Tag Archives: writing

MAKE AN ERICA GREAT AGAIN

ericakane

The original Erica

Election Day, 2016: How My Mind Works

OH MY GOD, IT’S BEAUTIFUL OUT TODAY – IT’S A SIGN!

Wait, it could just be a weather ruse to lull me into thinking it’s a positive sign when really, it’s going to be bad and then I’ll feel doubly betrayed by both America and the sun.

I don’t think the sun has the ability to create a ruse. The sun just does its thing.

If the weather goes south, that could *also* be a ruse – lulling me in the opposite direction and thinking The Cheeto will win. Poor Cheetos. I wonder if they will ever bounce back from this election.

Maybe I should wear a pantsuit today. NO. That’s weird. Also you don’t own a pantsuit.

I can’t believe our long-lost friend finally popped back up on Facebook. I wonder who she’s voting for. I wonder if we’ll see each other again. I’d put my money on no, if I had any money.

I can’t stop putting this Kickstarter hot sauce on Ruffles potato chips. It’s 9:30AM. Maybe I should add it to some eggs instead of this bullshit frat boy breakfast.

The house is a mess and the baby comes today. Maybe if I clean the house real good, “politics” will be nice to me.

How can I even make eggs with a kitchen this messy? It’s impossible.

Is a matching sweatsuit close enough to wearing a pantsuit for solidarity? Not that I have one of those, either.

CHOCOLATE CAKE FOR BREAKFAST. YES.

I hope, if I have any friends or family that voted for Donald Trump, that they never, ever tell me. It would probably break my heart into a million angry pieces.

Normally I don’t like hot sauce but this shit is good.

I should make the fam go for a walk today. Put our faces in the sun. Put on pants that aren’t pajamas, if I can even find some.

Can’t believe how mean I was to [redacted] in my dream last night. I almost feel like I should send her an apology text, but then I’d have to explain what for.

Craving the New Luck Toy dumplings something fierce.

Must find a bar stool to sit on tonight, but close to home so if the polls take a shit, I can cry in my own bed with an extra-cheese pizza.

Keep it together.

Keep it together.

We’re out of potato chips.

 

 

 

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Hen Party Pooper

bachelorette

Something I learned about myself in the last few years: I’m terrible at bachelorette parties.

I’m too self-conscious, too uptight, and maybe too old (which, incidentally, is the working title of my future autobiography). As a reluctant team player, the girly wolf pack mentality kind of freaks me out, and the “traditional” aspect of bachelorette parties – strippers, tiaras, penis-shaped everything – really makes me cringe. Even when I was The Appropriate Age Range for a hen party (completely made-up by me, somewhere between 21 and 28), I was mortified for the bride as some guy named Randy Andy thrust a satin-clad dong at her face, over and over. Surely this is why Long Island Iced Teas were invented.

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Job Opening: Battle Guitarist

doofwarrior

Former Employee of The Month

JOB TITLE: Battle Guitarist – CS-0303-11
AGENCY: Interior, Bureau of Citadel Affairs
SALARY RANGE: $38,896 to $42,965 Per Year
POSITION INFORMATION: Full Time – Permanent
DUTY LOCATION: 1 vacancy in the following location: Desert Wasteland, Australia
SECURITY CLEARANCE: Public Trust – Background Check
SUPERVISORY STATUS: No

JOB SUMMARY:

The Bureau of Citadel Affairs is the lead agency in Australia for managing relationships with post-apocalyptic allies and enemies throughout the region. A challenging and dynamic place to work, it enhances community engagement and quality of life for a lucky chosen few, and carries out the responsibility to protect and improve the trust assets of the Citadel.

TRAVEL REQUIRED

  • Yes

SUMMARY OF DUTIES:

  • Represent the Citadel as lead guitarist for all official state trips and battles.
  • Coordinates team meetings, schedule, setlist, and logistics with traveling Battle Drum Corps.
  • Assist Regional Director on assigned matters as an authoritative representative of community outreach.
  • Motivates warriors and warlords in-transit through all fields of battle in diverse and challenging environments.

QUALIFICATIONS REQUIRED:

  • Advanced double-neck guitar skills with emphasis on shredding, dischord, and sludge metal riffs.
  • Advanced stunt work certification with experience in high-speed desert car chases and vehicular acrobatics.
  • Specialized hands-on experience with military-grade flamethrowers.
  • Weather resistant.

SPECIAL REQUIREMENTS:

Official battle guitarist uniform: A red onesie and head-covering mask made from your dead mother’s face.

You will be evaluated on the basis of your level of competency in the following areas:

  • Ability to successfully narrate and convey the mood and pace of battle to all participants.
  • Ability to work, play, communicate, and sleep while attached to harness-bungee suspension system.
  • Ability to withstand 150 decibels for days and weeks at a time.
  • Stage presence, including but not limited to: make-up, costuming, attitude, energy, and audience participation.
  • War Boys Department evaluation.
  • Guitar modifications.
  • Time management.

The Bureau of Citadel Affairs provides reasonable accommodations to applicants with disabilities. If you need a reasonable accommodation for any part of the application and hiring process, please notify the Citadel civilian personnel unit.

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When God Sends You A Greek Opportunity

pandorabox

Remember the Christian mom everyone hated because she wrote that well-meaning, completely tone-deaf, racist-sounding (or just plain racist) guide to accepting a *gasp* black son-in-law? aka When God Sends Your White Daughter A Black Husband aka When God Answers Your Prayers But Ignores Important Deets aka When God Fucks Up & Sends Your Fam Some Real Life Shit To Pray About? Yeah, that’s the one.

Everyone had an opinion on it, even Yours Truly. I came around pretty quick to see – or at least fervently hope – that the author was coming from a good place, even if that place was 1954. The Washington Post wrote about it, NY Daily News, Patheos, HuffPo, every blog that’s ever uttered the word ‘Christ’ or used Papyrus font on their website, and one of my favorite bespectacled cats masquerading as a human, The Everywhereist (who described me as “subject of [a] future article called When God Sends You a Girlfriend Who Will Fuck Shit Up When Shit Needs Fucking Up,” worthy praise that I’ve since added to my bio and résumé).

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DoYoReHoBloMo: As You Do

adderall

It’s that time of year again: NaNoWriMo, or, as some basic bitches call it, National Novel Writing Month. I know a ton of people who do this every year to varying degrees of success. Some actually write a 50,000 word novel, many use it as a writing exercise to get something started (or finish a something that started the year before). Like others strewn across the NaNoWriMo battlefield, I’ve only made it to the second week before remembering I had other things to do, like

-Make a sandwich

-Eat a sandwich

-Watch 400 hours of The West Wing

-Edit a paper I wrote in high school

-Organize my self-help books about organization

-Start a fight with my husband about his priorities

-Try a new lip color

-Complain about how hard it is to find time to write

-Gain some weight

-Take up knitting (again)

-Vacuum the house

-Fix my whole life

THIS YEAR, I am not signing up to fail that writing marathon, but I did tell the nerd at Nerd’s Eye View that it was my Do You Remember How To Blog Month (because I’d like to be posting more). She aptly named it DoYoReHoBloMo, so with great determination and possibly some Adderall, I will attempt to blog on the reg – and by that, I mean let’s see how I do this week. I haven’t seen The West Wing in a while, so.

Hold on while I make a sandwich.

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