In case you’re curious as to how my dating life is going…

I had this metaphor in mind for how online dating was like Pokemon Go, but not in a good way, because you catch all of the crazies and you don’t want to and then I realized I may not understand Pokemon Go and it all fell apart. But I also don’t really understand dating these days either, so maybe it does work? #fullcircle #inception

I know what you’re thinking – L, you are SUCH a catch. How on EARTH are you not spoken for yet? And to that I say – I guess this screen on my Bumble account speaks to that.



Dating is exhausting. Or at least, thinking about dating is. Movies and TV shows where you just run into each other at the grocery or something are bullshit. I go to the grocery on the reg and have yet to be hit on. Even on days I don’t wear my yoga pants.

I just looked and it’s been over a year since I’ve updated you on my dating life. I’ve been on a good amount (in my mind anyway) of dates in that time. So I haven’t given up ALL hope. But you guys.


I made the mistake of staying on Tinder until earlier this summer. Because I guess I needed attention.

About this time last year, I met a guy, Jared, through there who was in town for the week from work from Pennsylvania and I figured we’d get a drink, why not.

A drink turned into much more – including him continuing to text me once he went back to Pennsylvania and making plans to meet up when I went up to see my cousins because he was only a couple hours away. OH. And he managed to finagle his way onto another work trip down here a couple months after we originally met. He picked me up from the airport when I got back to Louisville, yes there was distance but we were seeing what happened because we’d had such good chemistry and conversation and stuff.

Example text, and in case you want to know my flirting style:


Until he went back to Pennsylvania after that second visit and CEASED EXISTING BASICALLY.

The fuck?!

Aside – Will we ever be past ghosting? I hate it. So much. It’s a common theme these days. Because why actually tell someone how you feel when you can just disappear? HA. Feelings.

If only that was the end, y’all. But it wasn’t.

Earlier this summer, he apparently needed to feel better about himself and his shittiness so he messaged me on Facebook and acknowledged that he was an asshole and what he did was wrong. And that he regretted it because he liked me and he fucked up.

To all of that I said… Yup. You’re right. He asked if he could text me again and I allowed it because I wanted to see how far he would take the apology and try and figure out why he even bothered. We talked for about a week before, to nobody’s surprise, he disappeared again. I wrote a strongly worded message in response to that one and then sent three middle finger emojis the next time I got drunk. Because I am a classy lady that way.

Then I had this exchange and was done.


In the winter, I changed it up and tried Bumble – a novel concept in that it’s basically Tinder but the girl has to initiate the conversation. No problem. I’m a feminist. Within a few weeks, I’d re-met someone from my high school who I kind of knew back in the day and he asked me out after a few days of talking.

We had an awesome first date – one of the best I’ve had in a while. Great conversation, a lot in common, he was really smart and I liked making out with him. Here’s the catch – he was unemployed. And living at home. I get extenuating circumstances and stuff, but the way he made it sound, he’d gotten fired. And he had no idea what he wanted out of a new job, his future, anything really.

I’m not nitpicky, but you gotta have some direction.

We went out a couple more times – had a conversation about how he was a horrible texter/communicator which should have tipped me off – and then he decided he didn’t want anything more serious than a hookup. Which I had to get him tell me after much prodding because he again, didn’t have his shit together in any way, really.

I deleted the app. Then re-added it.

Got some shit like this…


I’m all about flirting but I’m not gonna play a game with you. Especially when I’m not entirely sure that it’s not gonna end in an unwelcome and unrequested dick pic.

A couple months ago I went on a couple dates and was talking fairly seriously – and fairly long, actually – with a guy from Indiana. That right there goes against everything in me, because Indiana.


Long story short since hopefully you’re seeing the theme here… all was good until it wasn’t. Meaning three dates in he suddenly “didn’t have time to date right now.” Which is funny cause he was on an alleged dating site trying to meet people. To date. Allegedly.

So. In conclusion. I have trust issues. And need a break. And am taking one. I’m not going looking. A relationship can come find me. Maybe in the grocery.


Wherein I learn a lot about history and once again consider my dreams of being in a musical

You guys.

