Interesting Answers for Boring Questions Tuesday, Dec 12 2017 

People ask me the following questions fairly often, and I can only guess it’s because they expect a thrilling response. However, life ain’t always that interesting. It’s a shame I get these questions so much, because I have PLENTY of good ass stories, like the time I accidentally pepper sprayed myself, or how I had the worst 15th birthday celebration ever.

But I am doomed to only answer the banal queries below:

1. “Why’d you become a vegetarian?”

What people are expecting: “I SAW A COW DIE RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME AND WITH ITS LAST BREATH, IT BEGGED ME TO NEVER EAT MEAT AGAIN!” -rolls up sleeve to show PETA tattoo-

The real deal: I was 9 when I become a vegetarian, so, to be perfectly honest, I can barely remember why I became a vegetarian!

I know I first became really aware of what vegetarianism is that year, and the horror show of where our meat comes from. But I’ve been a vegetarian for so long now that I don’t even care anymore. I probably think about it as often as omnivores sit down and reflect on the fact that they eat meat. (Rarely).

So while I enjoy vegetarianism, and think it would be nice if there were more of us, I don’t really have a manifesto about it at the ready.

2. “How’d you know you were bisexual?”

What people are expecting: “I rolled up to an orgy expecting to only touch the penises but then I ended up touching a lot of vaginas too and it was pretty cool!”

The real deal: I think when people ask this question they are expecting a salacious story or a romantic one, but sadly for them, I have always known, ever since I was an itty bitty Chef, that my attraction to people doesn’t have much to do with their gender.

I always saw cute guys and ladies and was like “wow congrats on bein FINE.” Since itty bitty Chef didn’t know what the hell a bisexual was, (or a homosexual, for that matter), itty bitty Chef thought everyone was attracted to everyone, but you kept same sex attraction to yourself and only acted on opposite sex attraction.

Thankfully, Chef eventually got bigger and learned THAT’S BULLSHIT. Now Chef does what Chef wants.

3. “What’s your tattoo (of a key) mean?”

What people are expecting: “My dad was murdered by a key. The number of dots represent the age my dad was when he died and the black ink represents my soul dying too.”

The real deal: Well first off, my dad, thankfully, is alive and well.

I got my tattoo on my 22nd Birthday, which landed on Friday the 13th that year. (Hello tattoo deals!) I took a fun trip to Brooklyn to pick out a design from the multitude of pre-approved flash sheets with my friend Zdja, (who even paid for my tattoo as a birthday gift!)

So as much as I like to tell people it’s the “key to their heart,” (and die laughing at their reaction to such cheesy words), I just like the way my tattoo looks, and it reminds me of a rad day. It was also a decent way to get a feel for the process, (because I definitely want more!)

Writing My Ass Off – February Saturday, Feb 25 2017 

Since February’s Writing Contest was less about writing and more about conceptualizing, I’ll share this piece I wrote for a contest last year, and got an honorable mention for. 

The prompt was that the main character should be drinking and having flashbacks to something they don’t want to think about. 


Something that’ll burn on the way down, I thought, but didn’t say, as I hesitated over the bartender’s question. “Can I get a shot of tequila?”

The stocky bartender nodded and turned to the wall of bottles behind him, shot glass in hand. I settled back on the bar stool and laid my hands out in front of me, watching as they trembled. It was a little before 11 PM, and the hotel bar was empty save for a couple at the other end. The pair, perhaps a wife and husband, were completely focused on each other, talking quietly about something that looked like it must have been very funny.

The bartender’s return brought my attention upward, and I retrieved my wallet and paid. The shot glass was practically full to the brim, and I brought it to my lips slowly, not wanting to spill a drop. As I hoped, it did burn as I knocked it back, and I shut my eyes for a moment, wincing at the harsh taste. There was a strange noise behind me, like–

— like a skull giving way; Moore’s head collapsing in on itself…
I shut my eyes for a moment and tried to push the image from my mind. I wasn’t here to think about that. The shot glass was loose in my fingers, and I set it down on the bar before I could drop it.

I turned my gaze to a man who hadn’t been there the moment before, and realized the noise I heard must’ve been the door opening behind me. The man wore a rumpled business suit, dark in color.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender asked the new arrival, who, to my displeasure, took the seat next to mine.

“Hm,” the blond tapped his fingers against the bar, as if deep in thought. “What are you drinking?” He asked, turning to face me.

I stiffened in my chair. “Tequila,” I replied, after what felt like a slightly too long pause.

The man smiled. “Perfect, can I get the same?” He looked to me again once the bartender walked away. “I’m Tiernan.” He held his hand out.

I pressed my hand into his. “Cecily.” I hoped he would leave the conversation at that, but I doubted it. I must’ve looked like an easy target; a woman alone at the bar.

“A pleasure.” Tiernan waited for his order, paying when it came. I watched as he downed his shot, slamming the glass down hard on the table. “Want another?” He asked me.

“Sure,” I replied. As much as I had been hoping to drink all by my lonesome, I wouldn’t say no to a freebie.  

A couple minutes later, the two shots were in our hands. “To your health,” Tiernan murmured as I clanked my glass against his. This shot burned a little less. Tiernan wavered a bit in his seat, his ever present smile growing wider. “You here alone?”

I nodded, thinking that if I had met Tiernan just a few days before, the answer would have been, ‘no.’ But you’re alone now, I reminded myself. You made sure of that.

