The love of my life.

Luna.

She's currently sleeping on my foot.

She just peeked open one eyelid, streched out her paw, and tangled her claws into my sock.

I'm not allowed to go anywhere.

Who would argue with that?

Want.

One Eyed Octopus on Wheels by PearsonMaron

Friendly Narwhal Laptop Decal by beepart

Chicken Meat Chart Pillow by GoBuggyGo

Cute-thulhu by Jellibat

Octopus Sterling Silver Oxidized Necklace by Irisjewelrydesign

So... who wants to bank roll me?

Nerves.

Two years ago when I had surgery, I wasn't nervous.
I wasn't afraid.
I wasn't even bothered by it really.
I mean, I hate those stupid open-backed hospital gowns that really only serve to titillate any pervy members of the hospital staff that happen to be wandering around when you're trying to find a bathroom and I was a bit angry about having to wear one, but, other than that, I was the epitome of cool when they put me under. Even the anaesthesiologist seemed a bit thrown by the fact that I was so cavalier about the whole thing. He kept giving my Father the "Your daughter is either crazy-brave or on drugs" look in between sticking a needle in my hand. Go figure.

I'm nervous now though.
I'm nervous about the stupid test I have to have later today.
I'm nervous about the results.
I'm nervous that, because I happen to be benched right now when it comes to sex, that I'm suddenly going to be way less appealing.*
I'm nervous that this isn't going to be a quick fix.
I'm nervous as hell and, frankly, I wish I could have just played hookie with Kate all day instead of having to face real life.

Tonight is going to suck and tomorrow is going to be really interesting.








*As a side note on this point, because I know I'm going to get guff for it, I realize that any guy who only wants to have sex with me isn't worth my time anyway. I realize that. I will punch anyone who decides to go all Femi-nazi on me because they think I'm niave and/or dillusional. Girl power is great and all, but honestly all it really serves to do most of the time is cover up our larger insecurities about the way men view us so cool it with that shit for a second, okay? Here's the thing - at this current juncture, I don't think I'm ready for the revelation that a guy I might want only wants me for sex. I don't think I have the capacity to be let down by that right now, and this entire "Hey you can't have sex because your uterus is on strike" thing is sort of pushing that issue to the forefront and forcing me to deal with it. I'm cranky about it and, obviously, nervous. If you still feel the need to lecture me, you've been warned, and I have a mean right hook.

A random string of thoughts and cuteness.

Okay. How cute are these shoes?I just bought these today from TOMS shoes - you know, that awesome organization that makes adorable hipster shoes and, when you purchase a pair, they send a pair to a child in need (hopefully a pair with glitter) which makes you feel super about your life and the fact that you don't do anything else to give back to the less fortunate because you're too busy with Mason Gross to remember that other people even exist?
I may have gone off topic there....
Anyway! You should all go buy a pair of TOMS shoes because they're fabulous and it's all for a good cause.

Also, and this is totally unrelated, why are all the awesomely creepily cute illustrations that I may possibly want to use as inspiration for a future monster crochet project from Japanese books that are impossible to get a hold of?! I was browsing through the blog Pink Tentacle (which is awesome, by the way) and these fantastic illustrations kept popping up like this one of a japanese sea monster (Yeah, that's a sea monster. I know, it's adorable. And googlie-eyed. Try not to giggle.)

Or this one of the anatomy of a "Black hair cutter" a beastie that supposedly sneaks up on women in dark alleys and cuts off their hair. (Seriously. That's their monster. Seriously.)I was looking to purchase the books that these pictures came from only to find that I can only buy them in Japanese.... and only if I use yen. It made me want to punch babies. For now, I'm just going to have to use what I have and deal with it. God, that is so not like me.

Speaking of dealing with what I have... Well, I'm simply not going to do that with my (purely hypothetical) desserts. What I have sucks. SUCKS. I've decided I hate pie. Even more so now that I'm just generally pissed off about life and the fact that my body is defective. Also, I'm starting to hate cake too. The whole "now that I'm sick, life seems too short, etc., etc..." line really is true. Life is too short for me to chase around or even care about some cake that doesn't seem to care about me.
I'm tired.
I'm in pain.
I'm going to bury myself in my yarn and just be done with it.
Done with desserts until what I want stops throwing it's frosting around to other patrons like it's going stale and what I don't want gets purchased by someone else.
It'll all sort itself out.
In the meantime, I have glittery shoes on the way.

Something happier.

And I'm not talking about me..


How is this not the coolest thing on Etsy right now?!imadeyouabeard has the cutest shop ever. I. want. everything.

It's inspired me to try to crochet those moustaches I've been meaning to attempt for some time now.
You know.. right after I start (and finish) my Halloween costume, finish my unicorn, finish the half-started embroidery pieces lying around my life, make a purple sequined cod piece (oh no, I'm not kidding), and do all the work I'm actually going to get graded on.

They better not have to cut anything out of me, because I simply don't have the time for it. So there.