I am going to go ahead and call for my own intervention. I can’t stop listening to Hamilton.

Trust me, I have tried. There were a few days where I listened to Lemonade on repeat just to remind myself there is other music out there. But it didn’t last.

I mean, look at this:

That’s the first song of the musical. How could you not want more?

I blame my sisters. They were like, “Oh hey you should listen to this Hamilton musical. It’s all hip-hop and so good and stuff.” And now I have at least the first half (before intermission) memorized. Probably. Their fault. Just like the cheese incident of 2013.

This Buzzfeed article sums a lot of it up..

I bought the book Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote about putting the musical together and haven’t read it yet and it’s taking all kinds of willpower to not start it before I’m finished with the other one I’m reading right now.

Speaking of – I’m kind of in love with him now. I think I like every Tweet he writes..

But anyway, all of this musical theatre has reminded me of one of my kind-of-secret-but-not-really-secret dreams, which is to be in a musical.

We’ve grown up listening to or attending several musicals  – Les Miserables, Phantom of the Opera, The Lion King, Cabaret, Cats, Jesus Christ Superstar, Joseph & The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, Jersey Boys, Chicago, Fiddler on the Roof, Oklahoma, Hairspray, Evita, Guys and Dolls, Newsies, Wicked…

I’ve always appreciated them from an audience perspective. But after a while I started wanting to be part of the show.

It started with the chorus. I wasn’t ready for the spotlight, but did want to be on the stage. I wanted to be part of the company in a show, any show.

It wasn’t until Les Mis that I really wanted to be front and center-ish. At first, I wanted to be Madame Thenardier, because the two of them had the most fun song in the whole show. Then I got into a little funk and wanted to be Eponine, because unrequited love and all that. And because ‘On My Own’ is maybe one of the best songs ever.

For Chicago, I started out wanting to be another girl in the jail because ‘Cell Block Tango,’ yo. Then Mama Morton. Because I wanted the best songs.

For Wicked, I would obviously be Elphaba. Because I can hit that damn note in Defying Gravity – mainly when I’m in my car alone, giving Broadway concerts to nobody.

I want to add here that these are singing company roles only because yo’ girl can’t dance. That’s part of why I quit dance when I was 9. (Also ‘cause softball was much cooler and more fun.)

So who do I want to be in Hamilton? Probably Angelica. She’s got some good songs, a good rap (and we know how good I am at rapping) and there’s that whole Eponine quality in the show – going back to my Broadway roots, if you will.

My life is so exciting…

Please help.

Ain’t Nobody Got Time For That

Alternate title: Thoughts That Run Through Your Head During Bronchitis-induced Night Sweats

I get Bronchitis twice a year (at least) like clockwork. Usually in the fall – Bronchtober – and again in the spring because I live in Kentucky, specifically the Ohio River Valley where the pollen blankets the ground like fresh-fallen snow and it goes from snow one day to 80-degree temps the next.

My body literally cannot keep up – my sinuses are too busy getting used to one type of weather that when the next type shows up they just stop working as they should, meaning I’m a sneezy, runny-nosed, coughing, hacking mess. It’s real nice.

Usually I just let it run its course because it’s over fairly quickly, but this latest round has been a beast. Two-plus weeks of misery. I’m currently on prednisone (steroids), a Z-pack and an albuterol inhaler. So I feel real weird in general but I’m coughing a hell of a lot less.

I just started the meds today, which means last night I was at probably the worst point of this shit.

Below, I give you some insights into my mind and trains of thought last night while I was sweating and coughing every 10 seconds and couldn’t sleep/a.k.a. 30 things I actually thought between bedtime and the doctor’s this morning.. all in order:

1. I’m freezing.

2. I’m sweating.

3. I probably have a fever. Too bad my thermometer’s broken.

4. I will never be able to just feel for a fever on someones’ head. How do moms do that?

5. I want my mom here.

6. I want ice cream.

7. How is my body producing this much phlegm?

8. Idea: A vacuum of sorts that you stick down your throat and it just sucks all the phlegm out of your lungs and airways. Is that a thing? It should be.

