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The Bang Bang Theories

Positive Vibe-ing

Gooooood Morning, Reader! I’m hoping this post finds you feeling just ducky today, which I’m not even sure that that means. How do we even know how ducks feel?

Regardless, here we are, hoping you are feeling excited and inspired today!

You can see right here, from this opening, that my outdoor-cold-AF meditation morning routine DOES, in fact, pay off.

Being as it’s Saturday morn and I have the luxury of time, I sat outside drinking up the few beams of sunshine along with my coffee, breathing in the brisk air and getting my mind right for the day listening to not one, but two morning messages.

I’m going go be honest, I still feel like a nutzo when I’m out there repeating my Stuart Smalley mantras. This morning I found myself kinda half-whispering at first, and then I threw my fuckitz to the wind and started saying them like I mean them because number one, not another single person is out there hanging around because it’s cold. That’s enough reason, there is no number two.

Cake showed up at my door one morning this week, as if I had mantra-ed it right into existence, and maybe I did, because the heart wants what the heart wants, and so does the mouth.

I know that I willed this into my life because the very weekend before this cake magically appeared I put out into the vortex, “I really want to make and eat a Ding Dong Cake,” and then I went to the grocery store and bought all the ingredients.

Except I didn’t make and eat a Ding Dong Cake that weekend, because I was lamenting to My Mister that I’ve gained 6 lbs. since I started dieting in January. His reply?

My Mister: “I have three words to explain why. Ding Dong Cake.”

And he literally Ding Dong Cake Shamed me, so I didn’t make one.

But then! My rockets of desire were already launched into the Vortex, and one showed up at my doorstep:

Yes, that’s officially a single-serving size piece that was eaten right out of the pan, so quickly I didn’t even get a photo of it before it was chomped into. I know you’re reading that without judgement, because we’re a no-judging zone, right, Reader? Right.

My friendie made this cake and it was so delicious she just knew I needed it in my mouf, and door dashed it to my doorstep. It was nice to see a friendie face again, I miss socializing. I miss having activities and cheese and wine at my house. When it’s not just me and the cats. I’m still drinking wine and eating cheese by myself, it’s crazy talk to think that’s stopped, however now I have to finish a bottle of wine myself. Which I frankly rarely do, to be honest, so there’s a lot of wasted wine going on over here, which is a petty crime against grapes.

No, I don’t have that cake recipe, but I do need to get that. Because I also had a virtual appointment with my dr. this past week, and she specifically told me I can have cake if I want it, just be mindful of a portion size, and well, I think I did a good job with that because this cake lasted four whole days before it was gone, so good job, Me.

My doctor is a new doctor to me and we had a good discussion and she recommended I try intermittent fasting, and so I started that. And I can have cake within my 8-hour eating window if I want it, and frankly this is the diet of my dreams. One big change I had to make was learning to love drinking my coffee black in the morning, and that is a small change to make if cake and wine and cheese is able to remain in my mouth.

The coffee thing wasn’t nearly as difficult of a change to make as it could have been, I had weaned myself off of flavored coffee creamer over the past year. I never thought I’d be happy without my Almond Joy Coffee creamer, yet here I am, happy without it. So I was already switched to just cream, and now it wasn’t even a hard switch to black this week. It’s fine. Tastes can change and adapt.

So my four days of 16-hour fasting has resulted in a 3 lb. weight loss, and that’s with eating all the cake. I don’t want to get cocky about it, so we’ll leave it there for the moment, until I have a pattern of results, but I’m hopeful that my rockets have been launched and are allowing me to lose weight while having my cake and eating it, too.

Be careful intentional in what you wish for, Reader.

The Princess and the Pee

Reeeder!  I have been walking in tall cotton this year! Things ARE GOING MY WAY and yes, I’m SHOUTY about it, because I have been working like h-e-double-toothpicks to manifest goodness into my world and it was finally time for my open vortex to receive.

I know that sounds super dirty, or else maybe it’s just dirty sounding to me. Either way. I have had a very open vortex, ready to receive. Bada Bing!

This evening I decided to receive some wine into my mouf, and Purry came up to investigate because her belief is, “What’s hers in mine,” and that is mostly true because she’s my beloved old girl and if she wants, then she should damn well have.  Which is almost always anything I have with butter, cheese, an Arby’s roast beef sammy or a fresh glass of water.

