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The Bang Bang Theories

Best Thing At The Party

First, Reader, let’s talk about THE MOST IMPORTANT THING RIGHT NOW.

Swizzie’s 24-hour release of You’re Losing Me.

Stop. You’re getting me all in the feelings, Tay! Like 17-year old me going through her first heartache, and I don’t even care about you breaking up with Joe, because you’re T-Swiz and are going to be just fine, but yeah, this song I care all about it now and he should have just stopped because you probably WERE the best thing at the party because I wasn’t there.


Now that we’ve covered that.

Let’s look at how the foliage has covered in my backyard so far.

Pretty obscure, TG (thank garth).

I ordered and just received a giant curtain rod to install on the downstairs patio because I really do not like to wear clothes in the hot tub and while that was all well and good in February and March when it was dark o’clock and no one could see me from across the ravine, this time of year may hit it a little bit differently.

We have our Hillbilly HotTub emptied and need to give it a good scrubbing and clean up that patio a bit. There is just never enough time in the weekend and I’m getting a little anxious feeling that the SUMMER IS GONE ALREADY and I’ve accomplished NOTHING!

I need to get out my big calendar and start planning out my months like a crazy person; it will be the only way I don’t squander my summer doing nothing.

This Memorial Weekend has been filled with a lot of people-ing. I enjoy people, but I’ve had a lot of it and that’s why my mulch isn’t fully spread in the front flowerbeds yet.

But a couple of my girlz and I went to a new brekky spot yesterday, to celebrate their upcoming June b-days…

…and I saw a building I’ve never before seen with my very own eyes, and lemme tell you, those Olden Days Folks built some rather majestic buildings.

That’s just a simple ol’ library with it’s fancy columns to hold up all the Things That Are Gonna Get Banned If We Don’t VOTE These Nutz Out!  Fahrenheit 451, Reader!

Stop. You’re losing me, Nutzo’s who wanna ban books but not guns. I haven’t heard kids being required to take active book drills, yet here we are, afraid for the youth maybe reading about olden day 1970’s girl’s periods and haffing to understand a menstrual belt.

Girls need to understand how good they’ve got it nowadays and protect their rights, before they lose all control of their v’s, and can’t even file for a damn no-fault divorce when they make a bad mistake and need to rise from the ashes and just should stick to not being the marrying kind, like me and T-Swizzle. We’re same-sies.

T-Swiz got me all rattled up this morning, apparently. I don’t ever even know what I’m going to type up here, and today it’s just a bag of mixed nuts.

At the beginning of 2022, I created a vision board and plopped a photo of a pontoon boat on that board, as that was part of my Summer Fun Visions and it never came to fruition last year because see above, how if I don’t plan out my time, it runs right ahead without me. But TODAY! It’s a new day! And our friends who apparently know how and where to Pontoon, have rented a boat and we are getting our asses out on it this afternoon. I’m up earlier than my usual on a day off to plan for that accordingly. I may go throw two bags of mulch down beforehand, just to feel I’ve checked off a chore. That’s actually one of my personality issues (one of many, I know Reader, I know), where nothing feels important unless it’s a Task or Chore and those have to get accomplished before anything else.

While I hate to blame the parents for that, it really does stem back to your raising, and what was praised and rewarded. Cleaning my bedroom, doing dishes, dusting, vacuuming – all those things received a lot more noteworthy mention than oh, say, when I wrote a short story in sixth grade and it was selected for a writing contest entry by my teacher.

That was just glossed over, and to this day I can’t even tell you how that story did – I think it was 2nd or 3rd place – but it was just a flick of passing in my middle school life and that’s what I blame on not being a writer now, so thanks a lot Dead Mom & Dead Dad, and why instead I’m obsessing that I need to get up and mulch right after this.

I can buy all the coffee mug reminders I want, but if I don’t actually prioritize doing something CREATIVE, it’ll all just be mulch and messy floors.

Because let’s face facts, while I grew up getting Chore-Rewarded, somewhere in my adulthood it’s become less rewarding and more just chore and also I blame my six three a-hole cats who #1. throw up somewhere every day #2. pee somewhere not in their litter box every day #3 kick all my stuff off counters and tables every day #4. may or may not run and poop because he needs momentum to get his constipated ass in gear #5. leave their hair everywhere and #6. generally just create filth and mayhem.