A melancholy expression must’ve crossed my face, because Tiernan rapped his fingers on the bar and leaned in close. “You certainly don’t have to stay alone, Cecily,” he assured me genially. “There’s not a lot to hold a person’s interest in here… Not even a casino,” Tiernan noted, nudging at his empty glass with two fingers. “Have you seen it yet?” He asked, after a short pause.

He didn’t have to elaborate on what ‘it,’ was. The only thing of interest for miles was the Grand Canyon– the only reason anyone came to this hotel. They didn’t come for the heat, the dirt, or the sun, I’m sure. Just the huge, jagged tear in the earth.

“Not yet,” I admitted, hailing the bartender for a glass of water. I was starting to feel a little woozy.

Tiernan put his hand up as well. “Me too!”

I sipped gingerly on the water and tried to will my head to clear up. “Have you seen it yet?” I echoed back at Tiernan.

“Yeah,” He replied, his voice tinted with awe. We made eye contact and he held my gaze as he continued, “It’s amazing. I didn’t think I would care, you know? It’s just a big hole in the ground.” He lowered his glass without taking his eyes off me. “But Cecily, it’s fucking beautiful. Everyone should make a point to see it before they die.”

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears as flashes of red flooded my vision. It was seeping in under the door, leaking from the collar of Tiernan’s shirt, pooling on top of the bar. There was blood everywhere. Tiernan seemed to not have noticed, and the bartender and couple across from us had no reaction either.

I took a deep breath. “Wow,” I said, my voice cracking somewhat. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, things appeared to be back to normal. No more blood. Not even a drop. I plastered a blank expression to my face, resisting the urge to scream, or to grab Tiernan, to bash his face in…

I inhaled deeply again. Alcohol had been a bad idea. I had meant to numb myself a bit, not lose control. Maybe now was a good time to return to my room, before I did something drastic. I glanced over at my companion, who had grown quiet, turning his gaze to his cell phone. He didn’t resemble Moore much, besides the fact that they were both men. Tiernan’s hair was a dirty blonde, lighter than Moore’s brown. Even their build was different; Moore had been much slighter than Tiernan. The largest discrepancy, the one that made my stomach churn, was that Moore was dead, head smashed, blood soaking a permanent stain into the cheap beige carpet, while Tiernan sat next to me, very much alive.

I closed my eyes again and the vivid image of Moore’s corpse faded just a little. I downed the rest of my water and began to gather my things, which caught Tiernan’s attention. “Going so soon?”

I smiled. “I’m a little tired.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Tiernan replied, standing as well. “Way you were drinking…”

“It always puts me out,” I said agreeably, even though he was starting to annoy me. I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, I reminded myself. Just a quick drink.

“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t offer to walk the lady to her room.”

I just looked at him, thinking of a quote I had heard before, but couldn’t quite remember. Something about yielding to temptation. I wasn’t sure if it was good advice, but I certainly wanted to.

“If you insist,” I finally said, turning to head out of the bar and up the stairs. There were two sets, a grand set of stairs in the lobby that curved up to the second floor, and a second set of dog-leg staircases that led all the way to the roof. My room was on the fourth floor. I could use the walk; hopefully it’d have a sobering effect.

I pulled open the heavy door to the stairwell, Tiernan shuffling in behind me. The fluorescent lighting stung my eyes; the bar had been much more dimly lit.

“What floor are you on?” Tiernan asked, as I began the trek up the first half-flight of stairs. “I hope the second.”

“Fourth,” I responded, waiting for him politely on the landing.

“Don’t tell me you’re a health freak,” Tiernan said, still making no movement to begin climbing the stairs. “Like you’ve come to hike the entire canyon.”

I laughed for the first time that night, something I didn’t expect. “No.”

Tiernan nodded. “Alright,” he replied, gamely following in my footsteps.

“What’s your floor?” I asked him, mostly just to fill the eerie silence of the stairwell.

“Eleventh,” Tiernan answered. “You won’t catch me walking all the way up there.”

I laughed again and paused at the second floor landing, waiting for Tiernan, who was shuffling up at a much slower pace. It occurred to me, watching him stumble up the stairs, that he might have started drinking before he even got to the bar.

Upon joining me on the second floor landing, Tiernan held up a hand to stop me from continuing. I hesitated and watched as he reached into his jacket, unearthing a flask. “I’m a little thirsty,” he said with a smirk, tilting it towards me. “What about you, Cecily?”
A small, very far away voice tried to remind me that I’d drank enough that night. But I took the flask from his hands anyway, downing a long swig of whatever was inside. Which was a mistake, because it was a lot stronger than I anticipated. The flask was heavy in my hands, both of them, as I–

— raised the cast iron skillet to about chest level and brought it down as hard as I could on Moore’s head. I was ready to do it again, but he sunk to the floor before I could, the back of his head more of a mess than I could have ever been prepared for.

A wave of nausea pulsed through me and I pressed the flask back into Tiernan’s grasp with one hand, putting the other to my mouth as I bent over and coughed. The less I thought about Moore’s death, the duller the sensations associated with it became. It was all rushing back now, the heady horror and excitement of it filling my bones.

“I take it you’re not much of a whiskey drinker,” Tiernan inferred, placing the flask back inside his jacket. I shook my head no, settling into a seat on the cool, gray steps. The coughing had robbed me of a decent amount of oxygen, and I needed a minute to catch my breath. Tiernan dropped down next to me, his gaze fixed on the bottom of the staircase above us.

“I can’t take you to my room,” I said, my throat tight from the coughing. It seemed as good a time as any to break the news. Killing Moore had been a monstrous thing. Which, I supposed, made me a monster. But that didn’t mean Tiernan had to meet the same fate.

