I was sitting at my desk just a few minutes ago, drawing, and a really loud crack of thunder went off–no power surges or anything, just thunder–and my roomba fled from its dock and started spinning in circles
I currently now have an active roomba sitting quietly on my lap
Roy’s turning 25 on Jan 24. He is my best friend, my husband, and my partner in survival.
And he’s never celebrated his birthday. He is the fifth of eight kids from a poor family – cake, presents, candles, parties, all the fun parts of having a birthday, were never part of his life.
Can y’all help me give him a special birthday this year?
He’s worked so goddamn hard this year, doing a plethora of shitty (literally, sometimes) labor jobs, keeping the van running (I could write a whole new post about the work he’s done on our little home on wheels), and taking care of my ass. He’s had to work by himself to feed us and keep us warm countless times because my spine wouldn’t let me go to work those days. He’s sat up with me through endless nights of panic attacks and PTSD episodes. He’s taken care of me through my abortion, breakups, and cold nights.
He deserves to be fucking SPOILED! I, however, am much too poor to do that myself. So I am planning a Denver birthday tour for him – establishments that give you free (or nearly free) stuff on your birthday. If you know about a good one other than Denny’s breakfast, hit me up!
If you want to spoil him a little yourself, however, I know he’d loooove to see some new donations on PayPal.me/roydieu or in his gobank (roydieu@gmail.com). You can also send him something off our wish list (I’ll be adding a few things for him through out the next few days).
If you want to send him a package directly, hit me up for our mailing address!
A couple hours after I made this Roy was arrested. Last year we lived in a car and couldn’t afford to insure or register it and apparently at some point we got ticketed for it (I’ve been trying all day to remember this, but all I’ve got are memories of cops specifically telling us they were NOT going to ticket us because we obviously can’t afford it). But even if I could recall the incident, we wouldn’t have been able to pay for it anyways.
His bail was set at $1000. Obviously, I don’t have that kind of money. So, instead of a fun loop pedal or a mini amp for his birthday, I’m asking you guys to help me get him put of jail for his birthday.
I’m severely depressed and physically disabled and living homeless by myself puts me in just so much more danger than I was before. I’m alone, I’m scared, and I’m begging for help right now.
We just hit $800!!!
If y’all send me $200 I can pick roy up on Monday (PayPal ain’t coming through until then “/)
His birthday is on Wednesday and I’m actually starting to believe I’ll have him back before then!
I’m a little bit overwhelmed tbh. I was so scared yesterday, I didn’t know what I was gonna do or how long I would be homeless by myself. But so many of you sent money and those who couldn’t sent love and I don’t feel so alone or afraid because I know that literally hundreds (?!) Of people are rooting for me and Roy. I’m so excited to show him all the love and support we got this weekend 💜
Take this NYTimes survey on the opioid crisis & make the voices of the chronically ill be heard! (a few of my responses below…)
Q: In general, are you hopeful that the opioid epidemic in America will eventually be solved? Why or why not?
A: No drug problem can ever be *solved* anymore than any mental health issue – because that’s what it is. And where there is access & addicts, there will always be a problem (look at other so-called drug wars in the past, they aren’t over, it’s just that a new drug pops up & we stop talking about the last one). 2 things would help: legalizing marijuana, which is not chemically addictive & offering a heck of a lot more affordable rehab & mental health access.
A thought that occurs to me is this. People want to say its brave to downplay the pain, to say its a 8 and not a 10. But what no one realizes until they’re there in that position themselves, is that it’s not about downplaying anything. It’s about dreading – about knowing it can be worse, even when you can’t imagine the specifics. So when the pain is just slowly gnawing away at you, when it feels as though you can’t breathe, or even when it is a fire that just won’t seem to fade, you still say that it’s not that bad. Because that fear is even more alive, the knowledge that somehow, someday, something will hurt worse. The knowing that no matter the pain, somehow it can be worse, and you’ll eventually see that day, and even when you do, you won’t be able to call it a ten. Cause even that could be worse.
THIS omg this. When your baseline is 7 you save your 10s.
People don’t seem to understand the cost of tolerence.
My 10 a few years ago is now more like an 8. The cost of it being an 8, the cost of me being able to function in that state somewhat, is permanent disfigurment from heating pads burning me. It’s taking off you shoe after getting home realizing your foot is bleeding only then. It’s the exhaustion from having to live in that state. It’s the lack of sleep because you can’t clear your mind to sleep without clearing the coping techniques holding the pain at bay.
Your number stays at 7. The doctors think this is fine. Your pain hasn’t gotten worse after all, it’s still a 7. But 10 five years ago is now 10. 10 five years prior to that became the 10 you had then. 10 from when you were 16 is now a 4. So is the gaping wound down to the muscle you didn’t notice happen.
Your pain is a 7. You’re fine. No reason to increase the pain management. Why are you so upset. Do you need help learning to cope? Don’t worry your tolerence will take care of that.
We recognize that not being able to feel pain is dangerous. People frequently injure themselves, people who are paralyzed have to be careful to look for wounds caused by them not feeling them. But it’s apparently ok to let someone’s tolerence get so high they keep injuring themselves similar ways because they can still feel pain. Somehow being in constant exausting pain wearing you down, eating away at your ability to function, is safer.
Talking Barbie prototype with a clear torso, used during the initial development stages in order to highlight how her internal talking mechanism looked/worked.
My 26 yr old sister still says things out loud like ‘ermagerd’ and ’___ ALL the things!’ Like…is that what’s gonna happen to me?am I going to be 30 still saying stupid shit like O shit waddup! Are all the youngins gonna be embarrassed by my use of outdated memes….how long until I myself am not Hip With It….how long until I am no longer a trendy memer…
my greatest fear honestly
Listen, I am 40. I was around for the early internet of webrings and hamsterdance. Homestarrunner. Those little cats in the boat singing to Immigrant Song. Longcat. Ceiling cat. Radiskull. Powerthirst.
So to me anything that is funny on the internet is, and always will be, cutting-edge and hilarious. If it’s funny the first time, it’s funny the eleven thousandth time. No exceptions.
I accumulate memes. Social media sites form actual strata in my soul, revealing my geological age in layers: Geocities, Myspace, Livejournal, Tumblr. Memes encrust me, like jewels, just layer on layer of reaction gifs and shitposts, some of which I barely understand, but I refuse to let go of. I cling to them, they are ever-relevant, undying.
You callow youths, who think in your innocence that that memes come and go, you are tepid fools who still smell of milk.
I am where memes go to die. I am where memes go to live eternal.
Someday, if you are lucky, you will join me. Bring your breadsticks meme, your Spiders Georg, your Bode, your big mood, your Supernatural gifs, your oh worm. Come with me and rejoice in pointless in-jokes and long-forgotten references. Embrace your encyclopedic knowledge of comedy sites ca 2006 and come share the knowledge with us. Come with me and lik the bred.
You gotta.
“You callow youths, who think in your innocence that that memes come and go, you are tepid fools who still smell of milk.”
Put this on my headstone, underneath a picture of Ceiling Cat.
Look I still go “but I am le tired!” on a regular basis, sooooooo
At 33 and 32 respectively, @ibnhergyr and I both relish quoting outdated memes, participation around our 17 year old nephew. And new memes? I’ve purposefully waited until something was no longer “cool” before taking about it. I’d you must grow old, take glee from making the younger generation cringe by using issued memes!
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 
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