9. If I’m not gonna sleep, I should keep listening to the Hamilton Soundtrack.

10. Goddang I’m obsessed with Hamilton right now.

11. If I don’t think about coughing I don’t cough..

12. Shit. That didn’t work for very long.

13. EW.

14. All I can think of is those Mucinex commercials and I wanna throw up.

15. I’m sweating.

16. When I coughed earlier it was a little red – probably because my throat is raw from doing this for TWO WEEKS.

17. It has to be that because otherwise it’s that thing in Moulin Rouge where she coughed herself to death throughout the whole movie.

18. That was TB though. I know 100% I do not have tuberculosis.

19. So many things hurt right now. Cheeks, tongue, I think I bruised a rib.

20. On the other hand, I may have significantly tightened my core muscles – six-pack abs here I come…

21. I need to feel better before my birthday.

22. I hate going to the doctor but that’s how you get the good drugs.

23. They better give me steroids and a z-pack and knock this shit out.

24. I hate everything.

25. What time is it?

26. What is time?

27. Was I asleep or did I hallucinate that I was sleeping?

28. I really don’t have time to be sick right now.

29. I’m sweating.

30. I need to move to the beach.

(Getting out of) my own way

There’s an underrated movie – the sequel to “Get Shorty.” It’s called “Be Cool” and if you haven’t watched it, you should. Even though he’s extra creepy now, John Travolta does alright in it – but the better parts in it are any featuring Vince Vaughn, The Rock or Andre 3000. Best parts (in my opinion) are in the video below (very best is right about the 6:15 mark).

Anyways. Be Cool. The phrase, not the movie, has been on my mind lately. Because, wouldn’t ya know it, one of the hardest things someone with anxiety can try to do or be told to do is “be cool.”

I wish I could tell you that after my last long post – you know, the one about Tinder and being single and finding love and all that – I’ve been MIA because that boy who asked me the trivia question and I fell in love and were living happily ever after.

Not quite.

We hung out, a couple of times. Until it became apparent (which it should have earlier) that he had different ideas about what we were than I did. Which is fine. If it weren’t for the games it took to get to that point. And some other things I won’t add here. And part of it, I will admit, was my own fault, because, silly me, I expected him to want to talk to me and get to know me more than he actually did.

So back to it, right?

Yes, but with stipulations. This next time, no games. And if they say some weird stuff up front, THAT IS A SIGN, LAURA. That meant weeding out guys like the dude who messaged me and asked me to do something I hope no one ever asks me to again because that’s the SECOND time in my life that’s happened and, REALLY?? No thank you.

There is this one though. We’ve texted for a while now. And have attempted to go out three times, two of which were on the days where we got the most snow we’ve gotten in years because OF COURSE WE DID. Thanks, Universe. First time I get a date in a while and you dump a foot of snow on us. Twice. Point taken.

Anyways. So far so good, which means that’s when it gets harder to be cool. And harder to stop worrying so damn much. And harder to stop getting in my own way – second guessing texts or words or as sometimes can happen, lack thereof. I have to remind myself, out loud sometimes, that I am good enough, that I am worth pursuing and being with and stuff like that because this thing that I have – my mind – is doubting me and second guessing me at every turn. By the way, if I don’t remind myself, I have others that are doing it for me, my unofficial life coaches, if you will.

I haven’t had the best luck in relationships. When I got to a point not too long ago where I thought I had, I was wrong, yet again. I guard myself quite fiercely anymore, so when someone gets in, they’re in. Which makes them deciding to leave that much harder.

I’m not punishing people going forward for what others did to me in the past. That’s a new rule. As is the one about being yourself and if they don’t like it they’re not gonna be worth your time anyway.

The fact that I’m writing an entire blog post about it may show I’m thinking about it too much which is breaking the cardinal rule of being cool. But it’s because I want to do things right. I’ve waited a long time for good things in the relationship department, and if I can stay out of my own way, maybe I’ll get them.

Can I blame the weather, partially, for this too? This winter has been miserable, and when you live with already heightened (or lowered, I guess) emotions, it can take even more of a toll. When you only want to stay in bed or on the couch (which is basically your default anyway) because it’s too cold or gross to go out, you have too much time to think. Thus the analyzing and “should I have said this and that” and “I wonder if that was stupid” or dumb things like that.

