Conversations, Dogs, House, Life, Stories

Just Call Me Goldie

I went to bed early last night. I’ve had a long week. But, my other half (Sam) wanted to go out. I gathered up all the dogs, put them in my room, and fell asleep in a pile of medicinal puppies. When I woke up, I was hot, and there were four lumps all rolled up in my covers instead of three. That’s when I realized Sam was in my bed, too. Nori is like the opposite of a Gremlin. She is sweet and loving at night and a complete terror in the morning. She woke me up super early chewing on my hands. So, I walked downstairs leaving the other three in bed. Sam heard me sneak out of the room and stumbled down the stairs behind me. When we reached the last three steps, we noticed things were totally out-of-place. Knowing Sam so well, it truly only took me a moment to retrace her steps the night before.

The front door was wide open. Like totally unlocked and OPEN. There was a full can of beer sitting on the last step. Outside, there was another full can of beer sitting on the porch, along with a broken cigarette. I found a towel strewn across the chair, and several other strange items out-of-place, including a picture that was hung sideways on the wall. She must have come home late last night after a few drinks, and decided to have another beer. She took the beer outside, broke her cigarette, and walked back inside to find another one. I can’t figure out why the towel was thrown over the chair or why the picture frame was turned sideways. But, I assume she forgot her beer was outside, walked into the kitchen, and brought another one to the living room. For whatever reason, she left it on the bottom step, came upstairs (I assume to look for another cigarette in my bag), and thought better of it. So, she climbed into my bed to fall asleep with a pile of medicinal puppies beside me.

When she saw all these things out-of-place, she was like, “What the hell happened?” So, I explained my theory about the night before. To which she replied, “Why would I have thrown a towel over the chair and left beer everywhere? I didn’t do this.” Her theory was, an intruder came into our house, took a shower, took her beer out of the fridge, broke her cigarette, and left the remnants of her break in all over the house. I was like, “Dude, I’m just going to call you Goldilocks from now on.” To which she loudly exclaimed, “DUDE! Can you AT LEAST call me PAPA BEAR!!!???”

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Family, House, Ladies, Life, Love Life

Cousins Seeking Cousins

Personal Ad: See bullets below, along with full description at the bottom.Stoop pic

  • Must be platonic soul mates
  • No Linkin Park, Dave Mathews Band, or Nickelback fans
  • Must love Strangers with Candy, Reno 911, Parks and Rec, and the ID channel
  • Must be willing and able to watch movies involving demonic possession, demonic exorcism, or just demons as a collective.
  • Should not, however, love Satan.
  • We love going to shows, but we love staying home more.
  • Sex? Yes, please! Never together though. We are like sisters. And, no, we don’t share partners.
  • Must enjoy listening to long crazy stories—often involving multiple alter egos.
  • Trump supporters swipe left.
  • Walkie talkies are a preferred method of communication.
  • Patience is essential, along with effective communication skills and a love of dogs.
  • Must be able to handle severe anxiety…from both of us. Even medicated.
  • Must love our cousins and their kids—all 500 of them. (See cousins below)

For further clarification, we have written one another’s personal ad, below:

Kristina:

Tina will match best with a go-with-the-flow kind of lady. Patience is key. She likes funny, confident, smart, affectionate, attractive women. But who doesn’t? If you cannot stand to arrive a few minutes late, this is not the relationship for you. Do you like to spend endless hours laughing on the couch? Well, that’s exactly what you will get. Come over hungry. She’s Greek, so she must feed you! She plays the drums and spent a lot of time touring, so you will be subjected to several band videos. When she has a bad day, she likes to visit the local dog shelter and cover herself in medicinal puppies. If you want to win her heart, tell her that her hair looks amazing and her arm muscles are sexy. Tina is my person, my best friend, and closest confidante. She is the Dorothy to my Sophia. We are super close, so you must be confident enough that you aren’t threatened by our relationship. Insecure women need not apply.

Sam:

Sam’s perfect match will understand and embrace her love of all things Harry Potter. If you haven’t watched all eight movies, she will be thrilled to have a movie marathon. She likes other kinds of marathons, too. But, not the running kind—if you catch my drift. Although, she is open to new experiences. The right woman should be fully prepared to dance in the front row when Sam’s band plays a live show. If you have poor taste in music, she will help refine it. But, don’t ever try to take control of the radio. The right woman should consider buying me a nice gift; nothing fancy, just something to show her how much you like me. Never ever ask her to do the Carlton. I can ask her to do it; you cannot. Come prepared with innovative theories about Game of Thrones. Having read the books is a major plus. Strong women with a feminine exterior are essential—rouge and lipstick will totally do the trick. If you want her sexy summer fade between your legs, compliment her hair often. Please hurry, I’m pretty sure she stole my soul, and I really want it back.

Stella-and-Dorothy-High-Five-in-The-Golden-Girls
“So…what did you text her back? DUDE, NO WAY! That’s fucking awesome”
House, Letters, Life, Stories

Dear Robbers

Dear Robbers,

This may come as a surprise to you, but I am not accustomed to being robbed. So, you can imagine my chagrin when I found loose change, water bottles, and dog bones strewn about my car. I can only imagine your chagrin when that’s all you found in my glove box. But, then, I remembered how stupid I am.

