Category Archives: life

If we’re going to be honest here. . .

Here are ten reasons you should probably hate me:

1.)I really liked Prometheus. I thought the visuals were stunning and I was not bothered by what other people perceived as plot holes.  I still watch it again every few months.

2.)I’m the one that gets the toast crumbs in your butter.

3.)Literally NO ONE approves of the way I load a dishwasher. That’s because I think the racks are just suggestions instead of actual boundaries and I feel like if we can send a man to space, we can put plates with giant crumbs on them in a dishwasher.

4.) The back of my entertainment center is dark and full of terrors: it is a snake-mating-ball tangle of wires for various cable boxes and consoles. I don’t even know what some of those cables lead to, but I’m afraid if I unplug any of them, then it’ll start some sort of chain reaction. I have taken pictures of the wire tangle and sent them to techie friends just so I could feed upon their sweet, sweet groans of agony.

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5.) One time when this awful guy would not stop calling me, I picked up the phone and used an unintentionally-crappy fake voice and said “Casey moved to Ohio.”

6.) I tell people I don’t listen to DMB anymore but I totally do. They were my first concert. I lost my virginity to DMB. (Well, not the actual band. They were playing in the background. I’d tell you if it had been the actual band, though. I probably wouldn’t shut up about it.) I still relentlessly judge other people for having shitty music taste though, which includes listening to DMB.

7.) I drink Fireball. I didn’t know that made me a horrible person until Sammi and George pointed it out and, after doing research, I discovered they were right. It’s not like drinking jaeger, but it’s pretty close.

8.)I will also leave just a little sliver of milk in the container. I’ll do it. I will and I won’t even apologize.

9.)I just punched my elderly cat in the nose. It was an accident, but nobody is ever like “oh, okay” when you accidentally punch an old person so it’s basically the same thing.

10.) I’m a keyboard turner.

2014 in review

2014 was a pretty big year for me. I got back down to my college weight – I’d gained a LOT over the past few years due to various medications and the fact that I live five minutes away from the best Thai restaurant in the history of ever. And cheese fries. A lot of the weight was due to cheese fries. But yeah. Lost it all. It’s changed a lot more than my appearance. I have started being a part of the world again, going out and socializing and enjoying life. This was the most revolutionary year I’ve had since I graduated college *coughcough* years ago.

Shitty things also happened. My grandmother died in November, a few weeks after my birthday. I’ve written about that at length elsewhere and I’m honestly all talked out about it, but the world lost a great woman. Then a few weeks after that I ended up with a stress fracture in my tibia and I couldn’t exercise for a while so I gained back some of the weight I lost, which sent me into a downward spiral of EAT ALL THE COOKIES. So I’m up about five pounds now – but I’ll lose it again.

Game of the year – Dragon Age: Inquisition. Hands down. I’m a huge fan of Bioware games anyway, and I loved Dragon Age: Origins and didn’t think any other entry in the series could come close, but. . .I actually think I might like Inquisition a little better than Origins, even.  The open world is so incredibly immersive. It’s better at being Skyrim than Skyrim was. My first playthrough was 170 hours, and I immediately started a new file after I finished because I wasn’t even close to being bored with it yet.

Also after years of waiting I was finally able to romance my handsome blonde knight in shining armor, Cullen:


Bonus picture of my inquisitor, Titania. I wonder if the people in my Thedas ever talk about how weird it is that the Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall, AND the Inquisitor are all dark haired, pale-skinned, green eyed women.


Runner up – Super Smash Brothers Wii U. I don’t have to explain this. It’s Smash Bros. It’s awesome. I think the Wii U gets shit on a lot, and unfairly. If it had better third party support, it would be a fine system. Nintendo makes quality hardware, and quality games. . .but they aim for the family audience rather than the gaming audience. I wish it would work out for them, but I’m not feeling hopeful.

Album of the Year – Rave Tapes by Mogwai. Mogwai creates some of the most atmospheric music ever. It’s great for writing or painting or just flopping on your bed and listening to it.

Comic of the Year – RED SONJA by Gail Simone. Sonja has for a long time been pretty problematic because she’s overly sexualized, running around in a chainmail bikini, but the fabulous Gail Simone took ownership of her and made her into a badass who wears the chainmail bikini just because she is showing off that she’s so badass she doesn’t even need to wear actual armor. There are so many strong female characters in the book.