And then sometimes you drink a 45-ounce margarita and it gets worse.

Long story short – I am trying to be cool. Some days it works better than others. Some days the lies my subconscious tells me are quieter than others.

Dating is hard, kids. Dating in the social media age and when everyone communicates mainly by typed out words is harder. Dating when you have an anxiety issue is hardest.

I refuse to be a hot mess though. And I refuse to rush into anything or settle for the sake of being with someone/anyone.

So. Baby steps. And reminding myself to be cool.


Once upon a time, like in any fairy tale, your heroine had had just about enough of trying to date the regular way. Fresh off the latest situation that had started out great and ended horribly (as they all do in these stories), she decided to try something new, because what the hell.

And by new, I mean free.

I’ve tried online dating a time or two before. And got frustrated. Mainly because I was having to PAY to be frustrated. No thank you.

Then I heard about Tinder. Free, and you only got a message (or the ability to message), if you both clicked that you liked the other person. Perfect, especially since in a fit of loneliness and too much rum I signed up for Plenty of Fish and was immediately sent four messages by two guys in their mid-50s (I do have an age limit) as well as one former magistrate, of a city I used to cover who obviously didn’t remember me and hit on me and he looks like a fat Hitler and I’m pretty sure has a felony record/is on the run from the law.

I made a profile, picked my best pictures (because it’s all about looks here, folks, ultimately and unfortunately). I reminded myself to be open-minded and picky but not PICKY. I tried to come up with the best short description of myself as I could and off we went.

For all its craziness I’ve encountered thus far, I will say Tinder can be awfully good for the self-esteem. Within minutes, guys I’d swiped right (that’s 2014/15 speak for liked/approved of) had apparently done the same for me because I had about 5 matches.

“Oh this’ll be good,” I thought to myself, trying to figure out if I wanted to message any of them first or if I’d wait and for once, not be the one doing any chasing.

Lo and behold, I got one.

Here’s how romantic it was…

Him: “Do you like dragons?”
Me: “Sure, I suppose.”
Him: “Good, because I’ll be dragon these balls across your face later.”

And then we got married and lived happily ever after.


There were the two separate military guys that each wanted me to drive down to meet them at a hotel outside Ft. Knox. We talked some, but nothing ever came of either one.

(New rule after too many long-distance things… wait for the one that wants to come to YOU.)

There was one that was looking for a dominatrix, basically, that I had to pass on as well.

Oh, and the one that after being normal for an hour and a half got my number and asked if I wanted to hook up, THAT NIGHT no less, and unmatched me immediately after on the site when I said that I was fine with just talking for now.

There’ve been a few high points – I’ve texted with a few, some for several weeks. But nothing so far has become anything more than that. But the stories and potential blog material are enough to keep me going.

Like this exchange with one:


Yeah, why is his name like that in my phone? Well, because those are the three words that described him. He shares a Tinder account with two of the other guys who (in their mid-30s) dress like Ghostbusters all the time and often just go out to bars like that.

I’m all for cosplay, first of all, but this was a bit much, when he LITERALLY could not talk about anything else. And if I saw GB (Ghostbusters, duh) one more time I was going to scream. So I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. I gently (which is hard for me, Queen of Bluntness), asked him to tell me some NON-GB stuff about himself.

Outside of the dressing up regularly as a movie character and going to the bars in town I despise, he seemed like a pretty decent guy. I was reaching, I know, but I gave him a chance. EVEN when he said he didn’t wanna have kids, ever, as seen above, which is a huge thing for me (because I want them. Multiple ones).

Obviously, however, as all good love stories do, it ended (for him anyway, it had ended for me a while before) when he randomly texted me two weeks after we hadn’t talked. In the text he told me he was getting back with his ex, because “People keep telling me to.” Well, that’s as good a reason as any, buddy, have a good one. Also please lose my number. And now I can never watch Ghostbusters again.

As I said before, I’ve tried to be open-minded. And I still am..haven’t given up completely. But these guys aren’t making it easy.