She was disappointed in this glass of Malbec, and frankly so am I.

p.p.s.s. — worth noting: this 2nd photo has two round orbs in it! they were not in any of the photos before or after, so I don’t think it’s just a dirty camera. The spirits are around my spirits!

It’s Costco brand, and it was rather inexpensive so I bought TWO bottles because see opening statement about high cotton. I thought the saying might be “tall clover” and I think it can be both. So I’m in tall clover and high cotton, but this wine is drier / more tannin-y than I prefer and now what am I going to do with it other than drink it, I guess.

I’m not in such tall clover that I can afford to squander a perfectly okay bottle of vino. I’m not a Rockefeller.

Are you sitting there scrutinizing those photos, Reader, and wondering what the what that white patch is on my table?

Well, it’s just a big problem that I single-handedly created when I spilled a bottle of 100% acetone on the table and didn’t notice, and guess what happens to the finish on your wood table when that happens?? You don’t actually have to guess, you can see for yourself. I have big plans to paint this with some dark grey chalk paint, and then do a stencil on it and this happened a few months ago and I haven’t painted it yet, so it may turn into a Spring project.  I can only do so much, Reader, sheesh, stop judging me! 90-Day Fiancé isn’t going to watch itself.

The table and the wine are not the reason I feel drunk with purchasing power. No, it’s much more basic than that.

We splurged a whole hunny on a new mattress topper and it is currently doing it’s expanding foam thingy and boy-o-boy am I excited at the cloud of softness that awaits me, I hope tonight.

We took our old one off the bed because someone not me or My Mister PEED ON THE BED ONCE AGAIN, and yes, I’m pointing the finger of blame at Purry, but see above, she’s old and gets away with all her bad behavior. She’s taught me unconditional love, that is her life lesson to me.

Anyway, while My Mister and I were doing an 11 p.m. bedding presto-chango, we were disheartened to see how yellowed our 10-or-more-years-old foam topper was looking and then I caught a whiff of pee and we just aren’t sleeping on even a whiff of pee. So it was gathered up and shoved in the garage until trash day, and then we slept on our Low Bed, because it lost 3-inches in height.

My Mister: “I feel like I’m sleeping on the floor.”

Trixie: “Ditto. I hate it. Maybe the pee smell wasn’t really there after all and we should put it back on the bed?”

My Mister: “We’re not sleeping in a pee bed.”

I think that’s a pretty fair benchmark.

So today, because I have the luxury this week of not being broke off my ass any longer, thanks New Job!, we splurged and bought the new mattress topper.

Cats are locked out of the room.  At least for now.

It takes very little for us to feel like Rockefeller’s. Not sleeping in a pee bed is a pretty basic standard.

Life is good enough at Chez Bang Bang.

Wishing you the same, Reader!

**I want to acknowledge that I feel like I’ve got the world by the tail at the moment, despite the cat peeing on my bed.  Attitude, Reader. It’s all about maintaining that positive attitude.

 

Here We Go, 2021.

If it’s true that how you spend the first day of the New Year dictates the rest of the year, I am in for a lot of sleep and chocolate cake, which frankly sounds like I’ll be living my best life ever.

With the thought in the back of my mind that what I do today could in fact have a bearing on the rest of my year, I did make a concerted effort to also engage in the following activities:

1/  Stand outside on the deck and stretch and take some yoga-breaths in and out, despite getting rained upon, because nature is good for the soul, even when you’re viewing the destruction of December’s storm to your backyard, knowing that Mother Nature is a Mother who does what the hell she wants.

2/ Drink a good amount of water, including a bottle of San Pellegrino, which I’ve added to my daily-ish routine since reading about the health benefits of adding this mineral-rich water to my bod

3/ Take all my meds and vitamins on their routine, which has slacked off during the last few weeks of pre-post-pre-post-pre-post holidays since Thanksgiving, which is a whole of of pre and posting holiday excuses to justify why I forgot to take my Vitamin C et al.

4/ Did some stretching around, because I do yoga. I mean, in the loosest sense of the word, but I started it last January or and while I haven’t kept it up on the daily, I’ve kept it up a whole hella lot more than I did any other year before.