“Cecily,” Tiernan began, “I had zero intention of–”

“Sure,” I said quickly, cutting him off. “You just wanted to walk me up.”

“That’s right.”

“Well.” I stood, grabbing onto the railing tightly. The floor was definitely swaying beneath me. “Two more floors,” I murmured, putting one unsteady foot in front of the other.

We didn’t speak anymore as we walked, which made it even easier to keep thinking about Moore, the way he gurgled and spat blood and curled his long fingers into the rug. As disturbing as all of it had been, the thing that bothered me the most about the entire incident was what happened before I hit him, in the seconds that passed as I raised the skillet up, before I ever brought it down.

Moore had looked up at me, which I hadn’t been planning on. Recognition flashed in his eyes, almost like he knew what was going to happen next. He didn’t move, and I didn’t stop. I wanted to know that he never saw it coming. But I couldn’t say that now.

I pulled the door open to the fourth floor and let Tiernan walk in front of me. The stroll to my room was a short one, but it felt longer through the haze of the alcohol. I stopped at 408, and turned to Tiernan. “This is me.”

He bowed his head somewhat, taking a step back. “Good night, Cecily. I had a much better time with you than I would’ve had alone.”

That was the time to reply with a false, ‘Me too,’ but I couldn’t force the words out.

“You said you haven’t seen it, right?” Tiernan leaned a little closer. “The Grand Canyon. I’d love to go with you. See what you think.” He produced his cell phone from a pocket in his slacks. “Can I get your number?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking of what to do. I wasn’t here to see the Grand Canyon. I was here to get away, to not have to share a house with a rotting corpse. Tiernan stood in front me, waiting patiently. It seemed like no matter what I said, I couldn’t be rid of him easily. It hit me then, the quote I had been thinking of earlier: ‘The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.’

“Did you want to come in?” I asked, leaning against the door for support.

Tiernan hesitated, confusion plain on his face.

“Just come in,” I insisted, rooting through my pocket for the keycard.

Tiernan kept his mouth shut, not offering any protest as I swiped the card through the reader. It shone green and I opened the door slowly, Tiernan trailing close behind. This time, I assured myself, would be much better than the first. This time, for certain, he would never see it coming.

Batman vs. Superman Thoughts Sunday, Mar 27 2016 

I just saw Batman vs. Superman and HOLY BUTTCHEEK
I kinda really liked it!
I was prepared to hate it… To sit there in the theater and bask in the assness. But I found myself doing the complete opposite. I took notes throughout the whole movie, because they were so many IMPORTANT THINGS HAPPENING THAT I WANTED TO REMEMBER.
Now, I’ll say again… Spoilers abound. HUGE fuckin’ spoilers. So please turn away if you haven’t seen BvS yet. (Unless you don’t plan to, which is kind of a mistake).
Now, like I said, I was taking notes on my phone during the movie, and typos and autocorrect made them a bit of a mess.
What I wrote: Why wrentvtheyvputv g the building sooner
What I meant: Why weren’t they out of the building sooner?
Near the beginning of the movie, we see Bruce Wayne calling some dude named Jack in one of his buildings in Metropolis. All the employees are there, just working away, while FUCKING SUPERMAN AND ZOD TEAR UP THE CITY MERE YARDS AWAY
Why are they still there?! Why have they not evacuated? Were they waiting for the okay from Wayne? What kind of slavish devotion is that? Fuck that shit.

What I wrote: Broke a car window but everyone is cool
What I meant: Broke a car window but everyone is cool
At one point during the flashback to Metropolis and the big fight between Superman and Zod, one of them does some sonic boom shit, which blows out the windows of a car, but doesn’t knock anyone over. Okay.

What I wrote: I ship Alfred and batman
What I meant: I ship Alfred and Batman
They were meant for each other! I really don’t understand why they don’t fuck.

What I wrote: I like pec lithos
What I meant: I like Lex Luthor
Lex Luthor definitely grew on me. From the trailers, I was like, “This shit is dumb.” I’m not a fan of Jesse Eisenberg, but you know what. I fucking liked Lex Luthor. I said it.

What I wrote: Rob costume is haunting
What I meant: Robin’s costume is haunting
Holy balls. I know we already saw it in the trailers, but it’s really something, isn’t it?

What I wrote: No security at this library
What I meant: No security at this library
Batman just waltzes downstairs and starts downloading files and shit without a problem. (Mercy does not count as a problem because she does fucking dick to stop him).

What I wrote: Why batman has the most ducked up dreams
What I meant: Why Batman has the most fucked up dreams
Batman’s dreams are a doozy! My reactions to them:
1. Flying up into the bats: Retarded
2. Bat monster coming out the grave: FUCKING TERRIFYING
3. Batman vs. Superman: Fucking weird. There was so much weird shit going on. The Super soldiers, Batman using a gun, THE WORLD IS A DESERT, Superman being a penis, THOSE FUCKING BAT DEMON THINGS and then…

What I wrote: THE FLASH
What I meant: THE FLASH
I will admit, it took me about halfway into this scene to realize who the Flash was. I was like, “Who the fuck– Is that Robin? Why does he look like an asshole? Who is this asshole?” And then I saw the lightning and it all came together and it was amazing.

What I wrote: Lo
What I meant: Lo
If I’m not mistaken, Superman calls Lois Lane, “Lo,” at one point, which is a cute and perfect nickname.

What I wrote: Big ass scar on batman D chest
What I meant: Big ass scar on Batman’s chest?
Batman’s got a big ass scar on the left side of his chest. I wanna know how it got there. It looks gnarly.