I’ve seen FOUR (count ‘em) guys I graduated high school with and three more that I knew in high school but were in grades above or below mine. I’ve seen 2 ex-boyfriends/hookups and four people I am friends with and see regularly or semi-regularly. So there’s that.

And I’ve noticed some trends.

— There are some 13-year-olds posting their age as 27 but then posting their actual pictures and blowing their own cover.
— There are a lot of weird names out there. Or definitely made up. And I don’t think I’ll date a white redneck boy named Trae, sorry. There are names I can’t get past.
— If you have four pics but they’re all the same picture – swipe left (means no for the uninitiated/uninformed).
— If your pic is a close-up of your eye I will think you are a serial killer.
— There are a ridiculous amount of open relationships (alleged, anyway) and couples looking for threesomes. Swipe left.
— I like tattoos, a lot. But if the only one you have is one on your back saying “Powder” and you can’t explain it, that’s a turn off.

So. We’ll see how it goes and what happens next. Will I find love? Stay tuned. For now, I have to go respond to the message I just got saying “What’s the square footage of Amazon?” Because that’s what happens if your bio says you know a lot of mindless trivia.

Wish me luck.

Sorry not sorry

I have thought about getting a heart tattoo…

Maybe it will be on my sleeve.

Well, sleeve area.

If you know me personally, you know that when it comes to emotions, for the most part I am as easy to read as a movie-theater screen (is that a good metaphor? I dunno, but you get the point, right?).

Is that because of my chemical imbalance – the one that means I have anxiety and depression? Or is it in addition to it? Those things heighten all of the emotions, that’s for sure.

My therapist told me recently I protect myself/my emotions..possibly too much. And she’s exactly right. Because, for as long as I can remember I’ve apologized for most of my emotions. I say how I feel then get afraid that it’s out there so I apologize that I even said anything. I apologize because I felt this way or that way.

Do you know how stupid that is?

You probably do. I didn’t..not really anyway. I’m getting there, though.

I have RBF/CBF (it’s a thing, really), so I spend a lot of time telling people I’m fine when I don’t look it. And I’m usually telling the truth.

Sidebar: Read this and this. They’re basically about my daily life.

But sometimes I’m not fine. That’s part of these mental issues that I have that are some day 8 million times harder than others. And I have apologized, many a time, for not being fine.

Again – it’s stupid, but it’s reality. And I’m not alone. A friend posted this video on Facebook, and when I shared it on my wall, I wrote about my own struggles with it in an apologetic tone!


A major thing that’s happened for me in recent years – perhaps since I started therapy or started medication – is I’ve spoken up more about how I felt. You all know – I’ve written a lot about it on this blog. In a couple cases, it’s cost me friendships (which, would we really call them that if they were so easily lost?) but in others its made things stronger.

So yeah, I’ve spoken up more in my relationships (whether they be friendships, family, romantic/potentially romantic). It may not always be in my speaking voice (I tend to write better than I can speak) but it gets said. People know where they stand with me, as they should.

I’m gonna use 30 as an excuse, kind of, but why not? I’m too old for the drama. If I feel some type of way, I’ll tell ya. If I don’t, I’ll tell ya. And it might not always work out that way but I tend to expect that out of others. Problem with me? Tell me. You love me? Tell me. Because if the shoe’s on the other foot, you’re finding out. It’s just easier that way, I think.

And I’m NOT sorry that I feel like that.

Um, whoops…

So I turned 30 and abandoned my blog.

Unintentionally, as usual.

I’ve done this a few times before. And I hate it every time. Every day that goes by that I don’t write, I feel guilty, but obviously not guilty enough to actually write something and post it – which I totally could have because, insomnia. This is one of those posts that you’ll skim through ’cause it’s something new but it’s not as substantial as most of the other stuff. It’s one of those that tells you that I’m alive, I didn’t forget about this place and I have lots to tell you.

At least this time I have more of an excuse. Since I turned 30, a lot has happened.