So basically, today was about balance. Balancing out my noon wakey-up-y with some outdoorsy breathing and cooking for my blind raccoon and eating more chocolate cakey, and also having a pint of raspberries because nutrition, and drinking water and making spaghetti sauce and now here we are, typing up a New Years non-inspirational message of hope, but more of, “Let’s just do the best we can more often than not, and if we can’t do the best we can every single day because we’re tired sometimes, just try to balance it out with some water and raspberries and maybe a vitamin so we don’t feel all sluggy and feed something that needs a meal and can say, “Pretty Good Job, Me,” at the end of the day.

That’s my wish for you, Reader, as we leap into 2021. That every single day you have at least one reason to say, “Pretty good job, Me.”

Buckled Up

Well, hello there Long Lost Friendie!  Where in the world have I been??? The last time we got together we were eating all the pies in Ohio on Thanksgiving, and now here we are, just after Christmas.

I have been sooooooo bizzy! For realz bizzy, and not just the Lazy Girl’s version of bizzy.

I’ve been taking an online course.

And now I’m four weeks behind.  It requires a lot of thoughts and also it’s online and my biggest challenge has been wanting to get on the computer after I’ve spent all day on the computer. It’s a hurdle I’m going to work really hard to overcome. I would like to force myself into being a Morning Girl. If I can put my thoughts into my class before they get swallowed up with work, it would serve me better.  Sounds like a good idea. It’s actually a great idea that Afternoon Girl has for poor ol’ Morning Girl. We just need to get Evening Girl lined up on the plan and get her ass to sleep sooner rather than later. Evening Girl loves watching tv in bed until the wee hours.

I know a guy named Shane and we got to chatting. I don’t know why I’m so nosy genuinely interested in finding out the minutia of people’s lives, but I am.  I started nitpicking him for details on his routine (don’t ask why, I’m not sure I have an answer), and he puts himself to bed – and asleep – by 9:30 every single night and is up and at ’em at 6:00 a.m. IN THE MORNING and he doesn’t even start work until 9 a.m.

I dated a guy once (who’s wife reads this, hey, hi there!) and HE was also an early-to-bed-early-to-rise guy, and it was annoying AF and probably the reason his new wifey works out much better for him as a spouse than I ever would have. Because No, I don’t want a cuppa coffee at 4:30 in the fucking morning, it’s THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

But anyway. Back to mine and Shane’s routine. Because right after I found out Shane’s routine, when it was closing in on 9:00 p.m., I would announce to My Mister that it’s nearing mine and Shane’s bedtime and I’d start getting ready for bed, so I could be on my way to dreamland closer to 9:30. Just like Shane.

And guess what?? I would spring awake in the morning, feeling refreshed and ready to grab up all the day had to offer. Not at 6:30, no – well, I’d wake up around 6, but keep myself warm and cozy because my house is set on cold-as-fuck degrees at night and that kills any 6 a.m. incentive.

Yes, we have a programmable thermostat – we’re not living like barbarians. But it’s kinda tricky and we can’t figure out how to make it get warmer at 6:00 a.m. So sometimes now if one of us gets up to pee, and it’s closer to getting up time, we’ll tich it up a few notches to help ol’ Trixie with the actual rising and shining.

The bottom line to that whole story is that nothing is just easy-peazy around Chez Bang Bang, Reader.

I know you think I’m living the life of Wine & Roses, and actually I AM because I do drink my fair share of wine, and I’ve been buying myself a whole buncha pretty roses because they super make me happy. I have several focused intentions I’ve been hard at work on, not just getting to bed earlier, and they start with adding a whole buncha pretty things to my daily life, and flowers on the regular are one place I’ve decided to start.

So mine and Shane’s bedtime was working out pretty well for me, but then I sort of fell off the wagon and started staying up late again because I just really like to watch tv in bed, so sue me, sheesh Reader! Now I’m out of the habit, but I can get back into the habit and it’s time to try to buckle back down. And if I can get myself buckled back down, then I can wake up early and use my uncluttered brain power to take my class while drinking coffee at a very reasonable morning hour – let’s be clear, is not and will never by 4:30 a.m. for this Lazy Girl – and actually get that checked off the list before I get swallowed up in the day.

It all sounds good on paper.