Also gotta love that Sonja stays drunk and stinky half the time. She’s pretty much my spirit animal.

Oh, Canada!

So earlier this month I went to Canada with my great, graceful, gorgeous friend Sarah. We stayed for a week at a lovely cabin with a private stretch of beach on the shores of “Lake” (that motherfucker is a SEA, thank you) Huron, and it was a magnificent escape from the everyday world. Not that I need to escape from my everyday world, as mine consists of mostly cats and beer, but still – Wide open lavender skies and shimmering waters are a change from cats and beer.

I mean LOOK AT THIS. Have you ever seen a sunset that was so pretty it made you ANGRY? Because I have. This sunset is ridiculous, all "ohh look at me I'm a sunset on a lake I'm going to look like I jumped out of a thrift store painting oooh" Fuck you, sunset.

I mean LOOK AT THIS. Have you ever seen a sunset that was so pretty it made you ANGRY? Because I have. This sunset is ridiculous, all “ohh look at me I’m a sunset on a lake I’m going to look like I jumped out of a thrift store painting oooh” Fuck you, sunset.

We’ve been to this same cabin before a few years previously, but only for a short weekend (still fell in love with the place the first time I stepped foot on the property and realized I could hear waves inside the house, though.)

Even when the sky isn't some ridiculous shade of fuschia, it's still beautiful. I felt like I was one hobbit away from running into elves preparing to sail into the West or something.

Even when the sky isn’t some ridiculous shade of fuschia, it’s still beautiful. I felt like I was one hobbit away from running into elves preparing to sail into the West or something.

Sarah and I have extremely varied interests, but one thing we can agree on is that food is the bee’s knees, so we cooked a lot. I did all the stove cooking, and Sarah did all the grilling. I don’t grill. Every time I even think about grilling, something or someone outside catches on fire. Sarah, however, is some sort of crazy . . . meat sorceress. I marinated lamb chops in garlic, lemon, olive oil, wine and oregano, and she grilled them to perfection.

Sarah doesn't actually drink, but if you're going to be at a grill, you're going to be holding a beer. It just magically appears in your hand.

Sarah doesn’t actually drink, but if you’re going to be at a grill, you’re going to be holding a beer. It just magically appears in your hand.

It was a good time. We did nothing but cook, lay out on the beach all day, read and write and listen to the waves crash against the shore. Why can’t life be like that all the time?

This was the path to the beach. Again, what is with everything here being so ridiculously beautiful? (Not me - the path. I'm sunburned, dumpy thirtysomething wearing a Legend of Zelda t-shirt. I have no illusions about myself.)

This was the path to the beach. Again, what is with everything here being so ridiculously beautiful? (Not me – the path. I’m sunburned, dumpy thirtysomething wearing a Legend of Zelda t-shirt. I have no illusions about myself.)

And this was the trip I learned that you could get a hideous, cancer-causing sunburn on a cloudy day in Canada!

And this was the trip I learned that you could get a hideous, cancer-causing sunburn on a cloudy day in Canada!

The most Canadian picture ever at the duty-free store. We are surrounded by maple products.

The most Canadian picture ever at the duty-free store. We are surrounded by maple products.

Me in my natural state.

Me in my natural state.


Living In the World

A group of friends and I get together sometimes to play games – board games, Dungeons and Dragons (hey don’t you judge me, I am a level 7 6-foot-tall barbarian warrior woman thank-you-very-much), just whatever.

This weekend we played Cards Against Humanity and while we are all hilarious and terrible people, this was by far the best play of the night:


I’ve been doing quite a bit of socializing lately, which is rare for me because I’m kind of a misanthrope. I mean, I guess I’m not really, I just say that – but I enjoy my alone time, okay? My idea of an exciting Friday night is playing Assassin’s Creed multiplayer for three hours straight or putting silly hats on my cat.

427307_3285498624975_389232384_nAnd yet, here I am, living in the world, as a mentor once put it. Putting myself out there. Making myself go to social functions instead of staying home, because ultimately I know I’ll have fun. I think part of my preference for solitude has to do with the fact that for a long time, I felt like I had to make everybody like me, and I was so self-conscious about being weird. I would be so nervous every time I had to hang out with people besides the small group I already knew that I’d just freeze up. Now I’m not too concerned with either of those things. If someone doesn’t like me, someone doesn’t like me – sometimes, people just aren’t going to be into you (no matter how fabulous you are.) It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, it doesn’t mean they’re a bad person. There are endless kinds of personalities out there and endless ways they’re going to come into conflict.