The abridged version – most of which will be expanded on in individual posts:
– Three weddings
– Three graduations
– Covered the Derby Red Carpet for work and a gala where I met someone super-famous
– Four or five (I lost count) graduation parties
– A bachelorette party and wedding shower
– My depression/anxiety got better..then got kinda crappy again..then got a little better
– I made it through the 8th week of Couch to 5K
– I went to Boston for the last time for a while and to Minnesota for the first time ever (and to Wisconsin where my dad tried to make me visit cheese places even though that would probably send me to the hospital on account of the lactose intolerance.)
– I planned/chaperoned and exhausted myself with a weeklong mission trip/staycation in Louisville that included 15 of our friends from Jamaica from last summer and all of my youth group babies.

Yeah. Consider the fact that I just had to plan out over a month ahead of time when I want to have people over to paint one of the smallest rooms in the place and that tells you how much free time I’ve had lately. That and the fact that me and the bff haven’t seen each other in about 4 weeks and we just scheduled a time to hang out together on Aug. 1. With planners.

Excuses, excuses, I know. But it is painful to not have time to write and get out all that is going through my head every day and I’ve made a promise to myself to make sure to do that from now on. Regardless of if I post it, I will take about 30 minutes every day (which may be at 2 a.m. when I can’t sleep one night) to write something/anything, because it physically makes me feel better, not to mention helps the anxiety level go way down.

Plus, I’m all caught up on Game of Thrones now so I don’t have that distracting me.

So yeah, welcome me back and whatnot..I promise I won’t take 3 months off again – until I get my book deal anyway..

The Tale of Laura and The Ghost Lizard

If you follow me on Twitter at all, you know that I tend to Tweet exponentially more when I can’t sleep, which unfortunately for me but fortunately for y’all has been happening a lot more often lately. Part of it’s some changes in my balance of chemicals but for a while, it was attributed to The Ghost Lizard.

Now. Many of you don’t know the origin of GL. But I’m 90 percent sure he found me in Jamaica and stowed away in my bags and came home with me.

You see, one night while we were there this past summer, we had a lock-in at the church with our friends in Jamaica. And for some strange reason and because Jason wanted sleep, TJ and I were left somewhat in charge for the night, meaning we sat in the room out by the sanctuary and watched a movie on his laptop while taking turns going back and telling the youth to be quiet and go to sleep because we had a bus ride to the beach leaving at 4:30 a.m.

Well. Maybe it’s because the movie was The Woman In Black and therefore made us more aware of ghosts, but we heard a noise at some point we were pretty sure was not a kid, because they’d finally quieted down and (hopefully) gone to sleep. We heard it a couple of times and TJ said it was a lizard, while I said it was a ghost. Ta-da! Ghost Lizard was born – or discovered or whatever.

I thought nothing of it for a few weeks after I came home, but then one night I couldn’t sleep and it sounded like, I kid you not, a small animal was moving through the boxes around my makeshift bedroom in my parents’ basement.

Now, maybe I was just super sleep deprived or crazy, but you all, I was standing on my bed at 3:15 a.m. that first night holding a book in one hand and a pen in the other hand (sufficient weapons, I think) ready to attack if needed. Or to push the boxes and see if the thing made any more noise.

I can’t handle rodents. I really can’t. There was a mouse in the garage once (actually probably several) and I have never gotten in to my car faster than I did that week. I also once screamed at it as I ran “You don’t own me, mouse!”

So that was my first thought as to what might have been crawling around in my room making noise. Ew.

But the next day I looked around and moved some boxes and dug through some stuff and there was no sign of a mouse or anything like it at all – no holes in boxes, no rodent poop, nothing dead.

Next night? Something started moving in the walls.

Few things are as unsettling as being woken up by something skittering within the walls along the pipes and I’m just laying there staring at the ceiling hoping it A.) Shuts up and B.) Doesn’t find it’s way out and attack/eat me.

I hoped it was just there for the night and would find it’s way back outside and I wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.

But then it came back, and all of the sudden I’m googling shit like, “Do squirrels sleep?” and imagining this Ghost Lizard asshole just moving around in there to mess with me. Because it was seriously right behind my head in the wall.

I didn’t even care that the thing was in the wall – I would have supported him moving to another room, where he wasn’t DIRECTLY BY MY FACE when I needed at least 3 hours of consecutive sleep. But nooooooooo, that would be silly.