So that’s what we’re doing around here. Trying to get buckled down.  Because in other super-excited-finally-finally news, I finally landed a new job! Still working from home, at least for several months, and it is going to take up all of my brain power, and that is why I need to get refocused on mine and Shane’s bedtime, and also why I haven’t been here very much. I have been super bizzy doing important things, for realz, and it’s also why I’ve done zero cooking or baking this holiday season, and guess what? The holidays happened anyway.

As my pretend friend Liz Gilbert writes, Onward!

 

That’s Amore.

I am so so so gol’darn tired right now, Reader, and my words feel dried up. But come on, Me. I’ve posted twice this month? That’s ridiculous. Certainly I’ve had more to say. But let’s go back to I’m just tired.

I didn’t sleep well the past few nights. My Mister and I stayed up waaaaay too late watching The Queen’s Gambit, and it had me tearing up and clapping and shouting and yelling hooray! and then it was over and now I’m sad that there’s not more of it and I had to take a long afternoon nap because see sentence above about not sleeping well. I’m just in a bad pattern, and I want to be in a good pattern, but here I am.

Thanksgiving was this past Thursday and it was a quiet-ish event, as most people experienced. We had one guest and then a couple folks stopped over later in the evening for pie.

Because we had pie. Many pie.

We had so many pie because My Mister asked me what kinda pie I wanted for the holiday and I replied, “All of them.”

I didn’t want to be selective. #AllPiesMatter

My Mister: “We don’t need all of the pie. It’s mostly just going to be the two of us.”

Trixie: “If we don’t have all the pie, Covid wins!! And I refuse to let that bitch win!”

So My Mister went to four different locations to pick up all the pie for me.  He was definitely speaking my love language.

We had pumpkin, pecan, razzleberry, french silk and lemon meringue. Ladies choice of cool whip or vanilla ice cream, or both should Lady desire.

I made the “don’t ever do this after you’ve eaten five pies and are super tired and also feeling a little fragile” move of weighing myself this morning.

We have two scales in the bathroom.

One is named Mean Scale and the other is named Even Meaner Scale. Even Meaner Scale clocks you in about 2.2 lbs. more than Mean Scale. I don’t know why we have two scales in there, but we do, and we look at the numbers of both of them, and then don’t use that data to influence our decisions at all. Obviously. But we are aware of the data.

This morning, Even Meaner Scale was truly rude.

I used that information provided by Even Meaner Scale to eat the last slice of lemon meringue pie like a barbarian standing over the countertop, straight from the pan. My thought was to just clear it out so we can start fresh on Monday morning. It was a strategic move, Reader.

Taco the Outdoor Kitty Raccoon did eat a good amount of pie, including pumpkin and pecan. She never once feels bad about her body image. She’s a smart taco.

We are getting a big snow storm sometime tomorrow and just today I was standing outside with the 60-degree sun on my face, listening to my positive mantras and grounding my bare feet in the grass to do something with my ions and align my root chakra. There’s a lot going on at Chez Bang Bang. All the time, a goddamn party.

My Mister just informed me we’re going out for more pie, before the snowstorm hits. Pizza Pie. I’m going to let it hit me right in the eye.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things I Won’t Say

I have a very wise friend in Florida who is a zen goddess who always takes the path less angsty. She’s respectful and considerate and provides a valued moral compass that gently moves you in the right direction.

Recently this zen goddess made a sage social post about the election….”if you win, don’t gloat….if you lose, don’t despair….this has been hard on all of us.”

So basically, be kind. No matter if you’re the left wing or the right wing, we both belong to the same bird, yada yada.

After four years of a president who has never taken the high moral road, we’re being asked to do what he has never done – and many of his culty supporters have never done – because it’s the right thing to do.

So I will take the high road and refrain from saying all the things that bottled up on the back of my tongue, I will swallow them down and not let them escape, and instead work on my higher vibrational path of positivity.

I wanted to shout, “Ha! Take that, Motherfucker!”

But I won’t say it.

On the back of my tongue rested the words, “Finally! After four years of suffering though an idiot bully who has unleashed a staggering number of bullying believers in his bullshit brain-washing rhetoric (fake news! witch hunt! the likes we’ve never seen before! phony election! mail fraud!) we finally get to kick this asshole to the curb!

But I won’t say it.

I want to say, “Worship a false God because he held up an upside-down bible once so obvi he’s a good Christian – so in your false-ass faces.”

I want to say all that.

