September Remembered

It seems like September is a hard month for a lot of people. Green Day hates the month so much, they want to sleep through the whole thing and not wake up until it’s over.

But in my little neck of the woods, September is (mostly) splendid. Rather than simply telling you about it, I think the photos and screenshots I’ve taken on my phone over the past 30 (well, 28) days will paint a pretty good picture.

Warning: this post contains some vague and confusing nudity.    

September 3
While watching Silver Linings Playbook, I realized that young Bradley Cooper bares a strikingly creepy resemblance to a person I used to be quite close with, but now haven’t spoken to in 6 years. That guy’s probably in prison by now. Not even kidding.  Just to clarify, it’s the former friend who’s probably in prison –  not Bradley Cooper. I mean, Bradley Cooper COULD be in prison right now, I don’t really know.

How much do ANY of us know about him, really?


September 4
Celebrated my mom’s birthday weekend with lots of mother-daughter shenanigans. Happy Birthday, Cheese Mom! Sorry for any blog-related shame I’ve brought you, and will continue to bring you, for an indefinite period of time!

Also, thank you for providing such good material.

Yes, her shirt does say “Nope.” I like to to think she takes after me.

September 9
I completed all of my clinical hours for FULL licensure as a professional counselor (as opposed to a lowly counselor intern). First, I celebrated in my office with a mini dance party,  which was witnessed by a bewildered handyman walking by.

Later, I celebrated with potatoes and pretty drinks, just like our forefathers would have wanted.


September 10
I began a new and weird research project about personality disorders. It was a slow start.


September 11
I admitted that I am powerless against the mighty Cheeto.


September 12
Happy Birthday to one of my best friends, who will always and forever be 12 days older than I am, which I will hold over her until the day I die. Or until the day she dies, since she’s so much older and wrinklier.

Rather than putting up a picture of her, I have included this drawing that I made of her when we were 10. She’s the only one with hair.

I don’t know who all the bald people are, or why everyone’s naked. I’m now a little concerned about my 10-year-old self.


September 16
Celebrated my birthday (early) at an outdoor bar. Bacon-covered cheese and alcoholic beverages were involved. So were dogs. Lots and lots of dogs.



September 22
These birthday presents from mah cheese wife and her kids do a pretty good job of demonstrating my personality. You’re looking at a dolphin nightshirt and a tortilla warmer with a chicken on it. In the past, I’ve used foil to keep my tortillas warm, like some kind of miserable peasant. Now, not only will my carb vehicles be kept toasty, they will look good while doing it. This festive feathery bastard is really going to liven things up in my kitchen.


A note to my friends and family:  please refrain from buying me chicken-themed  items in the future. The fact that I like this particular chicken does not mean I wish to start hoarding them.

September 24
At last, my birthday! I went shopping, ate too many treats, and petted some more dogs. Needless to say, it was a pretty excellent day.

It’s been a whirlwind 30 (okay, 28) days of festivities, food, and fur babies! It hasn’t been perfect, but it’s been just nice enough to make me forget about that whole persistent eyelid infection thing. Which I still have, you guys. I’m going to need some more Cheetos.

Not the Brightest Bulb in the Box

One lit bulb among unlit ones

I can be a strange grown up sometimes.

There are some duties that I can carry out on a consistent basis, and with little complaint. I’ll gallivant around, adulting like a fricken champion, with “You’re Gonna Make it After All” playing triumphantly in my head.


And then, I’ll hit a wall. Suddenly, the simplest of tasks will seem like a huge mountain to climb. A burden to shoulder. An obstacle to cross. An – never mind, you get it.

An indefinite number of weeks ago, a light bulb in one of my living room lamps went out. No problemo. I always keep “extras” of certain items around, and I quickly replaced it. Since this was the last of my extra light bulbs, I put the item on my grocery list, figuring I could pick some up the next time I went to the store.

And this, my friends, is where things got weird.

I’ve gone to the store numerous times since running out of bulbs, and each time, I leave without them. I see the word on my grocery list – and then disregard it with a hint of apathy.

“Eh, the lightbulbs are all the way on the other side of the store, and I just…I don’t know. I don’t want to.”