All of this time, also, I’ll have you know, I’m picturing the damn thing looking like the cockamouse from How I Met Your Mother and OMG I wish I could find a clip from that episode because its one of my favorites and solidified my love for Jason Segel.

So after a few sleepless nights and when attempts to scare the thing to death or at least back out of the house didn’t work (I hit the wall a lot and bruised a couple knuckles. It was like a bar fight only lamer) – I told the Killer of all the Gross Stuff, Dad, to take care of it. So he threw poison in the wall that would make the thing get thirsty and go outside and die, he said.

Fine by me.

Except the POISON DIDN’T WORK. The Ghost Lizard was immune to poison, because, he was already dead. Ghosts can’t be killed. They can only “move on,” which I learned from Casper.

(Speaking of – Devon Sawa is one of my favorite people to follow on Twitter. And he’s still real hot.)

I think it took about a month on and off for whatever it was to finally go away. I don’t know what worked or how, but I like to think that really threatening last punch to the wall I gave (when Dad said, “Stop hitting the wall before you put a hole through it and whatever it is comes out and gets you”) that sealed the deal.

The Ghost Lizard was vanquished (I think) and all is right with the world.

I don’t really care about The Dude

Once upon a time, I tried to watch a movie that seemingly everyone had already seen and said was awesome. And I just so happen to live in a city that celebrates said movie with a huge event. And I didn’t really like it/get what all the fuss was about. I turned it off less than halfway through.

Now don’t judge me, but it’s The Big Lebowski.

I KNOW. Travesty, right?

So I’m going to give it another shot. And stream-of-consciousness-ish/share some of my thoughts for you during. You may remember me doing this with another supposed bit of amazingness that I am not all that in love with.

Here we go.

Is Jeff Bridges narrating the movie about Jeff Bridges in third person?

Should I have gotten high before this?

This one tumbleweed is rolling on to the beach. Is that even possible? I want to see a tumbleweed in real life. I have lofty goals.

Nobody walks around in their robe in Kroger these days. I kind of wish they did.

I never understood why people dunk peoples’ faces in the toilet or pool or whatever and ask them a question. Can’t answer when their face is in the water. And you made him spill his milk.

Toilet dunking guy is Jacob from LOST. Whoa.

I do like John Goodman, and Turturro. And Jeff Bridges. SO in theory, I should ike this movie. But I dunno.

And Phillip Seymour Hoffman, really? Hmm. Why didn’t I like this last time? ‘Cause I wasn’t high?

Steve Buschemi is so unfortunate-looking.

“It really tied the room together.” I know that’s a big important quote if you’re a fan of this movie. Isn’t it?

The Dude has some luxurious hair. I like it.

Is this the old guy from It’s A Wonderful Life?

I think you should drink every time someone says “Dude” or “Man.” Is that a thing with this movie? It should be. I would have just taken 6 drinks in the time it took to type this sentence.

Tara Reid is in this. Seems to be playing herself.

Do people still bowl in leagues?

John Goodman is holding a gun on someone over a bowling score. He would have been tackled and arrested by now if this was now. Or real. He also has a dog there. You can do anything in California apparently in 1990-whatever it was when this was made.

Oh and the White Russians. I don’t wanna mix liquor with milk. Sounds disgusting. I’m lactose intolerant anyway, so… do they make White Russians with soy?

Is this whole movie about a rug? I feel like I would care less about the plot if I was high.

Speaking of, did he just put that entire joint in his mouth?

Uh oh. Tara Reid got kidnapped. Who cares? What’s-his-face from It’s A Wonderful Life does. And PSH. That’s Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Why must people go by three names?

Is this blog about this movie as boring as this movie? You should have gotten high first maybe.

This is the part where I was going to stop it the first time but there’s John Turturro licking a bowling ball and looking crazy and his name is Jesus so I felt like I needed to give it a few more minutes.

I do think it’s hilarious how mean John Goodman is to Steve Buschemi. “Shut the fuck up, Donnie.”

We are 26 minutes in (out of two hours) and if you’re playing the drinking game, you’re long passed out. Man count: 214. Dude count: 910. Has to be.

Is he listening to bowling on tape on a Walkman?