But I won’t say it.

I want to say, “I hope this election has made you absolutely unhappy, restless, shocked and flummoxed as the last four years has made so many of us with his dividing words and actions, the racists he has lifted out of the sewers they were hiding in and given them too much platform for their ugly voices to be heard – I hope they all go back underground and into hiding again and I never have to hear them speak again!”

But I won’t say it.

I want to say, “I’m glad you know more people are against you than for you!”

But I won’t say it.

I would like to say, “FUCK YOU!!” loudly and in all caps to his sheep supporters who believe the virus is a hoax and yelled TRUMP 2020 in my face at the grocery store when I complained to management about them not putting a mask over their dirty-ass mouths.”

But I won’t say it.

I won’t say any of that.  We’ve always been asked to take the high road, and follow the examples to  better rather than being petty. So I’ll take the high road and I won’t say any of that.  And tomorrow I’ll crank my positive meditation vibes up to high.

 

Suck It.

Where did we leave off, Reader? Oh, yeah. I was telling you we had a November Goal of posting EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. to get my words out and my brain stretched into putting stories and sentences together and that’s right where we are: Day 6, and the first time I’ve sat down at the comp-u-tater.

*that whole opening paragraph is a lie. I said none of those things, except in my mind.

What I do know for sure is this: I cannot be trusted with moderation. Not in cake. Not in cats. Not in face gadgets.

I had a feeling things were going to go poorly for me when I purchased my new face grinding/sucking apparatus and then watched a couple Youtubes about the practical use for such device.

As a side note, I also had to watch a Youtubes just this very evening to figure out how to change my canister vacuum cleaner bag.  It was tricky and it was starting to win, and then thanks to the Youtubes, I mastered it. But first I had to dig a part out of the trash that I accidentally threw away, thinking it was part of the disposable, and that’s why the bag wouldn’t go on….the more you know, right?! I’m just like a sponge sucking up all the learnings.

So anyway. Back to my face grinder and sucker. It’s purpose is to micro-derm-a-brasion me. I was especially worried about adding abrasions.  That’s what drove me to the Youtubes.

There were a few particularly important tips:

1/ Don’t dermabrasion on the highest setting to start

2/ Don’t lollygag too long in one spot, especially when using the debris-sucking piece

3/ Don’t microderm with the diamond grinder more than twice a week

4/ You can use the dirt sucking device every day if you want

5/ Don’t lollygag too long in one spot

6/ Don’t lollygag too long in one spot

So immediately I kicked that bitch up to high and got to work. This face is a mess and needs grinded and sucked up.

I was doing fine.

I put myself on a schedule for the diamond head – twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays.

Debris sucking every day, don’t lollygag too long in one place.

We had a plan, me and my face.

And then a few days following the schedule, I really wanted to give my pores a workout.  Like all things I know I probably shouldn’t do, I did it anyway, much like when I pass by the Goldfish crackers and KNOW I shouldn’t buy them because I think they are two servings, not eight like the lying bag says.

I got aggressive and a little lackadaisical with the rules. I was flying along on high, and then I lollygagged too long in one place.

I was surprised that if you put a sucking device on high on one spot for a little bit longer than maybe you should, you’ll make a hickey on your face.

It’s as if I completely forgot what being 17 was all about.

My face is reminding me all about 17, complete with zits and blotchy parts.

After some initial panic, My Mister assured me it would heal up and go away, and I had to talk myself down by reminding myself that people get bruises on their faces and they go away, so surely this will clear up, right?

The price of beauty, Reader. Exactly $89.99 plus tax. Life lesson in hickey making? Priceless.

 

 

Security Details.

It’s Amazon Prime Day and that means I’ve just contributed yet again to Bezo’s Billions, because while I would like to not be a part of this cyclone of money he swirls himself in, The Deals are just too compelling.

I ordered MASCARA delivered to my doorstep for $3.34 AND it was on a YOU SHOULD REALLY OWN THIS STUFF list of the 50 Best Things on Amazon.

Yes, I am their target market.  If it’s on a list and I can read all about how wonderful it is, well, consider it sold.