Things I learned today.

1. My body is defective.
Like seriously defective. Apparently it now needs a tune-up every two years just so it can fucking function. My accupuncture appointment tonight turned into a roundtable discussion between myself, my accupuncturist, and my gynocologist about whether I was going to have to go under the knife again or if I just have a bad hormonal imbalance. Oh yes. It was super relaxing. Either way I have to go for another ultrasound (and not the fun kind from Juno), do another spit test, and go back for another appointment. Did I mention that they probably won't come to some kind of concensus for at least another two weeks and I'm going to be in pain that entire time? It's super great to be me right now.

2. I don't care about cake or pie.
I told myself I was never going to chase a (hypothetical) dessert around ever again... and I broke that promise. It was a mistake. Now I have real problems and I couldn't care less about a couple of pastries that just see me as a quick piece of ass. If you want me, really want me, delicious sweet lickable sugary confections, you know where to find me.

3. I have the most amazing friends on the planet.
People say that all the time, but for me, it's really true. I'm an asshole and I have someone to go out to lunch with every week who adores me, a friend who's willing to get up at like 6am to see me tomorrow, and a bunch of people I know I can count on for hugs and support...
And I know I'm going to need it. Especially now.

I know what my ideal outcome for this situation would be..
Picture it:
[WARNING! Uber-sentimental ramblings of a sick person to follow. Not for those with weak stomachs.]
My seemingly unattainable cake and I waltzing through the streets of New York City. Him, actually interested in more than just sleeping with me and me not doubled over in pain, feeling lightheaded or nauseous, or otherwise ill. He will want to hold my hand, I won't bite his head off when he tries. He'll realize I'm what he always needed and let me in and I won't run like a frightened school girl when he does. We'll have fun, more fun than I've ever had with a guy. I'll be myself, really myself, and he'll like it. And when it's all over, and he wakes up and realizes he's never going to find anyone better than me, he'll call. And he won't want to hang up.
[End of sentimental nonsense.]

But that's not going to happen.

The reality is I have feelings for a guy who is never going to want any of that, and I don't even have the capacity to care about that fact. All I can do is brave these tests and try to sleep at night with the thought of another surgery-recovery period looming just beyond the edges of my dreams.

It's time to put my big girl pants on again.
Damn.

Howl.

"Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers;
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters.
A man who's pure of heart and says his prayers by night
May still become a wolf when the autumn moon is bright.
If you could only see
The beast you've made of me
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free
The saints can't help me now
The ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground."

Perhaps this isn't the best day to be blogging with my head pounding and a drink in my hand, but, with that said, I have a confession to make.

I have a terrible habit of being able to figure out what I want very, very quickly. The amount of time it takes for me to be able to admit that "want" to myself varies, but I always know. Somewhere, in the back of my incredibly fucked up mind, I always know. And when this whole (hypothetical) cake vs. pie mess started, I knew what I wanted immediately.

And today, I finally admitted it to myself.

Now, the trick is to let it come to me.... and resist the urge to hunt it down.

Cake or Pie.

I have a scenario for you.... purely hypothetical, of course.

Let's say you have a huge sweet tooth... and I mean huge. We're talking a completely epic, creampuff annihilating, eclair eviscerating, insatiable sweet tooth here....

BUT all you've been able to eat for the last 8 months was Jell-o. Raspberry Jell-o. Watery, Robitussin-esque rasberry Jell-o day-in and day-out for 8 whole months. Your taste buds have practically shut down from over-exposure to the most banal dessert in the world and you think you're going to have to suffer like this forever. You think you're doomed to a life of boredom and understimulation and that never again will you be able to have a dessert worthy of your discerning palette.

And then suddenly, like a miracle, the Jell-o is gone. Forever. And you're just trying to recover, honestly you are, you're not taking any big steps or trying to rush your newly freed sweet tooth along. There's no creme brule or raspberry pavlova or sticky toffee pudding for you, just a cookie or maybe a few Hershey kisses if you're feeling particularly racy. You don't want anything sweeter, you don't think you're ready, you don't think you can really appreciate the depth of flavor of anything more complex.

Or maybe you can, just maybe you can.. very suddenly once again, you find yourself in the most delectable bakery you've ever seen. It's as if every sweet in there were made specifically to tempt you, to woo your taste buds back to their former glory, and you're overwhelmed.

Positively and utterly overwhelmed.

It takes you a while, but you manage to beat back the desserts that seem to be throwing themselves at you in their desperation to be sold and to fend off the ones that you know are going to taste just downright terrible. You've got it narrowed down to that age old choice: cake or pie.

On one hand you've got the pie. It's homey, comforting, and is trying so hard to be sweet and delicious. It wants you to want it, badly. And you want to want it too.. you know it's a good choice. A safe, easy, good choice.