And, well. If someone thinks I’m weird, then they’re probably boring anyway.

Tangentially related, I started up a profile on OKCupid, just because every guy I know is gay or married. Spent a lot of time perfecting the profile and put up a picture where I looked ravishing and sophisticated instead of frizzy-haired and drunk. Logged back in a week later, had thirty messages, and promptly panicked and deleted my profile without even reading any of them. So obviously, I’ve still got some practicing to do on the socializing front, but I’m getting there, right?

A Postpourri

I’ve got a few random pictures to dump on you tonight – a little recap of what I’ve been up to since last we spoke.

posterSo see that rad poster with the bullfighter on it? It’s roughly 40 years old and came directly from Spain. It was my uncle’s, back when they lived in Italy in the 70s. We are cleaning out grandma’s house (which means I also got a buttload of vintage tupperware!), and I saw that poster, fell in love with it, and my uncle very generously let me have it. It’s not the best photo because my hands were shaky, but you get the idea how the beautiful yellow of the poster looks against the blue wall. I don’t know if that’s going to be its permanent home yet, but I like it there for now.

tiramisuI made tiramisu! It’s no bake and INCREDIBLY easy, as long as you know how to separate eggs and have a little electric hand mixer at least. I didn’t know how to separate eggs (I don’t do a lot of baking), and learning was. . .harder than I anticipated, but after I got that sorted out, it was smooth sailing. I got the recipe from here, but I substituted the coffee in the recipe for Godiva chocolate liqueur. It turned out beautifully. Do know that it involves raw eggs though, if you’re not into that.

wreathHow to be crafty, Casey edition: buy some shit at Michael’s, tie it together, hang it on your door. Boom, done. Now give me my show.

In honor of Father’s Day. . .

imageHere’s my dad with his furry little children. He hates cats. Except for that one. And that one. That one, too. Oh, that cat’s pretty cool. Can’t hate THAT cat. . .

Femme Fatality

I always thought I’d be a vixen in my thirties. I’d be past my wide-eyed girlish gawkiness and into the self-assured, easy sensuality of a woman who knows what she wants, what she deserves and how to get it.

(I also thought that I would be 5’7 and living in an ancient English manor, married to minor nobility. I practiced signing “Lady Casey” in fancy cursive a lot.)

Instead, I am a dynamic combination of love handles, vitriol and crippling social anxiety. I am short, cranky, drinky and fighty. Hence I don’t get a lot of exposure to the outside world (and rightfully so.)

The other day, I was looking through the historical fiction aisle of my local used book store and as always, some asshole sidled up to the very same section after I got to browse for a whole three nanoseconds. I hunched my shoulders up Gollum-style and prepared to let out a warning hiss, but — oh ho ho, what have we here? There is a cutie browsing beside me, he’s wearing a Valve t-shirt, and he smells faintly of a sparkling Norwegian spring! As curiosity overrode my irritation, I side-eyed what book he flipped through and saw it was Alaska by James Michener.

I love James Michener.

I love Valve games.

love guys who have blonde hair and neatly-trimmed beards and smell like sparkling Norwegian springs.

I looked down at the books in my basket and decided then and there to put them up because I was obviously going to need to save up for my extravagant seaside wedding to Valve-Shirt-Blond-Beard Guy.

At that point (I had been staring blankly at him for roughly seventeen minutes by then) he looked over at me and smiled, blue eyes crinkling like people’s eyes crinkle when they smile in the movies. Nobody really looks like that when they smile, right? Wrong! BLUE EYES OH MY GOD BLUE EYES, BLOND HAIR, BEARD. I JUST FOUND MY FANTASY NERD VIKING YES THANK YOU LITTLE SWEET BABY JESUS OR KRISHNA OR JEHOVAH OR WHOEVER DID THIS.

He, of course, was praising whatever supernatural being brought us together too. (Or more likely, just staring at the bead of drool that had formed in the corner of my mouth and wondering if I had lost my handler but let me have my dream dammit)

Okay, like I said – and actually, it probably didn’t need to be said, but just in case you don’t pick up on context clues very well – I am extremely socially awkward. Especially around guys. ALWAYS around guys. It’s just that they’re so cute and scary and listen I just haven’t had a whole lot of male influence in my life so I am basically a twelve year old when it comes to men, alright? Anyway: I am Rainman-level socially awkward, but I knew this was probably the part where I was supposed to say something.