The summary of Things We Needed on Prime Day include, but are not limited to:

1/ Mascara

2/ Eyelash Growth Serum (I’ve used it before, it’s amazing and a fraction of the cost of the super expensive brands)

3/ A pore-sucker-outter at-home microdermabrasion kit

I see a trend here, which probably comes from my studying my face too closely for too many hours in the Crying Mirror, which I’ve actually recently dropped and shattered, and now I see myself in a hundred tiny reflections.

Luckily, I can hone in on one shattered section at a time and commence with tweezing, squeezing, and scrutinizing. I would like my faithful reader to take up a GoFundMe so I can afford a new mirror because I’m going to be FIFTY FOUR next month and really should not be viewing myself in shattered pieces. It leads to the compulsion to purchase new face creams touted on someone’s must-have list.

I could afford a new Crying Mirror, but it offends me to pay another $80 for one simply because I was careless and knocked this off the counter. I need to spend that money instead on three-dollar mascaras and a contraption to clean the filthy pores I see in the Crying Mirror.  I’d like a new one for free, with my government handout stimulus check, dear mr. president or jeff bezos, whomever gets this message and responds first.

Outside of Beauty Must-Haves, I’ve been waiting all summer for Prime Day to snap up my next adventure in Outdoorsy-ness.

It will also be my first adventure in Outdoorsy-ness in quite some time, possibly all year.

I’ve been keeping a long-eyelashed eye on inflatable kayaks, and just yesterday I saw the one I want drop from $300+ down to $100!!!

Yet I didn’t snap it up, because it wasn’t Prime Day, and so an even lower price was just a few short hours away.

Except this morning my damn kayak was $178.  I think it was a misprice leading up to Prime Day and I thought it was an appetizer price, but it was the main course price and just like that I was out of a meal a.k.a. my kayak dreams, because once I saw it for $100 there’s no way I’m paying $178.

I kept an eye on it throughout the day and it finally dropped to $106 delivered and that was close enough and now I just CHECKED IT AGAIN and it’s $100 EVEN and now I’m $6 mad about it.

This opens up a whole new shopping requirement as now I’ll need a life vest and probably some other practical supplies and for garth’s sake, I just wanna be a little outdoorsy, why is it so cumbersome!!!

Let’s hope this kayak lives up to my dreams, which realistically looks like me doing this:

Only with super-long eyelashes and glowy pores.

My Mister determined now was the time to peel off a hunny from the pile and invest in a home security system, and today was the good deal, so that’s coming to our home soon, so keep out, Burglers. We will have EYES on you.

Our conversation:

My Mister: “So, where should we install the cameras? One in the living room, so if you hear a noise you can just check it and see if anyone’s in there?”

Trixie: “Um, no. I don’t want a spy camera on me in the living room. What if I’m sitting around on the couch by myself, and one thing leads to another with myself, I don’t need that on camera.”

My Mister:  ~ blankly stares at me ~

My Mister: “So what if we just aimed it down the hallway? Do you have … um… moments with yourself in the hallway??”

Trixie: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

My Mister: “I think this whole conversation is ridiculous.”

Trixie: “It IS ridiculous because it’s not like that actually HAPPENS*, but I don’t want a camera pointed in the living room just in case it SHOULD. I want to leave my options open.”

*probably

So bottom line, I don’t want a camera facing INSIDE the house, that feels super-spy-ie and unnecessary, the cameras need to be on the outside entrances. I am far too naked far too much around here and no one needs that on camera.

And there you have it. Shit We Couldn’t Live Without Today, and also, don’t be afraid to sit on our Porn Couch, Company! Believe me, the cats are about the only thing getting any action on it, and that’s in the form of sleep. Mostly.

 

 

 

My Legacy When I’m Gone

I know you believe my life is one hip parade after another, and you’re right, Reader.

Also, I just had to ask AG (Almighty Google) if it’s “hip parade” or “hit parade” because to my mind’s ear (and now I’m thinking about ears in my head, not on my head) hip parade sounds correct and also like what I was going for here. So I’m sticking with hip parade. My mind’s mind said it was okay to use whichever I like.

My mind’s mind is a little jumpy-all-around tonight and I’m not even sure why, except I’m here trying to bang one out for you ~bada bing!~ in five minutes or less so I can get thy ass to bed. It’s a worky-day tomorrow and I require a lot lot lot of beauty sleep.

Back to my Sunday hip parade.

I spent the greater part of the day cleaning the grout in my foyer and giving all my seventybillion cat litter boxes a thorough revamp.

