You can still keep things ultra spicy even if you have a geriatric stove that no longer has legible temperature control units because:
1: my cooking style is analogous to my romance style: INTUITIVE & RECKLESS
2: The only temperature setting in the Deckard kitchen is 🔥🔥🔥
Please check the comments if you don’t care for dangerous dinners & prefer your mysteries solved.🔎🍛
Fell asleep to a news report about the increased rates of dogs being prescribed antidepressants and woke up a couple hours later panicking about the state of Oliver’s interior life. Wondering how long it will take for hyperactive dogs to be prescribed Adderal and how much longer until they’re selling it to their friends.
I’m wondering if there is some sort of event for those experiencing the rite of passage that is first ever grad school application rejections. A blood letting ceremony? TheGradCafe.com forum doesn’t say anything about it.
Immediately after, this consolation prize came in the mail:
A prize wherein the ghost of James Gandolfini appears with a pan of baked ziti and tells you that you’re a moron.
Lots of ghost talk lately. I’m a very haunted lady. I hope my grad school rejection and desire for a ghost butler/friend doesn’t make me emotionally damaged. I guess we’ll find out later*. Stay tuned to find out the fate of my emotional condition.
* I still have 2 months to receive rejections from six more schools. Maybe I shouldn’t apply to programs that literally only accept 4 people; I’m too delicate for this shit.
A light bulb exploded in my bathroom this evening and for a minute I worried about the possibility of a poltergeist.
I keep thinking about the possibility of living in another city and how I should probably buy a knife.
A couple weeks ago I was talking with Scott about how nice it would be to have a nice ghost living in my apartment–someone pearlescent & prescient that would sit down at my kitchen table and have a cup of coffee with me and talk about my day or offer me advice as I think people existing in another realm may have better insight.
Now that I type this, I’m wondering if I’m desiring a watered down version of the movie Ghost or why I’d even want this as I usually hate talking about my day. Maybe I’m just searching for a repository* to store my most maligned thoughts and concerns because who the fuck is a ghost going to tell & they can’t possibly judge me for anything because they’re dead and obviously did something wrong to end up that way.
*other things that can fulfill this need: a laundry hamper, a bureau drawer, a coffin, a shadow box, and even the nebulous space of this WordPress page.
Stopped by here for the first time in a long time. According to my stats, I’m still getting visitors regularly because some of you maybe miss me or hate me enough.
Should I start blogging again in 2016?