It’s a full-time job, and I need to make a Chore List for the ones who will be left behind starting next Saturday, when I set sail to the Caribbean with my friendie. I don’t believe deep in my core that the two men who live here know exactly how much tidy-ing and scooping of the poop and generally wiping up I do on a daily basis. It’s going to be on a list with their little names written next to the chore board and I don’t give any fucks if it crushes their creativity because mine was crushed and I’m doing just FINE. Ahem.

On that note, I’ve gotta Stop. You’re losing me. To the mulching and the general floor cleaning before I havta get ready for the pontoon.


Into a Moment of Time

I’m not even going to talk about how long it’s been since we’ve been together here, Reader. Not. Even. Gonna. Mention. It.


No mentioning.

Let’s just pretend we chatted yesterday.

My computer was at the doctors. It had a Mac Attack of some sort and needed the specialist. Luckily I know The Doctor.


I’m going to describe exactly what is happening to you right now so you can feel like you’re here with me at Chez Bang Bang.

I’m drinking alone and I am not even going to let you make me feel judged about it, because this red is so damn delicious and also so what. Drinking home alone became the new going out to bars and drinking with strangers. Thanks again, Covid. But really, thanks, because I’m now considered part of the damn solution ~raises fist in solidarity with the cats~  when I stay home on Friday night and drink wine in my pajamas and not a nerdy dork who doesn’t have a friend or a date.

This will come as a surprise, but I’m listening to T. Swizzie, the SAME. SONG. ON. REPEAT. and I’m feeling young and first love-y and bluesy like a girl who’s over her old lover but also not really over it or we won’t be feeling all the feels and singing into our wine glass and making the cat be our reluctant dance partner**.

**cat scratches are love tattoos. 

    End Sidebar.

Anyway… I’m just trying to get back into seeing stories everywhere I look and sharing them with you.  I know I say that. A lot. But!  I recently received one of the best surprises from my most generously-loving-towards-me-and-I’m-not-even-sure-why-or-that-I-deserve-it cousins, a book that has told me that I OWE IT TO MYSELF and THE ENTIRE WORLD to practice writing every single day and I had my AhHa! moment. This is where I practice telling stories.

Sometimes the sentences really struggle to find their way to my fingers.

Sometimes the stories write themselves.

Almost all the time I don’t exactly know what we’re going to talk about. I consider my rambling ways part of my charm. Don’t try to make it a negative, Reader. I’ve been following all of the Be Best gurus out there and I’m high-fiving myself (and then I’m immediately annoyed that the mirror has a giant man-hand print on it that I NOW have to clean off), body-positiving myself and working on good habits and also want to practice in order to do a headstand as part of my 2022 goals.

I’ve never before ever in my life done a headstand.  Ever; not eight-years-old-and-bones-are-probably-still-soft me; not fifteen-and-bendy-year-old-teen-me,

And so just now I’ve bowed to Almighty Google to ask a question on headstand vs. handstand and listen to me now and hear me later, Reader: I will never attempt a headstand.

To quote on the cons of a headstand: if you somehow manage to fall out of the inversion, you’re risking a very serious injury.

Every single indicator points to I WILL FALL OUT OF THE INVERSION, should I ever make it into the inversion.

So scratch that off the list, Awful Dumb 2022 Goal.

Don’t fret, Reader. I still have a laundry list of equally hard-to-achieve but probably won’t paralyze me goals on my To Goal list.

I started to list them in numerical order; however no one actually gives a shit about my goals except me and that’s not even all the time. And also I don’t need you feeling badly about yourself for only maybe having a goal of to try all the new Oreo flavors, and dammit, why didn’t I put that on MY list??

I typed that like that was a bad goal. Apologies, Nabisco. It’s a solid goal and supports the Vegans.

That’s where we are going to leave things tonight, Reader. I’ve moved on to T-Swifftee’s Evermore and now I’m closing out Folklore and I need to go and braid my hair and weep.

*title of post may or may not be a lyric from a song by TWIZZLE. I’m dropping my own easter eggs or something here. 





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