My six three cats generate a lot of stinky fucking stinks and believe you me, it is a daily battle.

Today’s battle was fought in the foyer. Ex.Cite.Ment abounds here at Chez Bang Bang.

But what we came here tonight was to share with you some of Tipsy Bang Bangs TIPS, get it Reader?? Tipsy? Because I have lots of tips and also sometimes I write this while I’m drunky.

Not tonight, though. Tonight I’m hopped up on a careful blend of cinnamon cheerios mixed with fiber one, because we live it up around here. At least with our carefully calculated fiber intake. Mess with my insides in August, 2020, and I’mma double down with fiber intake and new apple cider vinegar gummies, too, we’re not afraid of you (sssshhhh….yes we are, a little bit at least because 2020 is a complete ruthless asshole but we can’t let it think it has the upper hand).

So back to that grout. Sunday Funday.  The Tipsy to cleaning up that grout? Toilet bowl cleaner and a long-handled scrub-brush, Reader.

I present to you my before & after photo journey.

Before: My very dirty cracks.

After:  My white and bright crevices.

Now I’m not sure you can fully experience the awwww factor here, but My Mister and I both stood with our arms wrapped around each other’s waists while we just quietly appreciated the foyer floor.

We. Are. Rockstars. And party like ’em.

At my funeral you’ll all be standing around lamenting the shame of ol’ Trixie never having had the time to get her book written….but you can take comfort in the knowledge she had super clean grout.

So that’ how our Sunday went down here. Throw in scrubbing out six litter pans (also using toilet bowl cleaner, why had I never thought of that before??) and it was quite the day. I hope yours can live up to the bar we’ve set.

Stay tuned, I have another Tipsy Bang Bang tip for you later, but it’s a Tipsy Bang Bang, Beauty Blogger edition. It’ll be worth it or maybe not.

 

 

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This is Me Trying.

So here we go.

I have been spending the past few weeks listening to positive messaging about realigning my vibration to JOY, abundance and attracting all of those things I desire that are just out there floating around in this great big world waiting for me to get the shit out of my own way and finally claim what it is I want and the Universe will open up it’s great doors and just dump it right on my head. Or in my lap. It’s getting dumped on me, once I am open to defining what I want, practicing JOY until it’s just my nature, and then attracting it right to me.

All of this manifesting happens first thing in the morning, before the day has had a chance to sour me. I drink my coffee and listen to a variety of manifesting youtubes, primarily Abraham Hicks, but not limited to, in the event you want to follow my lead on a brand new journey of JOY and are clamoring to know what the what I’m doing. I’m not even sure myself most of the time, Reader, but this particular time I do know.

I emphasize the JOY because this is truly what all the messages center around. For those who know me IRL, you may be thinking, “what the heck is ol’ Trixie blabbing about, she’s chock full o’ nuts joy all the time, smiling and being just annoyingly polly-annaing some of the times.

And I am. Mostly.

But sometimes I’m a whole buncha fuck-you-you-fucking-fucks.

With a whole buncha idiot-racist-bigoted-ignorant-dum-dum-dum-fake-christians-this-fucking-fuck-of-a-president-what-the-fuck-do-you-mean-you-support-him-my-god-enough-already-put-your-fucking-mask-on-there-goes-womens-rights-what-the-fuck-is-going-on-in-your-brain fuckery thrown in.

Those have been a lot of the refrains that ramble through my head through a lot of parts of the day.

Mostly this is because of the news and social media, not improved at all by being mostly still sequestered at Chez Bang Bang with a bunch of wild animals, indoors and out. I’m lacking a lot of interaction with people who bring me JOY and activities that bring me JOY.  Like movies, and concerts, and theater, and travel. The things we are all missing more than half a year into Times of Corona, with truly no end in sight.

So a few weeks ago I just decided to change my vibration and give this morning “meditation” a bit of a go.

And it felt stupid and dumb and oh my God, I’m Stuart Smalley every morning now. If you don’t know Stuart, 1/ we probably can’t be friends anymore and 2/ go. google.

Then. A few weeks in, I started to feel the shift.

Making myself smile for 15 minutes in the morning while I looked up and appreciated the beauty of nature while I sipped my coffee made me more smiley with genuine feelings of appreciation throughout the day.