And then there's the cake. The flashy, dangerous cake buried under some positively delectable frosting. Maybe there's something more substantial under there... in fact, you're pretty sure there is, but you know it's too sweet. You know if you choose that cake it could either be the exact thing you've always wanted or it could make you terribly and horribly sick.

You know you have a bit of an impulse control problem, that's what got you stuck in raspberry Jell-o hell to begin with... but it's your first time shopping for dessert since then and you don't want to settle....

So what do you choose?

Cake or Pie?

Truth.

Things I am:


Impatient. It gets me in trouble a lot, but it's a habit I can't seem to kick. I want what I want when I want it and I can't understand why people aren't as decisive or demanding as I am. It also causes me to run head-first into things, often without thinking. Bottom line - it gets me in trouble. Often.


Moody. I'm never neutral about anything. Ever. I'm constantly bouncing from one extreme to another, especially if I haven't eaten. You don't want to see me pre-coffee and a donut in the morning.. it's a scary, scary thing. Like Roger-Moore-in-Octopussy scary. Yeah. I know. It's really bad.


Judgmental. I either like you or I don't.. either way, though, when I see you, I'm going to judge what you're wearing, what you're saying, and what you're doing and, if I think it's rediculous, I will mock you for it until I'm dead or you do something stupider. Just expect it and move on.


Sarcastic/Inappropriate. I always say the wrong thing. Always. I know what the right thing is, but I love watching people squirm (and I'm very good at making it happen). I don't pull punches, I don't shut my mouth just because it's disrespectful, and I don't answer to anyone. If you don't want me to target you, don't come near me, because I can't help myself. Simple as that.



Things I'm not:


Nice. Here, wait, let me repeat it again.. I am not nice. Not at all. You may think I am, but that's because you haven't done anything stupid enough for me to mock yet. I'm constantly calculating, constantly judging, and if I'm not saying anything mean, it's because I'm thinking something mean or texting something mean about you to the person standing next to you. Oh yes. I do that.


Slow. Don't ever assume I don't know what's going on. I probably know what stupid stunt you're going to pull before you've even figured it out yet. Don't let the pom-pom hat fool you, I am not a simpleton. I know. I get it. Assuming I'm a step behind you is going to be your downfall.


Too young. I'm 20 years old. Age-wise, I'm a wee little baby, but I grew up around old people. Lots and lots of old people who decided it was their mission in life to teach me about "things." I know what TV show, movie, song, or otherwise out-dated nonsense you're talking about. You're not going over my head. Trust me. I'm with you. I know Hawaii-50 isn't new, I know Sunny Crocket wasn't originally played by Colin Farrell, Yes, the Thomas Crown Affair was better with Steve McQueen, No, I'm not amused by the fact that you only know one song by The Eagles... Stop underestimating me. You're really just embarrassing yourself.


Average. The things I find funny, cute, or otherwise amusing are not going to appeal to anyone in the same way. Put indelicately, I like things other people find creepy and fucked-up. That's just me. I'm not boring, but I'm certainly not who you bring home to Mom. No really.. your Mom will hate me.




Well.. there you have it. The worst of me.

SO! Who wants a hug now?

High Demand.

Seems like everybody wants a piece of me these days.... and it's starting to get a bit overwhelming. I'm constantly being pulled in a million different directions at once and I can't seem to keep up. My projects are demanding, people keep offering me outside work, and don't even get me started on my personal life. Ugh.

I need a vacation.

Or this..

Uggghhh.

Wow, I feel terrible.

I know that after not posting for so long, that isn't the most encoraging line, but it's so true. I went to New York ComicCon on Saturday and I ate something that has absolutely destroyed my digestive system. Right now, I'm surviving on coffee and a prayer because for some unknown reason, my finicky stomach seems to have a weakness for hot, caffinated beverages. Go figure.

Although, with the exception of this crippling food poisoning, the Con was amazing.
I met Andrew Bell.
Seriously.
Andrew Bell.
(for those of you who live under a rock, click here so you can understand my obsession.)

He is literally my favorite illustrator, and there he was behind the Dead Zebra booth just chillin and moving some Oh No Sushi around like he wasn't a monster-creating god.

"i'm not talking to you right now.."

I mean, c'mon, just look at that! Andrew Bell is amazing and it took everything I had not to just hug him and cry like a baby.. it was a rather embarrassing urge really, but, I think, totally justified.

Also, I got tons of free books, a subscription to Bust magazine for a year for $10, and I bought an adorably creepy tote bag made by Glamour Kills.

[As a side note, I probably shouldn't have started browsing the rest of the website because now I also want this:

::sigh::]

Anyway, it really was the best fucking day ever. (Erm.. well.. with the exception of the fact that I now feel as if my internal organs are trying to escape through my throat, of course.)

Unfortunately, while I'd love to continue to sit here and type about my life, I have a feeling I'm going to start to get a little too personal. I have some decisions to make.. thankfully I have some great sounding boards that don't involve the internet. Hopefully everything will be sorted out soon.. I hate waiting.