Life's A Bitch Sometimes

And that's pretty much the one truth of the universe. Life sucks, and then one day we die, and hope the afterlife doesn't suck too. I mean, really. Wouldn't that just suck ass?

You get to heaven to find out that the rules there are nothing like you thought they would be? No happiness forever, but instead living by some crazy ancient codes of conduct that involve you being forced to do absoultely nothing, not even play, on Sunday's, and you can't eat most foods...

Or for the majority of people, you get there and find out that the Muslims or the Jews had it right and you were the one worshipping the wrong god. Or, an even bigger blow! You "wake up" on the shores of a river and don't have the money to get across, and when you finally beg your way, this guy won't let you through the gate!

The three heads of Cerberus: Serious Bidniss, Apathy, and OHHAIIDARE!

No, but seriously, this post isn't about me being all emo some more. Pfft, I'm over that shit now. I'm doing my best to be happy, fuck it all and to hell with my depression. This post is about life sucking for other people, most specifically these two.

These guys are friends of mine and the Hedgehog, they've come up in at least one post before... I'll get that picture, too. Mostly so you can see the difference between pictures and such.

See, they're engaged, and back when I first met them lived together in Charlotte going to a graphics school. They're great, absolutely great, funny and kinda awesome, and we can talk for hours about nothing. It's cool being able to be friends with another couple, and it's probably one of the benefits of having a girlfriend that the Hedgehog didn't think of...? I mean, people change when they're in relationships that last longer, and guys especially, and suddenly you can't just hang out with your single friends because you realize they're crazy as shit.

For me though, it's nice being able to be friends with someone who's friends with my Hedgehog, I get to know more about him, since he's not the kind to really talk about himself much.

Anyway, onto the sucky part. So despite being sweet and awesome, she... Wait, I really need names for them if I'm going to keep going with this... Um... Dammit.

I could call her Giggles, because she laughs easily, but that makes me feel like an idiot, and... I am not, I repeat NOT, calling him Ginger. Screw that... I normally give people nicknames I either call them in real life or that they kinda earn by being themselves. So I guess I can't name them just yet...

Anyway, they were staying with his mom down here because she got kicked out of her mom's house, and despite cooking and cleaning, his mom said she didn't do anything around the house and kicked her out. That's the short of it at least, the long involves them being held hostage for five hours while his mom demanded his fiancee's engagement ring...

So now they're both staying with us. Currently sleeping on the floor to be precise. I've been there before, so I know the blow to your pride you get... Hopefully we can get them up on their feet soon... Now to get back to looking for a job.

The Weekly Kit: Gingerbread Kit

I'm a cookie!

The Weekly Kit: Knitting Kit

I'm working on your Christmas present!

Diabolical Diabotical Diabetic

The other night the Hedgehog tried to say diabolical... and it came out diabotical; so then he rolled with it, and now we have this: an angry robot made of sugar.

Check Out This Cake!

So I've been hard at work on the Oh Bento! comic this weekend and all of today... Some funny stuff has happened, but honestly? The Hedgehog is funny so often that it's hard to pick something that he does and do a post about it... not to mention a lot of it is weird humor you just have to be there for it. Some of it is even hard to remember afterwards, no matter how hard I laughed at the time... So, instead... Here's something I worked hard on for the webcomic for you guys to enjoy.

Accidental Stalkers

So one night me and the Hedgehog left the apartment right behind this other couple; it was cold, so we were all in hoodies with the hoods up. They were on the other side of the parking lot by the time we left, so they were far enough away that I didn’t think anything and laughing or joking with the Hedgehog.

Apparently this was my first mistake.

As we walked, I noticed the guy ahead of us nudge his girl and look back at us, as if pointing out our presence; I laughed about this at the time because, well… Did they really think we were stalking them? We just happened to be walking down the same road, they were way ahead of us, and despite the fact we were in a hurry, we weren’t terribly close to them despite walking slightly faster; they were still a whole parking lot length away.