What I wrote: Wonder woman, flash, aqua man, cyborg
What I meant: Wonder Woman, Flash, Aquaman, Cyborg
I wrote this note when they first show the symbols in Lex’s files. I thought it was an Easter egg, so I was excite and feeling proud of myself…

What I wrote: Lemme see that super dong
What I meant: Lemme see that super dong
We see tons of naked General Zod, but zero super dong. That’s an issue.

KEVIN FUCKING COSTNER! This scene was crazy but perfect.

What I wrote: Loud an led lol like brother and sister
What I meant: Lois and Lex look like brother and sister
They really do!

What I wrote: Wise words on god all powerful cannot be all good
What I meant: Wise words on god: Something all powerful can’t be all good, and something all good can’t be all powerful
I just really liked that sentiment. Very compelling, Lex!

What I wrote: Did lex intercept the chicks
What I meant: Did Lex intercept the checks?
This is kind of hilarious. This means that the money was never getting to wheelchair guy, but he was still telling people he worked for Bruce Wayne. Best of all, Bruce Wayne never even saw the rude messages on the checks until the umpteenth hour.

They went in on Superman’s mom! She’s an old fuckin’ lady! Have some respect! Those photos were frightening.

What I wrote: … How did lex find out who he is
What I meant: … How did Lex find out who he is?
How the fuck did Lex Luthor identify Superman? I mean, the obvious answer is that it’s mad obvious who he is; anybody could figure it out.
But if anybody could figure it out… Why hasn’t anyone until Lex? IT DON’T MAKE NO SENSE.

What I wrote: Aqua man looks retarded
What I meant: Aquaman looks retarded
Aquaman’s little video was awful. He should’ve just destroyed the camera real quick instead of acting like he was doing a fucking photo shoot just floating underwater like that.

This shit was so cool! I’m so excite. These scenes would’ve made really awesome stingers, though.

What I wrote: why is nobody evacuating
What I meant: Why is nobody evacuating?!
Again, what’s up with these people and not wanting to go the fuck home while horrible shit is going down?! The employees of the Daily Planet keep peering out the window like, “Wow, the alien ship a few blocks away is really wigging out! Let’s keep working!” Fuuuuck that shit.

What I wrote: You’re not brace. Men are brave
What I meant: You’re not brave. Men are brave.
A nice bit of dialogue from Batman to Superman.

What I wrote: I’m not sure their friendship can come back from this
What I meant: I’m not sure their friendship can come back from this
Batman was really fucking Superman up. I really don’t think I could be friends with someone who beat me like that.

I swear I never realized this before.

What I wrote: Every time we say goodbye you die a little
What I meant: Every time we say goodbye you die a little
The henchman about to burn Martha Kent was saying this to her, (or something like this), before Batman burst in and interrupted. What the fuck did he mean? Was he just dropping some impromptu poetry on his captive audience?

What I wrote: Why just leaf that spear here
What I meant: Why just leave that spear there?

What I wrote: Doomsday holy shit
What I meant: Doomsday holy shit
At this point of the movie, I had completely forgotten Doomsday was supposed to be in it. So that was a fun little surprise.

What I wrote: He looks like the troll from lotr
What I meant: He looks like the troll from LOTR
… Even if Doomsday looked the troll from the Lord of the Rings.

What I wrote: ROAST IT
What I meant: ROAST IT
When fighting Doomsday, the first thing Superman does is start punching him. If I was Superman, my very first move would be to break out the eye beams, but he doesn’t even try that until deep into the fight :/

What I wrote: Second form is cool
What I meant: Second form is cool
When Doomsday starts peeling off his skin and looks more like he does in the comics… That was pretty cool.

What I wrote: Batman is so human I love I
What I meant: Batman is so human I love it
Seeing Batman run around the final battlefield completely out of his element was pretty great. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s not really a ‘superhero.’ Or a, ‘metahuman.’ #Whatever.

What I wrote: WW kicking the most ass of anybody
What I meant: Wonder Woman is kicking the most ass of anybody
Wonder Woman kicked a lot of ass in that final battle! They really should’ve gave her the spear and let her handle shit. She was obviously capable.

What I wrote: IMPALED jfc
What I meant: IMPALED jfc
Superman really caught it! Ouch.

What I wrote: How excavator did they gaggle the two funerals
What I meant: How exactly did they manage two funerals?
I really want to know the logistics of Superman and Clark Kent’s funerals. He was buried in Kansas, but… The government was just cool with not having a body? Did they think he just dissolved? I dunno, man.

What I wrote: Thus birch has the pest hairdos
What I meant: This bitch has the worst hairdos
When not in her Wonder Woman outfit, Wonder Woman has some really awful hairdos. Diana Prince needs a new hairstylist.

What I wrote: Darks rid??
What I meant: Darkseid??
This movie is building up to Darkseid? Ignoring for a moment the fact that I think that character is ass, how many big blue/grey super powerful villains can we have in these damn superhero movies?

Complaints aside, I really freaking enjoyed this movie. It’s a great time to be alive.

P.S. Patrick Wilson played the President! (In a voice over role). I love Patrick Wilson!

OCTOBER BOOK FEST Monday, Sep 8 2014 

I, like many others, don’t have much time to read nowadays, but this year I made a resolution to read at least 12 books. I’m not doing great with it, but the resolution has motivated me to read way more than I would have normally. Here’s the list of what I’ve read so far:

  1. A Lion’s Tale by Chris Jericho
  2. Undisputed: How to Become World Champion in 1,372 Easy Steps by Chris Jericho
  3. We Were Liars by E. Lockhart
  4. The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker
  5. American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis

There’s so many great books out there, and so little time, and now October will soon be upon us, bringing with it three new books I totally want to read.

