Another Boring Update

A couple of weeks back, I had to drive into unfamiliar territory to visit a friend in the hospital. My mother insists I take her GPS on occasions such as this, and since I reckoned a gosh darn hospital shouldn't be too difficult for a modern invention specifically designed to direct me to the location of my choosing, I took it.

You see, I didn't learn from the last time I tried to use it to get me to the freaking Philadelphia International Airport, when it insisted that what appeared to be the off-site parking lot for super duper long-term parking was where I needed to be, rather than, I dunno, someplace crazy, like arrivals.

I also didn't learn from the time it took my family into a residential neighborhood and insisted some dude's house was Denny's.

It's haunted, that GPS. This is the only logical explanation for its behavior. It's the only reason I can fathom for why it told me that a major hospital was located in a business park well about three or so miles down the road from the destination at which I was yearning to arrive. It didn't take too long before I yanked that impish gremlin away from its power source and decided to pull over and make a phone call to my friend.

I was in the right lane, and impulsively decided to pull over into a parking lot, using my turn signal. I could only assume that my quick deceleration had caused some irritation because I heard the blaring of a car horn and saw another car right up my car-butt. I chanted to myself, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." before I saw the vehicle as it passed by me, and a woman nearly leaning out her open passenger window screaming, "Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!" All I could do is lift a palm skyward and shrug at her.

What did she want from me? Some sort of screeched agreement, 1-1/2 seconds of fervent contrition, or maybe for me to throw my first-born from the car as some sort of offering to pay for my sins?

Ten years ago, someone bellowing at me on the road would have rattled the hell out of me. But now, I am merely curious as to what could possibly be going on inside the head of a person who feels that honking their horn aggressively is not enough of a punishment for someone executing the minor infraction of slowing down suddenly, yet not causing an accident. Sure, my bad. This shit happens on the road. But really, lady - calm down. No need to roll down your window and lose your mind on me. It wasn't personal.

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Other than eliciting wrath from my fellow commuters, most of my day has involved trudging away at the same thing I've been working on for several weeks - setting up the online store for the AirLARP/Zombie Apocalypse/MilSim site. There had been some noise about how I was meant to also write a blog for the site, and I've recently learned that a big portion of what I'll be doing is ... you know, it's almost hard to type this, because it's a combination of two things I never thought I would remotely be involved in.

I'm going to be writing a fashion blog for post-apocalyptic/fantasy/military costumes. I mean, what? Anyone who knows me well, and/or in person can tell you that I never use the word zombie unless I'm referring to my mental state after some intractable sleep-deprivation, and there's not a person on this planet who would connect me with fashion, ever.  For any reason.

Even the guy who put me in charge of this sees me during virtually all Skype meetings in the same red hoodie I've been wearing since my grandmother gave it to me for Christmas. If he's able to see the shirt under it, he invariably suggests I change it, because he's seen it too many days in a row. Another popular suggestion: wash your hair.

So, if I'm less productive with writing something like the Sims story or a movie review, it's because I'm busy trying to figure out how to cram my scuzz ball into a fashionable hole. That's disgusting.

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The Boring Update

I don't think I've ever posted an update about my life in general when nothing was happening that would make people question the thought patterns leading up to my choices.

So I figured, why not be boring, bordering on sensible for once?

I'm still living in NJ with my mom and step dad. I'm their personal assistant/kitchen bitch. It's a pretty important job, because without me, there'd be no one to pick up the frozen, fully-cooked hickory smoked Market Day bacon that comes in while my mom is at work. Who would call the dog a fuckstick if I weren't here? Just who, I ask you, is going to deliver a poop sample to the vet? And most importantly, who would go to their bedroom and slam their door in protest of their parent's love for bickering? I'm the glue that keeps this house from ripping off its foundation.

When I first moved back home, I did a fair amount of drinking - a holdover from living in Texas with my mother-in-law and then my whole Idaho debacle. That behavior flew for about 15 minutes before my mom gently threatened the hammer drop on me, so I somehow managed to knock some sense into myself and stop.

Next up, I had to work on my post-Idaho kummerspeck. Mom and step dad feed me well, and in the land of glorious hoagies, pizza and cheese steaks, along with the holidays, I managed to pile up a meaty chunk on myself. It was fun for awhile, but even this lazy girl can only take so much greasy fingered girth-admiring. I'm definitely on the road toward not dodging every camera at risk of capturing my image.

For a long time, I kept busy at a slow pace. I had a lot of nothing to do, and was great at it. Now I'm intensely and actually busy working on setting up an online store that sells gear for Airsoft military simulations and zombie apocalypse games. I'm aware this makes no sense with my history of blogging about The Sims, movie reviews, letters I like to write to strangers and food which displeases me.

This is how it happened: my sister had taken a role in a murder mystery, which was a the beta test for an Airsoft friend of hers (named Monty) who planned to start running them regularly. I'd asked to go see the show, and that turned into being asked to do the favor of taking a very small role of my own, last minute, since it hadn't been filled yet. With my new-found determination to stop saying no to everything that sounds remotely like too much uncontrolled social contact or unfamiliar activity in front of strangers, I decided to just say yes.

Sister and me, attempting to look 1940s-ish, while I display my expert level selfie-taking.
Phones are as hard as my sister's humorless glare.

I got to play a very fun part where I pretended to be absolutely nobody all night, who then pulls out a gun in a twist ending. Not long after, Monty asked me to come back for a future show, as a paid actor. After another interval of time which I can not recall (but still not very long), he asked me to put my organizational skills and talent for doing very boring, tedious things to work by helping him set up his store for him.

I'm becoming familiar - in a way I'd never planned - with the vast array of accoutrements people use to run around in the woods, trying to kill each other - not for real, although dressed as though they mean it.

Once I get the store sorted, I'll be concentrating on the next murder mystery, as well as writing a blog for the store's website. I gotta be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing, or why anyone would give me the responsibility of doing it.

So, that's my update. I've done a pretty good job not making an ass out of myself for awhile, and although it's often less fun than playing a jester in my own throne room, it's still kinda neat. Apologies for not updating as often as I usually would - when I get a project, I tend to fly at it violently, to the detriment of anything else.