Well, by the time we reached East Coast Wings, it was confirmed: they thought we were muggers. Suddenly both of them veered off and went into the restaurant, and as we passed by I looked over to watch the both of them walking back out. For a while they walked behind us, but apparently we freaked them out still, because they darted across the road… at the same time we needed to cross the road…

Dynamite In A Biscuit

"French food: it's dynamite in a biscuit." -  The Blonde One

I AM HAPPY CHEESE!

The other night the Hedgehog and I were eating grapes and cheese and watching In The Name of The King... While he wasn't looking I took the tip of the knife and carved this happy face into a chunk of cheese... Then turned and shoved it in his face while yelling, "I AM HAPPY CHEESE!"

Bonus Kit: Hot Chocolate Kit

... Not sure if this is appropriate, cause... you know... I'm naked...

The Weekly Kit: First Aid Kit

Lemme make your boo-boos better.

My Drunken Post

Well, tonight me and the Hedgehog finally celebrate my 21st birthday… by making drinks from the Drunken Moogle. Come on, I mean, video game inspired drinks? And us being huge ass nerds? Hells yeah we’re gonna drink video game inspired cocktails! If I’m drinking it’s gonna be that!

We tried the Anti-Sora drink… The Hedgehog liked it, but I hate grape, so… And there was this Gears of War drink with Cheerwine… but there was too much vodka… It was way too bitter.

The Pokemon drinks are awesome, though. The Squirtle shot was intense, but coconuty afterwards, and the Wartortle was… Yummy.

So far I’m feeling pretty good, not too fuzzy in the head. We’re watching Troy, only I keep sprouting all sorts of mythology. Curse you mythology class and my own paganism and love of mythology! Curse you and my now fuzzy arms!

Okay, so I’m starting to feel a little weird now… I’ve drank alcohol before, and I can honestly say: I like the warmth, I hate the way it makes my body feel. The first time I drank anything my dad offered me some cheap red wine. That stuff tasted like what it was: rotten grapes and moldy old bread. I had some pink champagne when my cousin got married, too… it was bitter. On my 18th birthday me and Jess split a bottle of Smirnoff, and another time we drank Mike’s Hard Lemonade. I didn’t finish all mine, and when I went home the next day the Girl-Fiend spiked it with vodka and I finished it. I got past giggly and all the way to sits-there-and-stares. That was when my dad was in jail.

Another time me and Lulu split a six pack of mango stuff. She had to make me drink a second bottle because apparently when I start drinking I don’t like to keep drinking. It makes my chest feel uncomfortable and my uterus gets all hot and angry, then my jaws feel funny… Finally I’ll feel normal, but that’s only after I get buzzed, and then I still feel kinda odd in my muscles. Oh! And on Thanksgiving last year I drank a little too, the Girl-Fiend made me do it. Spiked my drink.



Well, apparently I’m okay enough to type. So…

Cerberus

Seriously. I Have The Best Boyfriend. Ever.

So when the Hedgehog came home, he looked like he was preggers, and told me to turn around. So I did. Then he told me to cover my eyes, so I did… then he said to put my head in a pillow… so I did. It took him a bit, but finally I was allowed to turn around, and when I did he had a cake in one hand and a giant Simba plush in the other. Also, he had a new book: The Red Pyramid.

Once, I told him this story about how when I was two I had this baby Simba plush that I loved to death; I carried it everywhere, and then one day I left it over at my dad’s boss lady’s house because she used to watch me while he worked, and I never got it back. See, dad quit his job and went to work with the lady’s husband. The fact the Hedgehog remembered this story and brought me the plush just… it…

Made me the happiest Kit ever.

Book Time with Kit

On the day of my 21st birthday, I did not drink… I nuzzled under covers with a good book and read; I had to finish Sea of Monsters. Rick Riordan is one of my most favorite authors ever.

FUDGE! I Thought You Sounded Familiar

So when I got home from lunch it was to find Hunny’s mom had sent me a message saying my dad had gone over to her house and had left his phone number… Considering I hadn’t talked to my dad since before I moved here in May, only a few days after his birthday, I was shocked. I mean, things have been difficult with my dad since I stopped living at home, and that was more than a year before I had moved in with the Hedgehog anyway. We're talking back before I still lived with the Home. In fact, at one point, I had told him that, unless he came to look for me, he might as well not even consider himself a father anymore because he certainly wasn’t acting like one.