Then, I stare wistfully at the other side of the store, as though I really WISH I could get to the bulbs, if only they weren’t so far away. If only there weren’t so many obstacles in between us. I picture this journey to The Other Side as something akin to Oregon Trail – complete with oxen to yoke and rivers to ford.

I’d be desperate, tired,  and hungry. I’d probably catch cholera.

Especially if I’m at Walmart.

It’s now been weeks, no, months, since I used that last bulb, and I still haven’t bought new ones.

What is this? Is this just simple laziness? If so, then why can I run 53 errands, unload the dishwasher, clean the bathroom, and still have energy left over to bake a cake, but getting light bulbs is just slightly beyond my abilities?


Each time I stand in the store and make the decision to forgo the bulbs yet again, I get a mischievous thrill. Like a high schooler plotting to skip class. Or, like an adult who can refuse to do simple tasks, because there are no other adults around to punish me.

Screw the patriarchy! They can’t tell me when to buy light bulbs!

But when I leave the store empty-light-bulb-handed, I feel a bit guilty and weirded out by myself. Unfortunately, the guilt’s not enough to change my mind the next time around.

I’ve come to terms with the idea that there will eventually be a consequence for my behavior. At some point, another bulb will go out in my apartment, and I’ll be plunged into an inconvenient darkness until I can get new ones.

Who knows how long this’ll go on – maybe I’ll never get new ones! Maybe my light bulb laziness will go on for years until I have no lights in my apartment and people refuse to visit me because I’ve become a stubborn, darkness-dwelling, fang-less vampire.

That’s right, I’ve now reached the point where I would rather just accept my future punishment for not doing the thing that I need to do, rather than just DOING the thing that I need to do.

NOTE: I originally wrote the above post FOUR freaking months ago, but ultimately decided not to post it. Why did I publish it today? You guessed it. The first lightbulb has gone out.

And so it begins.

Has anyone else found themselves completely unmotivated to do a simple task? What chore challenged you? Did you eventually give in and do it, or did you endure some type of consequence?


Consp-eye-racy Theories


A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that my eyelid hates me and has decided to rebel against the rest of my face. I went to the eye doctor, endured a little torment, got some antibiotics, and assumed I was well on my way to living happily ever after.

Unfortunately, my eyelid is still in a bad state. No, it’s not in Arkansas. I just meant that it’s still really red and uncomfortable.

The antibiotics improved the condition somewhat, then it stayed exactly the same with no improvement for several days, and then it suddenly got much worse. It looks a little something like this, only much less fashionable:

Eyes are creepy up close, no?

I’ve asked my eyelid why it’s committing mutiny, and it has yet to answer. I would torture it for information, but since it’s attached to me, it’d be like I’m torturing myself. And it’s already doing a pretty good job of that on its own. As they say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. So since my eyelid is my enemy, and I am the enemy of my eyelid, then I am actually my friend.  But I can’t technically be my own friend, because a) that might make my other friends feel a little insecure about where they stand with me, and b) my eyelid is not really my enemy. My eyelid might think that we’re enemies, but I personally dislike conflict, and would prefer that we all just get along.

Especially since this particular enemy is attached to my face.

After giving it some thought, I’ve come up with a couple of reasons for my eyelid’s suddenly-worsened condition. You might call them conspiracy theories. Or, consp-eye-racy theories.

No, don’t give me that look. You have to give me this terrible joke. I have nothing else.

Theory 1 – Three years ago, I woke up with shingles. My eyelid is under the impression that I enjoyed that time of my life, and is trying to help me relive it.

Theory 2 – My eyelid knows how much I like the colors pink and purple, and thinks I would like to experience these colors on my face.

Theory 3 – My eyelid is misogynistic, and is dissatisfied with my feminist views.

Theory 4 – I told a friend that my skin is looking better than it has in years, thanks to avoiding makeup for the past month. I was trying to have a “look on the bright side” attitude, but my eyelid may have misconstrued this as arrogance, and is wanting to bring me down a peg or two. According to my body, something about my appearance must always be amiss.

Whatever reason my eyelid has, I went back to the doctor on Thursday, and now I’m on a tougher, burlier medication. It’s like the Arnold Schwarzenegger of antibiotics.