I don’t have to tell you what you found in the trunk of the car, because you already know. The book bag you stole was a gift from my mother, and all the documents in it…that was my whole life. The wedding ring? The last thing I had of my marriage.

I was devastated. I called the police, cancelled my passport…and had a nervous breakdown. Thanks for that. But, as the day went on, I realized something. Even through my frustration and panic, I went down the list of things I had to do to get a new birth certificate, social security card, passport, check book…and I made every phone call that morning while waiting for the police to arrive. I realized that even you cannot bring me down. You had me fooled for a minute there. I thought God must be angry with me. And, then this beautiful thing happened:

Sam brought my computer home so we could finish our work remotely. About halfway through the day, she received an email from a co-worker that said one of our engineers was looking for her. It’s a big company with hundreds of engineers, so neither of us recognized his name. She messaged him, and he asked if she is my cousin. Then he told her what you did.

Thank you for deciding you don’t actually want my identity and throwing my backpack over the fence into HIS YARD. Of all the random fences on all the random yards, you chose to toss it into his. He recognized my name because I happened to write a blog that morning for the engineers outlining tips on technical writing. Engineers remember everything. When he returned my book bag, the only thing that was missing was my ring.

After that, I realized that God does not hate me. God wants me to be happy. I don’t need that ring to be happy. I am already happy. As much as I appreciate this recent enlightenment, I want you to know that robbing cars is really pretty fucked up. If you knew me at all, you would know that I would have just given you drug money. Because in the words of the great Katt Williams, “Who the fuck do you think I’m fixing to judge?” Nobody.

Sincerely,

Kristina

Conversations, House, Life

Reunited And It Feels So Good

Things I will have to get used to when living with Tina again:

1.) Wearing safety goggles to mask the thick layer of hairspray from my eyes.

2.) Tina’s constant wardrobe changes:

“Sam do you like this one better or this one?”

“Tina they’re the exact same color.”

“Perhaps to the untrained eye! Look a little closer–one is blue/green and the other is green/blue.”

“Damnit Tina we’re just going to bed.”

3.) Having to map out our house before every party so Tina can decide where everyone is going to sleep.

4.) Putting a protective layer over all electronic equipment. I already know my laptop will end up covered in miso soup.

5.) Having to wake up in the middle of the night because Tina decided it was the perfect time to paint a mural on MY WALL.

“Sam, is this light bothering you? Oh sorry I dripped paint on your hair.”

“Tina are you painting the ceiling?”

“Oh yea I thought I would replicate the Sistine Chapel for you. Like Leonardo.”

“Tina….Wrong ninja turtle.”

6.) Having to convince Tina there are no demons living in our house. But to be fair, she has to convince me the government isn’t spying on us with satellites, either.

7.) Regular sobbing sessions over anything and everything that reminds us of our Mom-mom.

8.) Having to use Lush toothy tabs that taste like absolute shit because she insists the other stuff will rot my teeth. Thanks, Lindsey.

9.) Talking Tina off the ledge once she’s found the cutest most abused animal in the whole wide world and wants to bring it in the house.

“No I will not play radio roulette with you. We all know how that shit ends. And, I can hear the baby bat flapping around inside your bedroom. I left you a list of bat sanctuaries. Guess you’ll be late for work today.”

10.) Living with someone who can talk me into virtually anything-regardless of my self-respect and well-being. But, hey it’s worth making your best friend smile.

Conversations, House, Life

Well, That Was Easy

It’s never difficult to talk her into my big ideas…

Me: Did you hear about the missile North Korea launched over Japan?

Sam: No.

Me: Well they did. Trump is going to get us killed.

Sam: Good. Maybe we won’t have to move, then.

Me: I would be Ok with the end of the world. I wouldn’t mind living off the land like in the Walking  Dead.

Sam: Do I get a sword?

Me: Yea.

Sam: Dude, I’m in.

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Does an axe work?
Dogs, House, Life, Stories

Playing House

Growing up, Sam and I spent a lot of time together. We have known each other for 32 years, and I held her the day she was born. I’m pretty sure that makes me her favorite person, but she won’t ever tell you that. We have always had a lot in common, and sometimes I think we share a brain. Over the past two decades, we have lived together multiple times. This is one of those times.

It’s been overwhelming AF to get everything moved from one state to another, even if that state is only an hour away. We are in the middle of some weird shit, but we are navigating it together. Sami brings sunshine and rainbows in the middle of the darkest storm. But, that could just be her sexy summer fade. She loves the ladies, and when she plays it right, it’s like summer-fucking-time all year round in this bitch. This bitch being our new dwelling.

Together, we have rescued many dogs. We will have three living with us in our new habitat, including one genius Border Collie, one grumpy-muggle puppy, and one blind/deaf double-merle Australian Shepherd.

We are obsessed with Sam’s nephew, Half-Lit, and we both spend a lot of time kissing his head.

I don’t know what else I can really tell you about the two of us, other than that we plan to rule as two Kings over our dominion, which will eventually include the world. We are both queer as folk, but she’s better with the terminology. I’m not sure how often Sam will help me post on this blog, considering she can’t swipe left when she’s not in the mood. But, I will do my best to showcase my best friend and platonic soul mate. If not for me, for the good of the land. Because, we like to keep it pushing ’round here. Our goal is to redefine ourselves, as individuals and friends–not to start over, but to move forward with as much class among the chaos as possible. And, by classy I mean trashy AF.