Category Archives: Crazy

How to Properly Hate the New Administration.

I need to find a constructive way to channel my anger. More constructive, that is, than daily insulting Tweets aimed at Trump and occasional baiting of vocal white supremacists online. It’s not wrong to do those things, exactly – but those activities don’t have any real impact. I may as well stroll pass the white house and give Donald the finger.

Oh! I have relevant media to share! Here are a few non-violent ways to express yourself in the coming weeks and months.

 

Also, call your representatives and let them know what you’d like them to do. Thank them when they do their job. We’ll all get through this together.

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Words You May Use To Describe Me

If a member of the press asks you to answer questions about me, I hereby authorize the following descriptive terms. Be sure to pepper any list of my vast, impressive accomplishments with astonished references to my humility. I thank you. ~kc

  • Diabolical Villainess
  • Wealthy Socialite
  • Coffee-Loving
  • Shapely
  • Comely
  • Any other adjective ending with -ly
  • Whip-Smart
  • Survival-Oriented
  • Well-Accessorized
  • Brilliant Light in a Dark World
  • A Book-Smart Dame With Legs That Go For Miles
  • A Leggy Dame with Brains That Go For Miles
  • A Smiley Dame With Gams That Belie Her Braininess
  • The Brainy Gam Lady
  • Humble, To a Fault

 

It’s Winter in Boston. Time to Crack UP.

Screen Shot 2015-02-06 at 1.20.36 AMThat special time is here! Bring on the Netflix and red wine! It’s time for the cold and snow of winter to finally push me to my breaking point.

The end of my driveway is marked on either side by an 8-foot hill of frozen, dirty snow that extends 7 feet into the road. The driveway mounds are massive. There could be people in there, in all honesty. In order to get out of my driveway, I need to maneuver carefully around those monsters with a 12-point white-knuckled blind turn.

What is the rational response to this frigid claustrophobia? I don’t know, but my irrational response is impotent rage. I’ve kept it under wraps so far, but my inner monologue goes like this: “Ngahhh! Beep-beep! Whores!! Hatehatehate!”

I want you to find a recent weather map. Got it? Ok – Is it just me or does some angry god have a vendetta against the Boston area? It just keeps coming, and every storm is aimed at us. Also note that we have a charming historic transit system that breaks down in the cold, just like it did in 1897. History comes to life!

There is nowhere to put this snow. Nowhere. This much is clear. You can shovel snow and throw it on top of the nearest snow mound, only to have it roll off the mound and back down to your feet, as if to mock you. I waved to my elderly neighbor yesterday as he essentially poked weakly at the end of his own 8-foot driveway mound with a shovel. I felt sad for him. For all of us.

It’s cold. It’s going to get colder, somehow. And the weather people show open disdain for commoners like me . I read headlines like “Think It’s Cold? Just Wait ‘Til You See What We Have in Store For the Weekend!” Fuck you, cheerful weather man. Right in the eye. Right. In. The. Eye.

Also, I’m trying to write a screenplay that tells the story of a depressed, recently divorced woman and her miserable winter in Boston. It’s a dark comedy. Write what you know, they say.

I apologize for the rant. And for the weirdness. I stand by the weather man thing, though.

The Murderous, Boring, Beige Moods Of January

I want to say something about the bleak days of January. But damn it, that’s a hard thing to do when all you want to do is lie on your couch in a fleece space suit watching Investigation Discovery and tossing Trader Joes’ Cheese puffs into your food hole.

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Winter Solstice: Celebrate Another Year of Not Going Postal (Yet)

It’s the day after the winter solstice, which — if you’re anything like me —traditionally represents the height of your winter madness and the rock-bottom of your deeply-dug “I-Hate-People” hole.

But I feel pretty ok. And it’s not because something particularly glittery or exciting has occurred in my life. Life keeps pooping along like it always does. And I’m not feeling joyous or running through the streets of Boston throwing tinsel and anything that can be tinseled. I’m still anti-tinsel. It’s not holiday mania, in other words. But I feel ok, and that is kind of remarkable.

For the last few years, I have faked my way through the holidays like a champ. I was still working on getting myself settled and divorced and yes, probably hoping that by the next Christmas my cup would run over with joy. And now I’m here. My cup runneth over with “just ok.” Or maybe my cup just runneth not with misery. My cup is legitimately fine, thank you.

Enough about my cup.

This perfect little illustration describes how I feel right now (Not mine, but borrowed from Hyperbole and a Half — a wonderful blog that I can’t recommend enough).

hyperboleandahalf

I’m feeling empowered by my state in life. Which is weird because I don’t have a lot of the stuff I’m “supposed” to have locked in. (relationship, mortgage, kids, clear sense of exactly what the rest of my life will look like, an unbroken door handle on my car, etc.) I feel like I either:

A. Accidentally stumbled upon the secret to happiness, which is to fail at life and figure out what you want.; or

B. Hit my head and am in a drug-induced coma, so none of this is actually real.

Either way, I’m just going with it. Next week, life will probably kick my ass just for being so damned cocky.

How are you all? Doing ok?