Trust me, it was a hard thing to say, but it needed to be said. It was hard to get out, too, because my dad has these huge brown puppy eyes that just stare right into the soul, and it breaks my heart when he looks at me like that; almost every time he gives me that look it’s accompanied with the phrase, “You know I love you, right?”

Only the thing is… I don’t. Ever since the Girl-Fiend came along my dad hasn’t been himself… Sure he was the dad who let me go play in the street and run the neighborhood at the age of four, but he was also the same dad who promised me after mom died that, “I may whore around a little, but I’ll never marry another woman.”

Yeah right, dad. There’s something called common law marriage. You two have been together six years now. It’s official, you’re married to her.

Anyway, now he’s the dad who chooses his girlfriend over his daughter and who also does things like... gives away his daughter's dog without telling her; so of course I was surprised when suddenly he wanted to talk to me after seven months of silence. We talked for a little bit and he gave me my grandparents phone number so I could talk to them, but considering I know they hate me I don’t expect a call back on that message I left them. Mostly he just said he was thinking about me and missing me, and I told him about the blog and how that was the best way to check up on my nowadays…

The sad thing is, I think it was more guilt than love that inspired him to look for me; and you know what? Guilt is almost as good as love, so I’ll take it.

The funny part of this post, however, stems from the part where I went to call my grandparents and accidentally called him back…

Me: Hello?
Dad: Hi.
Me: It’s me, Kit.
Dad: I know.
Me: Dad told me to call.
Dad: I am dad.
Kit. FUDGE! I thought you sounded familiar!

Geeze Lady, Stalk Much?

I swear, the Hedgehog’s boss is a stalker… While we were out having my birthday lunch at this really awesome Mexican place with amazing food, which was only happening because he had to go in at 5’o clock despite having asked for that day off in advance, the phone rang… and rang… and rang… Finally I snapped at him and told him to answer it. Guess what? It was his boss lady… and she wanted him to come in an hour early. Oh, it gets worse, too… She said if he hadn’t answered the phone, she would’ve sent someone over to the apartment to get him.

No one would've been home, anyway...

The Dog Intelligence Test

So me and the Hedgehog were talking about the thoughts that must go through a dog as they’re failing the Dog Intelligence Test… It started off with what they would think when the blanket went over them,

"Where'd I go?"

"I only have one question: Do I eat the cup first?"

And it ended the cup test, where you put a dog treat under a cup, when the Hedgehog said something so funny that I laughed so hard I drooled on his head.

My Awesome Birthday Story

My mom used to tell me a really pretty story about how I was born; or, at least pretty as far as my mom was concerned. She was a really blunt woman who never beat around the bush and said things the way they were; the result is that she tried to tell a pretty little tale, but a few weird details kept sneaking in there that just sort of… added a sense of wrongness. So here is my story the way my mom used to tell it to me, with pictures drawn by me.

“I wanted a little girl so badly, I used to pray all the time. ‘Please God, just give me a little girl.’ Every day I would pray, I wanted you so badly. A little girl I could  love and dress up and take care of. And then one day I was outside, looking up at the sky, wishing on the stars for you, and I saw it: a shooting star. I closed my eyes and I wished so badly for you. ‘Please, please give me a little girl. It’s all I want.’ A few weeks later, I was pregnant with you.

“See, me and your daddy had been trying for a while to get pregnant again after we had to give up your brother; we wanted a child of our own, and I’d  always wanted a little girl. I didn’t have it so easy growing up, and I told myself that I would be better than my mom. I would give you everything you wanted, and we’d be happy. I’ve tried my damndest, too. It’s hard, though…

“Anyway. You were supposed to be born on the 22nd, but when it go close, I just couldn’t wait anymore. I wanted you right then, I wanted you now. So I took some castor oil and mixed it with ketchup  and drank it, and it wasn’t  an hour later I started going into contractions. I was in labor with you for hours, but it didn’t hurt that much, honestly. I could’ve given birth to you myself if I hadn’t already had a c-section with your brother. The only bad thing is I was in labor so long you were born on your aunt’s birthday…”

The face of pure evil...