1. The Best in the World: At What I Have No Idea by Chris Jericho (October 14th, 2014)


As you can probably tell from the list above, I really dig Chris Jericho’s memoirs. For those of you not in the know, Chris Jericho is a professional wrestler, and an all around magnet for crazy situations. Here’s a tiny sampling:

  • Being robbed at gunpoint in Mexico
  • Getting into a fistfight with THIS guy:


  • Tripping and falling into THIS guy’s arms:


And like I said, that’s just a tiny sampling of the entertaining randomness Chris Jericho often finds himself caught up in. His books are breezy reads and hilarious. He also doesn’t beat around the bush and is very honest about the behind the scenes going-ons at WWE. I’m very much looking forward to devouring his next piece.

2. Prince Lestat by Anne Rice (October 28th, 2014)


-screams for ten complete minutes-

I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THIS IS A THING THAT IS HAPPENING and I probably won’t really believe it until I get to hold a copy in my grimy little hands. I’ve always loved The Vampire Chronicles, and the idea of a new one, eleven years after what was supposed to be the conclusion, excites me to no end, even though I have a really, really dirty secret:

I’ve never actually finished The Vampire Chronicles.


I’ve tried plenty of times! I’ve read Interview With the Vampire probably around ten times, (and it’s PHENOMENAL every time), but then I move on to The Vampire Lestat, and… I can’t finish it. It’s so freaking sad that I literally cannot bear it. Really. It bums me the fuck out and I always set it down in the same spot. I’VE TRIED THREE TIMES, NOW.

When I first heard about Prince Lestat in August of this year, I really wanted to try and burn through the chronicles to see if I could finish them in time for Prince Lestat, but I must’ve been smoking crack when I thought up that idea because it’s crazy talk. Still. I definitely need to finish this series already. Anne Rice is already planning a sequel to Prince Lestat, so maybe that can be my new deadline. 

3. As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales From the Making of The Princess Bride by Cary Elwes (October 14th, 2014)


As anyone else who has seen The Princess Bride, I flipping love it. It’s a fantastic movie, and an even better book. (Seriously. The book is amazing). My favorite edition of the book is the 30th Anniversary edition, which includes a lengthy introduction by William Goldman, in which he expounds upon the making of The Princess Bride movie. I always recommend this edition to friends, who without fail, always whine, “Do I have to read the introduction?” 

Okay, I kinda get it. The intro’s like 20 pages long alone. But it’s ALSO ONE OF THE BEST PARTS OF THE BOOK. 

Because of my fervent love of that introduction, I can only hope that As You Wish… will deliver more awesome behind the scene stories. And even if it’s just a retread, or not all that great, it’s still a book about the making of The Princess Bride. I mean, when you’re buying books like this,


you’re probably willing to give anything a try. (That book is actually pretty decent)!


So there you have it! The October books I’m most excited for… I better not die before I get to read them!

Are you excited for any October releases? Have any of these piqued your interest?  

Questions About South Korea, From My Lovely Facebook Friends Friday, Aug 29 2014 

While I was in South Korea this summer, I asked my Facebook friends to throw some questions about South Korea my way, and how shit goes down over there, (based on my observations).   

My Facebook friends delivered with some very insightful questions, and I’m going to answer them all to the best of my ability.


Belinda asked, “Food? How do I get my own personal kitty cafe? Weather?”

Answer(s): Regarding the food, it’s all generally pretty spicy. Even the stuff you don’t expect to be. I was pretty sick while I was over there with various stomach issues so I had to avoid a lot of the real spicy stuff, (a.k.a. everything). Luckily, there were a lot of American food chains around, with basically the same food they have stateside. We frequented Taco Bell and Hooters the most. Baskin Robbins and Dunkin Donuts, too. 

As for your own personal kitty cafe, Belinda, that’s probably going to have to wait until you get your own place. Acquire 5+ cats, and voila! Your own personal kitty cafe!

Lastly, South Korea has weather very similar to say, New Jersey. We both have real seasons and a variety of weather to keep us on our toes. While I was in South Korea, it was a little rainy the first two days, and then super duper hot the rest of our time there. Africa hot. HOT.

Amberlyn asked, “Have you seen any weird things like cursed dolls? Have you heard any urban legends?”

Answer(s): Regarding the cursed dolls question, these… things… are about as close as I got:


They were just chilling on a bench in the middle of a market in Hongdae. Creepy. 

I didn’t really hear any urban legends while I was there, but I do know of one South Korean urban legend that I think is pretty weird. Apparently, a lot of people in South Korea think that if you sleep with a fan on in your room, you’ll die because the fan will suck out all the breathable air, or cause hypothermia, (or both in what I assume is a worst case scenario). They call it Fan Death. It probably seems pretty silly to us, but they even sell fans in South Korea with adjustable timers so that they won’t run all night and kill you.

Chelsea asked, “Where does Lee Min Ho live, and what are his weaknesses?”

Answer(s): I’m sorry to report that while my grandmother and I were very dedicated to finding the answers to these questions, we came up empty handed. At one point we were chatting with the staff in our hotel about him, (two girls who were also ardent fans of Lee Min Ho). My grandmother joked, “I don’t even see Lee Min Ho on any ads around here! What do I have to do to see him?” 

