I didn’t sleep well last night.
And while it could be that I have the sleep pattern of a psychopath, have 22,000 items still left on my to-do list, trash on trash television programs patiently waiting for me on my DVR to watch, 2 books I’m currently reading, wondering what James Franco is up to in a very moment, etc. etc. etc.
Last night, however, I’m going to blame lack of sleep on this bitch.
You’ve probably have started to see previews for the upcoming film Annabelle, which is the prequel to The Conjuring and follows the story of a couple who begin to experience supernatural incidents involving a vintage doll shortly after their home is invaded by satanic cultists.
Now, listen. It’s known I have a fiery love for all things Horror films, but let me have a moment of honesty.
Antique dolls creep me out. I can watch Child’s Play all day and not blink an eye, but those old school dolls? Hand me my purse, because I’m out.
My spirit still isn’t right from Dead Silence.
Now here comes this damn doll’s cousin Annabelle twerking all over my peace with her creepiness. To me, she was the scariest part of The Conjuring and she was only in the film for a grand total of probably about 15 minutes. She scared the hell out of us, got her check and bounced, and returning to terrorize in 30 seconds or less until next month. And yes, I’m the girl that changes the commercial every time she arrives on my television and puts on the channel with all the church programs or The Disney Channel. Annabelle wouldn’t DARE step in Mickey’s house with that shit.
Arriving in my face also, is another story.
Despite my punk ass feelings toward her, will I be in attendance for the Annabelle premiere?
Scream out in theaters with this idiot when Annabelle hits theaters everywhere October 3rd.
Overall when it comes to reading advice on being
forever alone single, dealing with men and dating/relationship advice, it normally goes in one little drunken ear and out the other.
I just prefer to let life be the real teacher. Nothing can teach you like the experience of your own. And from random conversations with that one aunt.
While being told that wearing more camisoles and brightly colored cardigans will make you appear more friendly and less intimidating to latch you a man are eyeroll worthy, the advice columns about break-ups are usually the ones that are the fucking worst. Sure, some can be inspiring or thought provoking, but then there are others that troll in with advice like:
EAT YOUR FEELINGS
SPILL ALL THE DETAILS OF THE BREAK-UP
TAKE A SUPER WILD TRIP WITH YOUR GIRLFRIENDS
and the goddamn Nickelback worse:
GET UNDER A NEW GUY TO GET OVER THE OLD ONE
Now, I almost wish that this person that recently made news read at LEAST that hot mess bundle of advice, because she clearly didn’t read the ones that were for sane people. Let’s just call her….Felicia.
That’s 121,669 shades of NO DAMN MA’AM. In a span of seven days.
You should call NO ONE 77,639 times in one week. NOT. ONE. SOUL. Not work related people, not your mama, not your amazing sibling, not Jake from State Farm, not your best friend from childhood, not Tyrone, not your fabulous friend that gets even more fabulous after they’ve have a few cocktails, not the pizza place, not even on Jesus. He has enough on his plate, sis.
Clearly you never read a break up tip post-it let alone an actual column, or owned an Beyonce‘ album, or had a heart to heart with someone or been forced to watch He’s Just Not That Into You with a girlfriend on a drunken Saturday night.
So, thanks for the inspiration on breaking this down, and this is for you Felicia.
How is this thing generated?
If I win do I win a lifetime supply of Cheez-Its or James Franco paraphernalia?
How do I vote for someone?
Is Simon Cowell over picking the winner? Is there a winner? At the end of the day, aren’t we ALL winners??
BUT, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these, so I’m throwing this in my pile of YES and giving it a go.
So thank you to the lovely Dayeanne Hutton over at Potpurrri, a fashion blog for eclectic girls, for nominating me for the “Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award”.
1. Who is your number one fashion inspiration?
As basic as this is going to sound, my #1 fashion inspo is Audrina Patridge. Yes, the girl from the show I can’t quit ever, The Hills. My grandchildren will
suffer be watching this program and reliving Miss Patridge’s style.
The pet debate on adding a little fur baby edition to my roof has been an ongoing scrimmage for a few years now.
Should I or shouldn’t I?
Shouldn’t I or should I?
Well, in the midst of summertime madness and most likely too much sunshine oozing into my brain cells, I’d decided that I definitely should take a jump into the kennel and become a pet mama….which only meant that naturally I’d live to regret that decision.
Twirl me back into the land of Unacceptable because I have not dished on the things that I’ve been loving in officially over a year. Despite the fact that I’ve been still front seat window on the struggle bus, there have been more than a few things that I have been loving and keeping to myself. And that is simply rude. So, I’m relaunching The Obsession Diaries and back to breaking down EVERYTHING I am currently loving and spending dollars on shit I don’t need or can’t afford. (more…)
The MTV Video Music Awards are nowhere close to what they used to be. We know this. But every year we continue to watch and wait for at least one hair flipping glimmer of hope, and until then we turn to social media to help cope through it all.
If you experience in particular live Twitter, you must so during an awards show. There’s barely anything in this world better. Except for alcohol after a rough day. And day’s off. Early pay day deposits. Seeing an ex do bad without you. A really good ass cheese platter. And an actual life.
Okay, so there’s a lot still greater but there’s no other way to spend the end of summer than wasting 3 hours to watch one of the most talked about events every year and The
Beyonce’ concert VMAs was once again leaving topics, and tweets, up for discussion.