Yeah, she’d get derailed by that and the cute little story would normally venture off, though sometimes she’d stay on track long enough to tell me, “And when I saw you and held you in my arms, I loved you instantly.”

My dad? When I was little he told me, “When you were born, you farted so hard you flew around the room like a rocket and landed in my arms.”

When I got older, after my mom died, he broke it to me straight: “Your mom forced you out two weeks early because she couldn’t wait another two more weeks to start drinking again… and maybe she wanted to see you, too.”

Thanks for shattering my dreams, dad…

Butter Dean

It’s a well known fact around our apartment that Paula Dean scares me.

I'm Paula Dean, ya'll!

On television there’s nothing wrong with the Butter lady, except maybe her addiction to butter.

Come on, people! She makes cakes that call for two and half cups of butter, and puts at least two tablespoons in everything! She has something called Gooey Butter Cake that is essentially a pile of buttery pudding that used to be cake mix! That isn't to say her food probably doesn't taste good, and I'm sure it does, and I don't hate her as a person, it's just that, well... her face is terrifying.

I mean, I’ve been made fun of in the past for being like her; it’s the curse of being a southern cook. Making veggies? Tablespoon of butter. Making rice? Two tablespoons. Making a grilled cheese? Butter for the pan and some Duke's mayonaise on the inside for flavor. Making a homemade cake? Melted butter for that. Making my famous cookies? Well, I use oil and honey... Frying eggs? Okay, I use olive oil.

I've got some confused DNA...

Hey, I’m part Italian, too. (And Irish and Romani and Native American and Swedish and German…)

"All this cake took was two cups of butter and your soul."

Anyway, Paula seems like she’s a nice lady on tv, but her magazines all have her with these perfectly white, straight, teeth and these wide pale blue eyes; the result is a set of soul stealing eyes and teeth that look set to rend your flesh from their very bones. I die a little inside every time I look at her that way; and I know she doesn’t look that way,  because if you catch a picture of her when her face is too far back, you can see that she has normal blue eyes, and on her cookware you can even see normal colored teeth that are slightly crooked in the front and natural.

Butter face terries me. Sorry guys, I’ll come up with a butter pun next time. Pfft…

Moving right along… Last night I made veggies for dinner, and the Hedgehog said, “Alright now, Paula  Dean.” Well, when I went to reply back to him, I accidently called her “Butter Dean”… Not one to let me live anything down (he certainly never let me live down “fub” or “bake-ed”), the Hedgehog informed me that my new nickname was Butter Dean.

I promptly died.

And then he made butter puns for the next ten minutes, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him for this.

"You'll change your mind once I butter you up."

I Am Traffic Cone!

I dare you to hit me. I. AM. TRAFFIC CONE!

Today me and the Hedgehog decided we would walk all the way to Wal-Mart because he was bored and I had stayed up all night and needed physical exercise to make it 'till bedtime; it's something we do pretty often, but don't think  much of. Well, it was raining, and this definitely made a difference.

Thing is, it wasn't raining that hard when we left, so I only wore a hoodie and took along my obnoxious orange poncho in my pouch; halfway there the heavens opened up and so much rain issued forth I was soaked before the poncho went on; for the rest of the day my attitude changed: I hate being wet, particularly cold and wet. When we walked down the side of the road, I silently defied every single car to run me over, thinking to myself, "Bitch better recognize. I AM traffic cone!"

Every time they successfully made it past me, while I was still glaring defiantly at their vehicles, I would smirk to myself and think, "Pfft, that's what I thought... bitch." This isn't the first time a decidedly ghetto temper has made it's way into my actions; and no, before you go thinking I mean ghetto like black person, think to yourself about every person you've ever seen come from a tough neighborhood, no matter their race. There's a certain accent and manner you acquire... I had that manner, the attitude, and the accent; and it happens a lot when I get mad.