One of the girls leaned over her computer and started typing away, turning her monitor to us after a few seconds. She had done a Naver image search of Lee Min Ho and pulled up a bunch of pictures of him. That was basically about as close as we got.

Jessie asked, “I would like to know how many non-Korean people you’ve seen. Also, how attractive is the general population? Like should I move to South Korea now or just stick to watching k-pop videos? Also, do Koreans view cat cafes and the Hello Kitty cafe as weird tourist traps, or is it normal to them? And one more thing. Can you try some orange juice and give it a full critique?”

Answer(s): I didn’t see very many non-Korean people. At any point my family and I could be on the subway or on the street and be the only non-Korean people there.

This led to lots and lots of stares from all the Korean people we saw. Mean-mugging. Glaring. Trying to bore holes into you using the power of their gaze. I don’t know how else to describe it. People looked you up and down, regardless of whether you noticed or whether they were driving and about to crash. If you stared back they would eventually stop but it took them a good minute. 

The only time I ever saw a good amount of foreigners was when we were at the palaces. Those are huge tourist attractions, so they got a good mix of people. I made the mistake of mentioning Cambodia in a conversation with my grandmother while we were at Changdeokgung, (second biggest palace), and a group of Korean girls started pointing at us and going, “Cambodia,” while nodding, as if they had been trying to figure out where we were from. 

Luckily, however, the general population is pretty easy on the eyes. The good part about all the staring was that I got to have a pretty nice amount of eye flirtations with cute boys on the subway.

Regarding the cat cafes and Hello Kitty cafes, when we went, my family and I were the only foreigners inside. Upon returning to the hotel after the cafes, I showed pictures to the girls at the front desk.

Me: Look! We went to the Hello Kitty cafe!

Bonnie: (one of the front desk girls): Oh wow! It’s so cute! I should go some day!

Me: Yeah! We went to a cat cafe too! (shows pictures)

Bonnie: (gapes at the photo) Are those cats… real?

Me: Yeah, of course they are!

Bonnie: (still shocked) Do you have those in America?

I was pretty surprised to learn that Bonnie had never been to a Hello Kitty cafe or a cat cafe. But as the week went on I started to suspect that Bonnie had never been anywhere, because she seemed to treat every experience I told her about with the same wide-eyed wonder as the last. When she mentioned to me that she only got 4 days off a year, it all kind of made sense. 

And last but not least… 


I had orange juice frequently in the hotel, and it was nothing to write home about. Orangey, a little watery, probably made from concentrate. I did, however, also try a tangerine slushie with tangerines from Jeju Island and that was pretty good. Overly sweet, like I find most tangerine juice products to be, but tasty nevertheless.


And that about wraps things up! Thanks to my friends for the questions! I hope these answers satisfy you!

Typical Classroom Assholes Friday, Oct 4 2013 

Every classroom has at least one asshole in it, but there are probably several. Some assholes are insidious– you never quite figure out that they’re an asshole, because they keep it to themselves during class, and then go home and set their family on fire and shit like that.

That would be an assholish thing to do, right?

That would be an assholish thing to do, right?

But some classroom assholes are easy to spot. These assholes seem to think it is their job to make it known to the world that they are an annoying asshole; as if they get paid every time someone fantasizes about ripping out their eyeballs and shoving them down their throat. While these people are horrible human beings, they can also be easily categorized. Here are two of my least favorite classroom assholes.

1. The Story Teller

It can be nice to hear from your classmates every once in awhile. Odds are your teacher speaks in a soul crushing monotone, or at least it sounds that way to your boredom-numbed mind.

"You call it Calculus, I call it nap time."

“You call it Calculus, I call it nap time.”

However, there is one classmate whose open mouth signals an oncoming nightmare. This classmate is the Storyteller, and for every sentence your teacher gets out, the Storyteller has a long, ass, boring story that they just HAVE to share with everyone.

The Storyteller at work:

Teacher: In conclusion, 2+2=4.

Storyteller: That’s just like this one time my family and I were going on a road trip to Ohio; we were gonna go to Washington but then we found out how bad the weather was gonna be that week, so we settled on Ohio, instead. It was me, my mom, my dad, and my brother. My other brother was going to come but he died of cancer the week before. Lung cancer. He was in the hospital for like a year before he finally passed on. But anyway, we were going to Ohio to spread his ashes. Which I thought was kind of gross because why do people even do that? Just spread ashes everywhere? It doesn’t make any sense to me but it said in his will that he wanted us to do that. I think I read about that sort of thing in a book one time. Like why people spread their ashes. But I don’t remember what else the book was about or what it said about it. So we went to Ohio and my mom and dad sat in the front, and my brother and I sat in the back, just like the equation!

Everyone else in the classroom: SHUT THE FUCK UP

2. The “What If”-er

The What-If-er is the Storyteller’s equally assholish cousin. Instead of telling stupid stories no one wants to hear, the What If-er asks the most asinine questions that have no bearing on anybody’s life ever, dooming the teacher to blankly stare at them and try their best not to curse them out for asking such a stupid fucking question. The What If-er’s motto is, “There’s no such thing as a stupid question,” except whoever first said that wasn’t thinking of the What If-er’s. Because they are assholes.

The What If-er at work:

Teacher: In conclusion, 2+2=4.

What If-er: But what if 2 really equaled 6 all this time and nobody knew because a few ancient texts got translated wrong?

"I'm not paid enough to put up with your bullshit."

“I’m not paid enough to put up with your bullshit.”

