I'm gonna share it with you guys.

She’s been waiting

Long past her expiration. 

She sits on the doorstep of success

And waits for it to let her in.

She’s outgrown the quiet world

Of compromise.

Her voice is itching to run free.

Her feet follow after. 

Her wanderlust will no longer sit

patiently.

Her heart breaks.

Her head spins.

And her gears start to turn.

Her hands quiver under lights

Her heart flutters over thought.

She turns the page

And breathes

For the first time

In years.

And with one word,

She comes to life.

She sits on the doorstep of success.

Her heart breaks.

Her head spins.

And the city takes her in.

I think the font changed itself again. I'll end this entry here because I don't want to deal with the whole font thing right now and I have to wake up really early tomorrow.

Kate McFreakinKinnon

OH MY GOD KATE MCKINNON WON AN EMMY

I LEGIT CRIED HARDER THAN SHE DID AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT BECAUSE SHE WAS BAWLING AND I ALSO SCREAMED A LOT.

I'M SO PROUD OF HER AND IT'S LIKE??? I'VE NEVER EVEN MET HER??

LIKE, I'VE BEEN WATCHING HER ON SNL SINCE FOREVER AND SEEING HER NOW GETTING HER FIRST EMMY IS LIKE????? SHE'S SO GROWN UP?????

GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH

Okay, I can only use capslock for so long because I just sort of have to hold down the shift key on my Chromebook.

Okay, but seriously though, I love Kate so much. And because I have such a small audience on this blog anyway, I'm gonna do this:


Kate, if you ever read this blog ever, or if I ever meet you in real life, thank you.
Thank you for being you, completely, unabashedly you.
Thank you for never taking a single interview seriously.
Thank you for referring to your cat, Nino, as you son.
Thank you for the Celesbian Interviews.
Thank you for the Big Gay Sketch Show.
Thank you for Jillian Holtzmann.
Thank you for being the first SNL performer to win an Emmy.
Thank you for making the first SNL performer to win an Emmy female.
Thank you for the 40-Year Old 20-Year Old series.
Thank you for crying when you heard your name called tonight.
Thank you for being on SNL.
Thank you for helping me and thousands of other people out there help come to terms with themselves.
Thank you for being a lesbian, and for being so open about it.
Thank you for making fart jokes.
Thank you for Notary Publix.
Thank you for being so honest and real.
Thank you for being the first thing that comes to mind when I start to really doubt myself.
And thank you, thank you so, so much for helping me realize something that I cling to: Women are funny. Because honestly, I've been bullied for a huge majority of my life for being funny, because people don't think women are supposed to be funny. But honestly? We're hilarious and we'll fight anyone on that.

So Kate, if I ever get the opportunity to meet you in real life, I'll try to say something relatively close to this but with a lot more stuttering and crying and probably a little screaming and awkward attempts at trying to hint that I really wanna hug you.

But thank you, Kate McKinnon. I love you and I've loved every moment of seeing you grow as a comedian on SNL. Thank you for inspiring me and so many other women. God, I love you. I'm totally gonna try to hug you if I ever meet you and I'm going to warn you now, it's gonna be weird af.


That's all I need for today.

Uh Oh I'm Salty

I'm going to rant here for a moment. You cannot stop me. Then I will get to my regularly scheduled crap.

I know what OCD is. I've been friends with people with clinically diagnosed OCD for years. In 9th grade I read the entirety of the DSM-V just to familiarize myself with mental disorders because I think it's interesting.

"Oh, I have to fix that, my OCD is driving me crazy!"
That is not OCD. You're making yourself sound stupid. OCD is doing things like washing your hands until they bleed because you're scared they're not clean. It's doing things like walking in and out of the same door over and over again because you legitimately cannot stop.
It is not noticing something that's slightly different from something else and wanting to change it. That's an entirely different thing called OCPD, which is concentrated to orderliness and attention to detail. Stop calling it OCD, because it starts to desensitize people to what it really is and makes it harder for people who really have to be understood.
Stop. Saying. You. Have. A. Disorder. You. Do. Not. Actually. Have. It just makes the people who have the disorders lives a lot harder, and you sound stupid.

End of rant.


Anyway! I tried to exercise last night because I feel useless and lazy, and I decided planking would be fun.
Do not plank with mess up ribs. It will hurt and you will want to rip your ribs out. I was going to ride today but now I can barely laugh.

Also, I've found my favorite thing. It's getting terrible Chinese food and having Bill Murray movie marathons. I watched Meatballs and Ghostbusters on repeat last night while eating Chinese food and I'm gonna declare it my "unwinding activity" if that makes any sense. Like, it chills me out. It's like a massage but with sketchy food and movies.

Actually, in Twin Peaks, FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper once said to Sheriff Harry Truman:

"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."

Also that's gonna bug me that that's not in the same font.
See? I'm bothered, but that doesn't mean I have OCD.

But yeah, I think movie marathons and Chinese food is my present to myself.
Coffee does the trick, too, though. I really like coffee.

