Tag Archives: humor

List: Results From Googling “Mercury Retrograde 2019” (Real and Imagined)

mercuryretrograde

 

Results From Googling “Mercury Retrograde 2019” (Real and Imagined):

Don’t Panic! Your Mercury in Retrograde GOOP Survival Guide is Here

How Will Mercury Retrograde Affect Your Body? 

So You’ve Got A Case of The Mercury Retrograde Mondays

Mercury Retrograde is Resurfacing All Your Unresolved Issues

10 Fun Things To Do In Arizona During Mercury Retrograde

Tips For An Out-of-This-World Mercury Retrograde Birthday Party!

Mercury Retrograde: Here’s When You Can Expect Sh*t To Hit The Fan

Hooking Up With An Ex During Mercury Retrograde: Ignoring The Signs

Four Predictions On How Mercury Retrograde Will Mess With Cancers

Microdosing During Mercury Retrograde: The Ultimate To-Do List

All The Beauty Products You Need To Survive Mercury Retrograde

For Sale on Etsy: Unisex Mercury Retrograde Boho Festival Glitter Fringe Cape 

When Does Mercury Retrograde 2019 End? Because This Is Too Much

 

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Real: 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13

 

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The Adults In The Room

mrmessy

Mr. Messy

When I was little, I used to watch my mom or dad after dinner, doing adult stuff in the abstract. Mostly tidying up in that tired way adults do when the consequences of not tidying up will catch up to them later. Wiping down counters, straightening magazine piles, folding laundry, getting papers ready for the next day, taking the garbage bins out, checking homework, sorting through mail, feeding the cats. Every evening, someone called on the phone, but it was before Caller I.D., so it was like being surprised by friends or family on the regular, and not like now, where I see someone call and wonder in anguish butwhy. Sometimes, the phone was handed to me and I answered aunt and uncle questions or told stories to curious grandparents.

As I got older and watched this nighttime ritual of the North American adult, I realized there was a rhyme and reason to the seemingly random clean-up. Garbage was dealt with, leftovers packaged, outfits picked for school and work, slight order restored to a house that exploded every 24 hours with life and human progress. Neither of my parents seemed to enjoy doing these menial daily tasks, but when they were done, one or both of them would turn off the kitchen lights and sink into the couch with a satisfied, weary sigh. I would come to know this as The Ceremonial Sigh of Adulting, where your next move is something you actually want to do: read a book, watch TV, talk to a friend on the phone while matching sock mates, have that much-deserved glass of wine before bed. The sigh signaled a surrendering to what would surely be another night without enough sleep, a tiny white flag waving in the flickering light of our television. Then my parents got up the next day and did it again, and again, and again. The same determined, tired tidying up, every night after dinner; the same sigh of release and ready-preparedness for the days to come.

It was all so goddamn boring.

When I was still a single digit, and filled with BIG IDEAS, I decided my parents were foolish to waste all their time on these menial tasks. Clearly they were doing something wrong if they were stuck in this Groundhog’s Day-like nightmare where your life is just doing chores. I decided I would skip doing all that crap and congratulated myself for coming up with a better solution to living life than my mother. Why didn’t my parents just eat McDonald’s for dinner every night and then do whatever the fuck they wanted? They were ungrateful adults who’d traded what power and freedom they had for nighttime vacuuming. I WOULD NOT BE LIKE THEM, I WOULD ENJOY MY FREEDOMS AND NEVER TAKE THEM FOR GRANTED.

Can you imagine? The fucking audacity of children. So new and dumb and precious and totally unqualified for personhood. Somehow, I knew how to do life better than my 39-year old parents after nine long years on this planet — and absolutely thought I had my shit together when I couldn’t do long division or eat soft cheese. Now I’m older than they were when I decided to do things differently, and even though I don’t clean the house every night, I always wish I had. It sucked when I finally got it, finally understood, and could see – stretching out a thousand miles in front of me – all the tidying up and sighing I would do in the months and years to come.

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The Roaring Twenties

girls-season-5-hbo

When I was nine, I couldn’t wait to be in my twenties and all the question marks that entailed. At that point, most of my ideas around being an adult came from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Adventures in Babysitting. People did real-life things in their twenties, like had boyfriends and jobs and cars and stayed up way past 8pm. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, but I knew I wanted to get there fast. Freedom of choice, late nights, making memories, finding trouble; I couldn’t wait for the future adventures of awesome adult me.

In my thirties, I referenced my twenties like they lived next door. I’d start a story with “A few years’ back…” and later realize it had been ten. I had my first real ma’am in my thirties, where a pimply-faced worker bee scanned my face for way too long before deciding I was old enough to be ma’am-ed. I considered slashing his tires to prove how young and dumb I was, but I wasn’t that young and dumb, so I didn’t. I worried about 40 for the first time and I guess being somebody in what was now a shrinking time frame. Girls at parties said, “Oh my god, I didn’t know you were [whatever age], I thought you were [a much younger age]!” It flattered and annoyed me, these plucky young women who thought 38 was ancient and 25 was some kind of prize. I wouldn’t do 25 again, not for a lifetime supply of cheese. Was age even really that important?