Keep an eye out for these assholes in one of your next classes!

An Ode to Wrestling Thursday, Sep 26 2013 

You probably have a cursory knowledge of wrestling. Like if I held a gun to your head and asked you to name three professional wrestlers, you could probably do it.

I have faith in you.

I have faith in you.

But could you tell me why wrestling is the best thing ever? Why you should devote your life to it and abandon everything else you hold dear? If not, don’t worry. I’m about to give you a primer on why watching wrestling should be your new favorite hobby.

(This primer is very WWE-centric).


Maybe it’s unfair, but you generally don’t get to be a famous wrestler if you’re ugly.

But sometimes it happens anyway.

But sometimes it happens anyway.

And even the ones that aren’t all that great looking in the face generally have rockin’ bods.

Exhibit A.

Exhibit A

And don’t worry, there’s plenty of fine looking chicks, too.

Exhibit B

Exhibit B

So even if you have no idea what the hell is going on, it’ll still be aesthetically pleasing.


But if you DO know what’s going on, your enjoyment of the product will shoot up into the sky, past space, and into some alien’s goddamn lap. Everyone knows wrestling storylines can get pretty crazy, and hella complicated.

For instance, a storyline that recently pulled at my heartstrings was the breakup of Team Rhodes Scholars, a tag team who had been competing together on and off for about a year.


They finally broke up at the Money in the Bank pay per view, when Damian Sandow, (the guy on the left), betrayed Cody Rhodes, (the other guy), by stealing a win from him in one of the most important matches of the night, where they were battling over a shot at the World Heavyweight Championship.

You, the unassuming non-wrestling fan, might have been like, “Oh, that’s messed up. He stole his win.”

Me, the wrestling fan, THE TEAM RHODES SCHOLARS FAN, who had watched them go from


to trying to beat the shit out of each other, was heartbroken. Absolutely devastated for the rest of the week night. But having only watched wrestling since April, you may be wondering how I was able to form such a connection. Well…


Like really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, gay.

But still not quite as gay as gay porn.

But still not quite as gay as gay porn.

This really surprised me when I first started watching wrestling because I always thought of it as really macho and assumed the main audience was young, heterosexual men… But then I started really watching wrestling and


it just gets gayer and gayer


the more I watch.


Rated RKO.

Rated RKO.

To add onto the gayness, tag teams, a constant in wrestling since 1901, (says Wikipedia), are basically just gay couples who happen to fight together against other gay couples.

When they’re not fighting, they’re either being adorable,




“Alright, Chey, I’m not into this gay shit,” you may be saying, if you were dropped on your head as a baby. “Is there anything else that’s good about wrestling?”

Luckily for you, there is.


One of the reasons wrestling is looked down on is because they’re not really beating each other up,* as opposed to sports like MMA or boxing. But since wrestling is more about entertainment than trying to kill each other, there’s more space for moves like this:




All of that shit looks really cool, and you can enjoy it without the crippling guilt of wondering whether one of those guys will be able to walk tomorrow.


So, in conclusion, get off your ass and go start watching some wrestling right now or YOU WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOURSELF

*BUT wrestling is still one of the easiest ways to fuck yourself up forever. While the wrestlers try their best not to injure themselves and each other, injuries do occur, and ridiculous amounts of pain are par for the course. All you have to do is hear wrestlers and doctors describe getting slammed on the mat as enduring a “mini car-crash,” and you’ll understand why many wrestlers over the years have struggled with crippling drug and alcohol addictions.

Searching… Thursday, Sep 19 2013 

Something that’s always interested me about tracking the statistics of websites, (YEAH, RIVETING STUFF), is getting to look at the search terms people put into various search engines that eventually lead them to your site. The reason why they interest me, well, I’ve decided to list a few of the more ‘interesting’ search terms that lead people to this blog below. Investigate for yourself.

‘megan is missing barrel of death’

‘dracula gay fuck’

‘industrial piercing fuck you’

‘purple vibrator dog-shape’

‘does the industrial piercing hurt if you twirl baton’

‘rape dungeon contractor’

‘a hobo eating shit’

‘shit shaped dildo’

‘herpes feet’

‘neanderthal erection’


My Favorite Movies Saturday, Sep 14 2013 

Awhile back, I began to cultivate a list of my favorite movies. Because apparently I have way too much time on my hands.

Time. On my hands.

Time. On my hands.

In an attempt to not let that, (still unfinished), list go to waste, I’ve decided to start a new feature on the blog! It’s called, ‘My Favorite Movies,’ where I’ll showcase three movies and rant and rave about how amazing and life changing they are and how you should go watch them right now.

You know my movie choices are good because, as anyone who knows me will tell you, I am the most critical person in the fucking world


The Strangers (2008)


The Strangers is a horror movie, and, as those of you who love horror movies probably already know, the vast majority of them suck unbearable ass. So it’s always nice to find one that doesn’t.

The general gist of the movie is that a couple in a little house in the middle of nowhere is being savaged by a trio of mask wearing freaks.

Oh goodie.

I can’t imagine this ending well.

A lot of people have problems with the movie because, on the surface, it takes a bit more of suspension of disbelief than your usual popcorn fare would. The events that occur in the movie could have been easily avoided if

A) Their house wasn’t in the middle of fucking nowhere

B) The freaky mask trio didn’t have some sort of unexplained super speed


C) The couple wasn’t unbelievably and un-apologetically stupid.

But those are pretty much the tenets of any good horror movie. Half the fun of horror movies is screaming at the screen, “TURN AROUND, BITCH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING– OH MY GOD. MAYBE YOU WOULD HAVE LIVED IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO MY SAGE ADVICE.”