In yo face, eyelid! Except you live on my face, so your face is also my face. But that’s beside the point!

Honestly, I was hoping the doctor could provide a more elaborate treatment for me. Like…eyelid transplant surgery or something. I have no sentimental feelings left toward this eyelid at all, so I have no problem using some dead person’s eye curtains. If that’s not possible, we could even take a flap of skin from somewhere on my body. Like the back of my knee. Or my butt.

Eyelids made from butts might be unconventional, but maybe they’re less likely to get infected or fall off my face. Yes, maybe butt-lids are more conforming.

I’m going to go ahead and apologize for this sufficiently weird post 🙂




5 Characters Who Might be Narcissistic

For reasons that I won’t bore you with now, I’ve been researching the ins and outs of Narcissistic Personality Disorder over the past week. According to the DSM (abbreviation for Damn Sassy Manual), this disorder involves a sense a self-importance and entitlement, a need for admiration, and a lack of ability to identify with the feelings of others. Narcissists expect others to cater to their needs, and they get angry when this doesn’t happen.

Truthfully, most of us are a little self-important. If you’ve ever fantasized about becoming famous, or if you still sometimes brag about crushing your opponents in the 3rd grade spelling bee, congratulations – you’re narcissistic.

Don’t worry, though. A certain amount of narcissism is normal, and even healthy, in people.  A small dose of self-centeredness keeps you confident and assertive, and reminds you to take care of your own needs now and then.

However, if you’ve ever fallen in love with your own reflection, and then died because you couldn’t tear yourself away from it, you may have a tiny problem. I’m looking at you, Narcissus.


All of this reading and writing about selfish, exploitative, and entitled people has got me thinking about celebrities. If we think about it, there are quite a few famous people who could meet the criteria for NPD. Now, I could point everyone’s attention to a certain orange-skinned, fox-haired blowhard of a politician, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

For lighthearted funsies, I say we keep the focus on non-real characters that appear in movies and TV. This activity will not only help increase my understanding of the personality disorder, it’ll also be good typing practice, because my fourth finger forgets to type that third ‘s’ of narcissism Every. Single. Time.

Get your shit together, finger.

5 characters who might be narcissistic…

Regina George, Mean Girls


Evidence for narcissism – She obviously has a sense of superiority, and is controlling, deceiving, and uncaring. She demands admiration from others, and cuts down her friends’ successes with negative comments.  She strongly believes that others are envious of her.
Evidence against narcissism – None. She and Narcissus would make a great couple. You know, if either of them existed.

Also, as a side note – where the hell has Lindsay Lohan disappeared to for the past few years? I’m thinking aliens.

Miranda Priestly, The Devil Wears Prada


Evidence for narcissism – She’s demanding and cold. She expects perfection from her employees, and harshly criticizes their mistakes. She insists on having the “top” or “best” of everything (i.e., restaurants, hairdressers, etc).
Evidence against narcissism – Miranda seems to have some level of awareness of how she’s perceived, which isn’t typically seen in the self-absorbed crowd.

Michael Scott, The Office


Evidence for narcissism –He exaggerates his achievements, and fantasizes about being loved and admired by all who know him.  He is often shallow and callous, and is oblivious to how his remarks affect others.
Evidence against narcissism – Michael does occasionally express real concern and empathy toward his coworkers, though he usually follows it with an insensitive joke of some sort.

Jenna Maroney, 30 Rock


Evidence for narcissism – She’s attention-seeking and self-centered, and is threatened by anyone else with talent. She’s even in a relationship with someone who dresses and acts just like her, which I feel like is proof enough.
Evidence against narcissism – She shows some care in her relationships with Liz and Paul.

G.O.B. Bluth,  Arrested Development


Evidence for narcissism – He’s arrogant, and constantly seeking others’ approval. He’s always “on stage” – both literally and figuratively. He expects others to take care of him, and struggles to maintain friendships and romantic relationships.
Evidence against narcissism*crickets chirping*

In defense of G.O.B., Jenna, and Michael, I have yet to finish their TV series, so maybe these characters blossom into warm, grounded humans. Maybe not.

So friends, what did you think of my list of narcissists? Can you think of any other characters who might meet these criteria?