So what did I do? I didn’t say “Oh, I see you are also a fan of James Michener and his sweeping historical epics. I, being an astute and well-read woman, find his novels quite enjoyable and would like to discuss them over craft beer and/or sex with you.” I didn’t say “Brains and beauty? Sign me up, hottie!” I didn’t even say “hi.”

My inner monologue went thusly: Compliment him on his shirt compliment him on his shirt say something don’t just stare like some weirdo compliment him on his shirt you like Valve but oh god what if he’s wearing that shirt ironically and hates video games and video game culture then he’s just going to think you’re a dumbass okay so compliment him on his hair instead wait no that’s really fucking creepy just compliment him on his shirt and hope for the best and okay wait no ask him if he’s read James Michener before! Talk about how you love what great condition the books are in here! SMILE for chrissake oh god but not that wide you’re showing more gum than tooth he’s going to think you’re some sort of hill person!

“Buh,” is what finally came out. I don’t want to say that’s what I said, because saying implies that there were words, when this was really more of a guttural, cornered-animal whimper.

Buh. Christ.

Now listen, I have won awards for my writing. I can pull $10 words out of the air and string them up on a page and make it look like art. You make me speak though, and I come up with real gems like buh.

Fucking buh. Really? Use your words, Casey.

“I’m sorry?” he said, smile fading a little, eyes darting around the room. Oh yeah. Totally scanning the room for my handler.

“I, um–your shirt. It’s cool,” I squeaked out, immediately becoming fascinated with the tiled floor below my feet. I had made the transformation from 32-year-old woman to 14-year-old boy almost effortlessly. I’m basically Harry Potter. Give me my god damn wand, thank you.

“Oh,” he said after a minute, looking down at his shirt. “Thanks.”

“Haha yeah, no problem! Bye!”

I didn’t even look back as I fled the scene.

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So if you were accosted by a woman in a used book store this weekend, I’m sorry. I really did like your shirt and your choice of books, and I don’t really need a handler.

Sweet dreams are most definitely not made of these.

I have not been getting enough sleep lately, even for me, and I didn’t manage to get to bed until 5 am this morning (again). I am naturally inclined toward having weird dreams, and when I don’t get sleep they end up being batshit insane. The first one I had was some sort of Disney World ride through this really awesome 80s space station. In the dream, this space station was one of my favorite rides growing up, and missed it terribly since it had closed. So my ‘cousin’ (I do not know anyone resembling this person) worked there and was able to open the ride back up for me. But I’d spent so long in there that I was afraid I was locked in and BECAUSE of that, I was certain she had died. Dream logic, right? I guess the thing is there was just such a menacing overtone to it, made all the more so because it’s juxtaposed against the innocence of revisiting happy childhood memories.

Then I woke up because my sleeping cat had juxtaposed his ass against my face.

After I swatted him away and went back to sleep I dreamed that I was dying of tuberculosis (I guess because my giant cat was smothering me with his butt) and all of my family had either died in an accident on a ride through an 80s space station in Disney World (What? Whoa! Cue the ominous music!) or had abandoned me (those jerks), but a guy friend stayed with me to take care of me in my last days AND I TOTALLY DIED IN THE MIDDLE OF GASPING AND COUGHING UP BLOOD AND WRITING THAT DUDE A LETTER ABOUT HOW MUCH HE MEANT TO ME! You can die in dreams! Eat it, Hollywood! And then the dream took a bizarre, fourth-wall breaking turn and I (not dream me who was younger and a little different looking – real, typing-this-right-now me) was hovering above my corpse, and I (Real Me) was like “whoa, I just died! I better wake up before he gets me!” and so I did.

I don’t know who “he” is but I was pretty terrified in the dream at the prospect of him catching me, so that is some Japanese horror film bullshit right there.

The parking lot at work was surprisingly empty and Silent Hillesque when I got here this morning. I could be in purgatory, I suppose. Blogging, even from the afterlife. That’s me.

Incidentally, now my neighbor’s kindly boyfriend thinks I’m a lunatic because he came across me this morning as I was getting toilet paper off the bottom of my shoe and muttering “whoaaa, glitch in the matrix, glitch in the matrix,” but joke’s on him because I wasn’t saying that because of the toilet paper, I was saying it because I wanted to remember to put it in this post but now I don’t even remember why, gosh.