The movie is also pretty darn creepy and will totally put you off houses in the middle of nowhere for the rest of your life.

Casa de mi Padre (2012)


On to lighter fare! Casa de mi Padre is a comedy starring Will Ferrell, who we all know by now, is flipping hilarious.

And did I mention it’s entirely in Spanish?

It's totally as ridiculous as it looks.

It’s totally as ridiculous as it looks.

It’s a parody of low-budget Spanish grindhouse films with a dash of classic telenovela craziness sprinkled in for good measure. The plot follows Will Ferrell’s character, whose brother, a drug dealer, returns home to introduce his family to his fiancee, Sonia, and brings along a whole mess of crazy with him.

The majority of that crazy is spurred on by Sonia’s incredibly sexy uncle, la Onza, (who is played by the incredibly sexy Gael Garcia Bernal).

Try not to faint.

Try not to faint.

Not into dudes? It’s cool, Sonia’s quite a looker herself.

Here's the pair looking suave together.

Here’s the pair looking suave together.

The movie is full of intentional continuity errors sure to make you giggle, along with other cute winks to the supposed low budget-ness of the film. While it’s hard to explain just how hilarious/ridiculous the dialogue is, if you’ve got the line, “crazy shit-eating monster babies,” in your movie, you can probably rest assured that it’s a true work of art.

Possessed (2000)


I’m almost entirely convinced that I am the only person on this Earth to have ever watched Possessed. (I’ve actually watched it twice AND I OWN IT, so hats off to me). It’s a made for TV Showtime horror/drama based on the same events the movie The Exorcist is based on. This movie takes a more realistic approach, staying truer to the original events that took place in the 1940’s.

But all that is really just a front for the love story between the two priests in the movie that completely steals the show.

These guys are about as gay as it gets.

These guys are about as gay as it gets.

Father Bowdern, (on the right), is an alcoholic priest suffering from PTSD, a disorder he picked up during his time in France during World War II.

Father McBride, (on the left), is madly in love with him.

Father McBride, seen here wishing he knew how to quit Father Bowdern.

Father McBride, wishing he knew how to quit Father Bowdern.

Father Bowdern is the priest who handles the central possession and subsequent exorcism in the film, and Father McBride is pretty much his lovelorn stalker. Whether Father Bowdern is being thrown in jail, attacked by the possessed kid, or simply moping around in parks, Father McBride is instantly there, like a knight in shining gay armor.

Father Bowdern, wishing Father McBride was around to wipe his ass for him.

Father Bowdern, wishing Father McBride was around to wipe his ass for him.

Does Father Bowdern ever come around and return Father McBride’s advances? Watch the movie and find out for yourself!

Spoiler: He does.

Spoiler: He totally does.

That One Time I Gave Myself Chemical Burns Trying to Remove the Hair From my Body Thursday, Sep 5 2013 

So, even though


we are all, at times, compelled to remove hair from our collective bodies. Whether you’re trimming an unsightly and/or unruly beard, or trying to tame the wild hair that covers your arms in a sweater-like fashion, you are not alone in this practice.

You’re also not alone if you like to wallow in your body hair, convinced that, if it wasn’t meant to be there, GOD WOULDN’T HAVE PUT IT THERE.

I tend to lean towards that side, but a few weeks ago, I too was compelled to rip every single hair out of my legs. And by compelled, I mean, my dad was like, “Hey Bigfoot, we’re in the razor aisle, want to get on that shit?” (I might be paraphrasing).


By “shit,” he meant “razors.”

“Enh,” I replied. I honestly hadn’t touched my leg hair in like a year, (MAYBE MORE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!?!), and while the hair wasn’t as impressive as I had thought it would get, (I was expecting, like, a majestic mane to run my fingers through and it was really more like a patchy one centimeter mess), I still didn’t miss bending over in my dark shower and cutting myself for like an hour while the hot water ran out.

I told my dad as much and he was like, “Why not get Veet or something like that?”

This. This is Veet.

This. This is Veet.

Veet is a cream that you put on your body, and, after a few minutes, scrape away. During the aforementioned minutes, some crazy science shit goes down that makes the hair fall out. Quick, relatively simple, and, (supposedly), painless. I had tried it when I was younger and I seemed to recall it working pretty well.

So it was settled.


Later that night, I prepared for my shower and grabbed the Veet, slathering it on my legs. The bottle said to leave it on for ten minutes, or like twelve if you had some seriously heinous hair issues.

I finished the first leg, even though I couldn’t help but wonder if I was putting on too much or too little. Besides that, things appeared to be fine. Until I started on my other leg.

As soon as I applied the cream, I knew there was something wrong. The burning sensation in my leg was a pretty big hint, but I was already this far into it– I couldn’t have one hairless leg! I WOULD LOOK FOOLISH! So I persisted. And the burning got worse.

It felt a lot like how this looks.

It felt a lot like how this looks.

I did my best to ignore it. I’m a toughie. But I couldn’t help the nonstop fantasies of tearing away my red, charred flesh as I tried to scrape the hair off. Finally, I gave in and began to scrape the cream away, praying that I wouldn’t end up in the emergency room.


The hair didn’t even come off! (Well, some of it did, but not all of it). I endured that burning for nothing! And the cream left a weird icky residue that felt like somebody rubbed smashed roaches all over my legs. Total bust. Fuck you, Veet. Fuck you.

Also now I have a big bottle of Veet and no idea what to do with it.

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