Also, it's worth mentioning that I've officially worn out my Ghostbusters DVD. It skips from when Ray drives the hearse to the station all the way to when Winston is being interviewed for the job.

That's a big skip.

I watch it on repeat anyway, because Ghostbusters makes me happy. Not a whole lot makes me happy anymore.

I use the word "also" a lot in my blogs. Oh well.

Also, thank you WalMart for having Ghostbuster hoodies, but also screw you WalMart for making your layout impossible to find them.
No, no I did not get one. They also don't have the DVD in either, nor do they have Stripes. Get it together, WalMart.

Yeah that'll do.

Darn this technology.

 I'm debating whether or not I just wanna post little scribbles from my binder for today's entry. I'm really tired and I don't have a lot to write today. I'm always really tired.

I just started crying for some reason. Just, out of the blue, tears. Get back in there, you scoundrels. I'm not even sad why are you here? Completely random, unnecessary tears.

Okay, yeah, I think I'm just gonna post pictures from my binder and stuff. That sounds easy.

It's Ms. Pickles!

I actually draw Harold Ramis a lot. He's my dude.

This is some coyote thing I actually draw all the time. I don't know
why.

Mulder! Yeah no I tried.

This is what it feels like to try to function in society with a mild
head injury. I just want to sleep.

Werewolf girl! Sorry this is so hard to see.

Scribble head guy!

My interpretation of Michael Phelps. Olympic swimmers
just look like muscular thumbs to me.

Get Spoopy!

I added Scully a few pages away. I couldn't just have Mulder.
Two for one.

Another Harold. This was a pain to get down here because
my computer uploaded this one and the next three
at the top of the entry. Pray for me.

You know what, screw this, guys because my computer won't cooperate and I'm tired. You'll see them eventually.

Harold Ramis, PsyD

You know, I was going to write about how I have a a mental therapist, not like, a mental therapist, but like, a therapist I made up in my head and 'talk' to when I'm sad. Haha this is why I need a real therapist. Anyway, that would have taken pictures and I don't feel like finishing that right now, but it's definitely in the works.
Also, I think my carpal tunnel is coming back.

Okay, also, story time. So there's these two dots next to my right eye (my right, not yours), and they've always sort of been there and I've just sort of accepted them at this point. Like, I even draw them when I'm drawing myself. And all of the sudden, one of said dots have decided to become acne and it's like "what? why would you betray me like that, eye dot?" And honestly, if it goes away I'm gonna miss it. Like, I'll still have the other dot, but the other dot isn't neither as noticeable? I dunno man.

I still can't ride. That's weird.

I definitely watched a kid shovel ketchup into his mouth today with a fork. That was great.

I think that's it for the day. My anxiety is acting up and I want to curl up and stop existing. I guess that's what my mental therapist is for.

My mental therapist is, by the way, Harold Ramis. He seems like a therapist kind of guy. Just like, I think he would make that one face he made in Stripes all the time if he were my therapist. Does that make any sense? Hold up.

Yeah that one. That's actually one of the first pictures that comes up when I type 'Harold Ramis Stripes' into Google. He makes that face in Ghostbusters, too. Maybe that was just a thing he did.

But yeah, I picture that thing sitting down across from me with a clipboard absentmindedly nodding while I go over my grievances. And then, essentially, I give myself my own pep talk. Occasionally, if that doesn't work (and it hardly doesn't) I'll throw in some Robin Williams while I'm at it. Double whammy. Bill Murray and Kate McKinnon make guest appearances, as well. God, I'm so messed up. I'm just some super lonely kid who has no one to talk to about their issues and it's slowly killing me and by slowly I mean very quickly and I'm not quite sure what I'm doing with my life but I definitely think there's something wrong with me but my mother refuses to take me to an actual therapist because she's convinced that Lou and I are completely fine when in reality we haven't been okay in a really long time please just someone help me. 

*Takes a very large, over dramatic breath*

That may have been world's longest run on sentence. We can now pretend that didn't happen. Isn't funny how time works like that? That sentence happened in the past, so we don't have to worry about it anymore. Cool, huh?

Yeah that's it for the day.

Priorities

I really want to be on SNL one day. I grew up watching it, and I think that's what I want to do. Even though my career goals change weekly.

Also, I need a car by December. That's an issue because I'm stupid and I want a cool car. By cool car, I mean a Volkswagen Microbus. I want one and I want one bad. It's like, I'll never have to pay for a hotel because they have pull out beds AND stoves and fridges and sinks, so I don't even really need a house.

Also, there's a girl who always rides in the elevator with me at school. She seems cool. She has nice hair and this wonderfully bright yellow shoes. I have no idea who she is.

Also it's so freaking cold in my house but Ms. Pickles is like a little heater.

That's all I've got.

Cheers.

Everyone is dying and I want to go home.

I talk about death a lot on this blog. I'm sorry.