Even when shit went wrong during the day, which it still does and all the damn time. I have been able to *usually* not get mired down in it, or snap out of it more quickly than before, and reframe the language in my head with more positive words.

When my beloved little leaky 10-year old convertible got sopping wet from heavy rain and I didn’t realize it and it grew mold inside like it was it’s job?

That night? Well, instead of the words that were going through my mind of despair, why-me’s-what-next-haven’t-I-suffered-enough (in my first world problems way), well, I just wiped it off, went to meet my friendie and told myself, “I am so lucky this has an easy solution, I can fix this situation tomorrow because it’s Saturday. Just don’t breathe in right now.” And it’s a good thing I had a mask already, so see there how sometimes life just gives you what you need.

And then that’s what I did. I spent 5 hours the next beautiful Saturday morning scrubbing every last inch with a toothbrush and white distilled vinegar, and I wasn’t even too pissed off about it. It was a thing that happened. And then I fixed it. Mostly. It’s still a work in progress, because why wouldn’t it be, but mostly it’s good and now my car has a really fresh smell of fair-food-french-fries-with-vinegar. That’s what I’m telling myself. My Mister claims it smells like A1 steak sauce in there. It’s a Volkswagen marinade.

I’m only giving that example as to one way my morning meditations have helped. It’s working. A least a bit.

We’re not skipping through life, every day is not blue bonnets and rainbows, but mostly I’m feeling more JOY even when shit is still shit. I’m more smiley. Less doomsday. Things will work out, they generally do. Not always, sometimes the worst happens, but I get to control my attitude about it.

I also get to control the influences I surround myself with, and bring more of the JOYFUL ones towards me, and push away all the bullshit I don’t want crowding my world.

And that’s how I got to the first swatch of cleaning up my social media. If you don’t bring me JOY, if I don’t really know you, if I’ve realized I don’t like knowing you, if I think you’re morally bankrupt and I’d never like to know you again, if we met randomly and somehow we’re now “friends,” if we are probably never going to actually get together IRL again, what are we doing here – well, those were the first, second, third and fourth passes I made cleaning up what I surround myself with. It’s called your Friends list. Not “People Who You Kinda Now Think Are Gross, People Who Annoy You, People You Wanna Punch in the Throat, People You Met Once, People You Would Never Have a Drinkie With” list. So I started to clean it, just like my car, with a little toothbrush and some distilled vinegar to scrub off the dark spots first.

It felt scary, and I was nervous to take such a drastic-in-my-mind-only step. The grip of social media is ridiculous, and real. I didn’t want to hurt people’s feelings. And then I got right-minded. No one’s feelings are going to be hurt by me and social media. Not now, not ever. I don’t have that kind of power. Then, it started to feel good. It felt freeing. That’s when I went deeper with my cleaning.

Now? I’m seeing new things and new people in my newsfeed. Things I like more.  I’m not clicking on political stuff because I don’t want more of that showing up in my feed – I need to change my algorithm. Believe me, it’s difficult to not Like or Share something I believe, too. But no one cares that much. The people who view my shit have their minds made up, and nothing I post is going to sway them one way or another. Not one fact, not one question, not one piece of valid information.  No one cares about my cute-cute-cute pictures of my kittehs, either, but that’s too bad, go clean up your own list and unfriend me, you’re a barbarian if you don’t want this in your newsfeed:

Yes, he put himself to bed like that yesterday. He adorably burrowed under the blanket pile and that’s why he got to shit on me and suffered no repercussions other than being spoken to very sternly.

That’s where we are right now, Reader. Focused on JOY. And changing our algorithm to bring more of what we like and desire into our worlds. Life is unpredictably short. So do what you can to make it deep, joyful and meaningful.

**I was out this evening and when I came home, that cute cute kitteh pictured above jumped on the table in my foyer and proceeded to pee on the floor, then when I hastily tossed him out the front door to finish his pee train, he pooped on the outdoor rug, then my other bad bad kitty peed in the foyer, because why not this is where we go now, and I think I saw a million-legger in the laundry room when I was getting the mop, and I’m going to just ignore and pretend I didn’t see it so I can actually sleep tonight, and let me just say THANK GOD I’VE BEEN MEDITATING OR I WOULD MURDER THINGS. Shew. See. Balanced and JOYFUL. 

 

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