Oh and now he’s flying over the city. Yep. Definitely should be high for this.

And now the rug is gone again. Who cares about rugs this much?

Hey old-timey car phone. So much 90s nostalgia right now.

John Goodman is nuts. What just happened?


This is where I turned it off last time.

Did he bring the whole car phone into the bowling alley? And it still works?

John Goodman doesn’t care about Tara Reid. Neither do I.

First his rug and now his car’s stolen? Dude can’t catch a break.


This movie is weird. So. Weird.

Tara Reid, your acting in this is not as superb as your acting in Sharknado. YES I SAID IT.

This really is just about a damn rug.

Is The Dude wearing Jellies?

Jellies were the Crocs of the 90s.

That’s a finger isn’t it? Oh nope. A toe. Ouch.

“You want a toe? I can get you a toe. I can get you a toe by 3 o’clock this afternoon.” This is the first time I’ve laughed at this movie. I love John Goodman.

So I might have a new fear. Someone dropping a ferret in the bathtub while I’m in it. Showers FTW.

If you ever wanted to see this movie I can give you two words and you’ll know all you need to: Rug. Bowling.

What an impressive mustache!

I’m so confused. And bored.


Lupin is creepy AF.

Every time John Goodman says “Shut the fuck up, Donnie,” finish your drink.

Two beers in 2 minutes. I should be drinking.

Bridges’ hair? Still luxurious. That’s all I got on this movie. Why do people like it so much? Like I wouldn’t watch this again probably ever.

Does everyone have stuff to make a White Russian in their house? He has one wherever he goes. I should go look upstairs and see if we do. But we have almond milk. #healthy

Yeah you definitely have to be somehow intoxicated to watch this. And you’d probably be passed out by now. I would. I almost am.


How this movie script was written: Coen brothers got stoned out of their minds and write down every single thought they had. Only explanation.

I am again not impressed. 36 minutes left. I’m going to try and make it. Just to say I did.

There’s Tara Reid. Not kidnapped. With all her toes. TWIST! But not really.

Aaaaand she wasn’t even kidnapped.

Back to the bowling alley. Anyone surprised? Nope. This movie is NOT GOOD.

This movie has no point. Its official.

There’s a man with a sword. John Goodman just knocked Flea out with a bowling ball and bit a man’s ear off. Crazy sonofabitch.

And now Steve Buschemi’s having a heart attack. I don’t understand.

16 minutes left. I wonder how much of that is credits?

Oh shit Donnie died.

“Let’s go bowling.” Really? REALLY?

The Dude abides. AKA The bumper sticker half the city has.

Well. That’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back.

Don’t watch this movie. Unless you’re blitzed. And even then, I’m sure there’s better use of your time.

Dusting off the cobwebs

So I took a blog sabbatical. It was accidental at first, and then it became intentional.

I have been away from this blog for almost five months. And I’ve missed it, and been yelled at by a couple people for its neglect, but you guys, I needed that time.

I also wanted to wait until I had a big bunch of posts ready, too, because there’s been a few times when I’ve gone away and come back and promised to reward you with a lot of fun stuff to read for sticking around and then…nothing.

Rest assured this is not one of those times. I’m writing this with a BUNCH of other posts already written and ready to go, and scheduled to post in the next few days/weeks.

So. Yay!

I’m not going to tell you ahead of time what they’re about, but remember how I said I needed this time off? It was to do a lot of the stuff you’re about to read about/see pictures of… which brings us to our next announcement.

You might have noticed things look a little different. I changed up the theme to reflect more of what I want this blog to be about – the pictures I have been having so much fun taking and that tell just as good of (if not much better) a story as I can writing about it.

I’ve missed writing – don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have the time to come home and work on all sorts of fun stuff and blog until my little heart is content. But I just couldn’t for a while. For all sorts of reasons.

Now, though, I am back. SWEAR.

For those who came back/never left – thanks. Please enjoy.

For those who yelled at me to post again – I’m not scared of you. But ya go. Stop yelling.

To tide you over… here’s a little peek at some of the stuff you’ve missed, especially if you don’t follow me on all of the social medias (in which case, why the f not?).