But today, we're gonna talk less about death and more about the suffering before death, because I feel like that's an appropriate subject.

Jk I'm totally not gonna do that it's just gonna put me in a weird mood. An emo mood. I'll make a MySpace profile and everything.

Anyway, because everything in my life is dying simultaneously, I've lost two long-time pets in the past two weeks. I haven't cried once, but that being said, I haven't cried in a really long time, so I guess that's not that weird.

But Blanchard and Paprika were kind of waiting, I guess. They had topped their lives at age 15, so you can't really be that sad. I think they wanted this. Blanch had a tumor on the side of his face that not only prevented him from eating, but also messed with his bad eye. Paprika just got to the point where she couldn't get up anymore. Death isn't a selfish thing. It would have been selfish for them to stay.

And it's really weird, you kind of miss the dead before they're dead. Disease and suffering changes so much of someone to the point of where they aren't themselves anymore. Paprika stopped wiggling her butt/stub of a tail long before she couldn't get up. Blanchard's purrs were no long rivaled by the aggressive whirr of the vacuum months before he started spending his days in the corner of the bathroom, head cocked to one side to compensate for the weight of the tumor.
 
They were gone long before they died, I guess is what I'm trying to say. I feel like there's a difference between dying and actually being dead. Like, dying is more or less mental, while being dead is like, actually physically dead. I don't know what I just said but it sounds like something out of a seventh grade preteen girl's secret poetry diary, which I totally didn't have when I was that age.

Maybe I'll write a happy post in a few days. Maybe I'll finally make my promised shower-attack post. In the meantime:
@literally everyone. Leave me alone. I don't care. Just walk away. A little further. Little bit more, no, no, to your left. There, that'll work. Stay right there for a while. I don't want to talk to you and I don't care what's going on in your life because mine's a mess right now and I don't care how great you're doing in school or how great your horse is or anything and everything about your love life. I don't care about what you ate for lunch. I don't care about who you ran into at the store. I don't care. Let me watch my small collection of Bill Murray movies in peace. I don't want you anymore.

Paprika and baby Klepto

Blanchard at the top, then Paprika, Blanchard's
brother grey behind her, and Moby at the front.

Godspeed, kids. You did good.

Ayyyyy

So I'm still broken, which is weird. My ribs hurt and I'm tired 24/7. Yeah it's super weird.

But because I'm hard headed and I don't listen to anything anyone tells me, I went to Dragoncon this weekend instead of staying home and resting. So I was basically on my feet walking/rushing around in full costume for numerous hours on Sunday. Which is exactly what anyone should do with a mild head injury and messed up ribs.

It was fun though. I dressed as my wife  Jillian Holtzmann, and my brother dressed as a hateful tumblr anon.

I was actually stopped at one point because some actually mistook me for Kate McKinnon, also my wife and I honestly wanted to cry I was so happy. That's what all cosplayers want to hear. That and Kate McKinnon is drop dead gorgeous and I totally don't have a shrine of pictures of her on my phone.

Paprika is still dead, which is also very weird, and I still need to write something about that. I'll get to that, eventually. Maybe tomorrow.

I finished this blog entry during the course of 3 days. That's a new one.

Cheers

Damage Report

Before I talk about anything, I feel obliged to mention that our old dog Paprika was put down yesterday morning. It's a sad situation and honestly deserves its own post. I'll do that another time, though.

I'm writing this from my school computer, on a Thursday (note: a school day) from my couch.

Why?

Because I did something stupid yesterday.
Okay, it wasn't that stupid, it seemed like a neat idea at the time, because hey, riding a bucking fit is fun.
Riding a bucking fit with no stirrups is not as fun.
Seeing stars is also not fun.
Feeling a popping noise every time you breathe is not a fun thing.
Spending 5 hours in the ER is REALLY not fun.

I've got fifty different things that hurt like a little b**** right now, including where the doctor gave me a shot of pain meds and a dirty bruise on my heel from where my spur dug in through my boot on impact. I hurt in places I didn't know I could hurt.
I'm not allowed to ride for 10 days at the least, but I can tell you right now that as long as no one is stopping me, I will ride before then. I'm also not allowed to walk up stairs or carry heavy things, so I can't even touch my book bag right now and I have to take the elevator at school. I have a list of more things I can't do and things I'm supposed to do, but I don't want to get up and look.

Also, to all my equestrian readers, wear a helmet. The doctor said it would have been a thousand times worse if I hadn't been wearing mine. I don't care if you think they're ugly or inconvenient, they save lives.
Mind your melon.

I'm also supposed to be sleeping right now, but obviously, that's not going to happen. I have a 5 day weekend this week, so maybe I'll sleep then. Maybe. I still have a convention this weekend, but I'm not technically supposed to walk around that much. I don't know what I'm doing with my life right now, but obviously not a whole lot because I can't.

Also, the kitten's name is currently Ms. Pickles.

That's enough for one day, I have to go online helmet shopping now.
Cheers