In my forties, I started wondering out loud if age was really that important, and was met with mostly silence and eyerolls. I talked about my twenties with part-awe (how am I still alive after so many bad choices?? oh, me!) and part-wistfulness (remember when I could wear heels?) for all the things I thought would happen but never actually did. No older French lovers, no artist retreats, no picking up at a moment’s notice to travel the world and have adventures or explore the countryside, wherever that was. I never did – not once –  ayahuasca in the jungle with Tom Robbins or some other literary giant. None of these things happened because 1) I’m not a blond chick in a movie and 2) I was too busy barely surviving. I was broke and also broken, or at least in the process of breaking, and not for the first time. I bumbled my way through that decade, making lovely people cringe and simple things harder, never knowing what direction to go in. So far, this is what I remember most about my twenties.

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GoT Recap, Episode One: Winter AF

nightking

Just chillin’

For the “last” season of Game of Thrones, I’ll be doing a recap of each episode because this is America and I do what I want, at least until it turns into The Handmaid’s Tale and I become a professional birthing mule. Spoilers ahead!

We begin with revenge-genocide at the hands of a child, and here is why I love this show. Arya the Many-Faced Homicidal Tween exacts her genocidal revenge on the Walder Frey clan with poison, in disguise, in the same hall where her family was ambushed and killed. RED WEDDING REVENGE FTW. Every time she pulls a mask off her face, I think “Are we really falling for this idea that Arya is a skilled death mask magician who has the time, resources, and energy to create these masterpieces on the fly??” I can’t speak for anyone else, but a resounding yes is my answer. I want to believe.

Whenever Arya pulls her mask off, my Game of Thrones amnesia kicks in because I always shriek like these are new to me, when really she spent an entire season in that creepy death palace with Killer Bitch and Hipster Jesus.

“When people ask you what happened here, tell them the North remembers. Tell them winter came for House Frey.”

When Arya dropped that medieval mic, I heard it hit the ground the world over. YAAAAAAS BIIIIIITCH, y’all were screaming; I heard you, don’t deny it. Everyone loves an underdog. Everyone loves a Stark. Everyone loves a strong girl #LivingHerBestLife in this unforgiving landscape.

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What Is The Evergrey?

grayscale

It’s not this.

-Seattle singles meetup for people over 60

-University of Washington meteorology-psychology blog about weather and depression

-Craft cocktail bar located in the heart of Georgetown and sister to Pioneer Square’s ‘Damn the Weather’

-Seattle’s first built-green community and bold new approach to apartment micro-living in partnership with Amazon’s real estate arm, Amazoned

-Seattle’s on-the-rise gothic metal band singing everyone’s favorite hits from the Nineties and beyond

-A new CW series following the Tech Rich Kids of Instagram — featuring the extravagant lifestyles of the Evergrey twins, who will stop at nothing in their rise to the top

-Favorite ice cream flavor of The Queen of England: two-parts Earl Grey tea, one-part orange blossom, one-part vanilla bean

-Subreddit group dedicated to The Nothing in a Netflix original documentary about fanatics of The Neverending Story

-Popular Instagram account for people rocking grey hair at any age

-A fictional disease on Game of Thrones

-A comprehensive daily Seattle newsletter written by two kickass women about staying connected to a city that’s currently on steroids

If you guessed the last one, you’re correct; if you guessed any of the others, how will you look at yourself in the mirror from this day forward?

To anyone coming from The Evergrey today, or perhaps my Facebook announcement, I shout hello through this series of complicated tubes *shakes fist at Al Gore* and look forward to shouting in person.

I’m excited to be facilitating The Everygrey’s newly-announced writing group, beginning January 2017. The application deadline is December 31, 2016 — my wedding anniversary, in fact, where we will be out and about having legendary adventures in every corner of Seattle*.

*or: pizza, pajamas, a Westworld marathon, sawing logs the size of Ents before midnight

For those who came here wondering what my deal is before applying, take the leap! What do you have to lose besides four limbs, a car, and part of your Roth IRA? At the very least, connections will be made and you’ll get some time to workshop your writing. At best, we’ll create a nude writing group calendar for charity and Ellen will invite us on her show and we’ll get famous for like four minutes and then you know she’ll give someone a car (pleasebeme). Ellen’s always trying to out-Oprah herself. I’d like to be there when she finally succeeds.

My leadership qualifications include: I read the first two chapters of Infinite Jest and know all the words to Beyonce’s ‘Lemonade’. A strong voice. An open mind. Dated a guy who ran for high school president and won.

As for the structure of our writing group, I’m thinking something like The Voice in that it’s exactly like The Voice. Adam Levine, Christina Aguilera, Country Guy, and I will sit in our rotating plastic Tron chairs and judge you. Finally, a job that plays to my strengths.

I look forward to working with a great group of people, whatever circus parade we decide on! Let’s stay in touch like we met five weeks ago at miniature horse camp:

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