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.

I Had a Thought

My art is gonna suck until I relearn this...

This might not come as a surprise to a lot of you, but... I think I've been depressed. All this time, without me knowing it, I've been toeing the line on depression, and I had no idea. It explains a lot... I kept trying to be normal, but it kept backfiring: I got absorbed with the internet and neglected everything as a way to pretend my problems weren't there, and the blog was sorta like... this crazy way for me to TRY to do something good and normal, but at the same time, it too was backfiring at me.

I started treating the blog like this whole crazy job. If I could post a day, then I was normal. It explains why I suddenly stopped: days were adding up, the longer without, the less normal I felt, the harder it was to pretend... But I think I'm okay now. I talked with the Hedgehog, played a little bit of FF XII, wrote a little, and even cleaned up the apartment all on my own because I wanted to.

Afterwards I felt kind of... refreshed and cleansed, and happy, like I'd cleaned myself. I think I'm gonna try again, but it's gonna be some slow work...

But I still have a long way to go before I'm ever "normal". You just don't go through what I did growing up and come out the otherside normal. Sure, I put on my brave face and act fine, but I'm pretty damaged in the head, and I don't think any amount of acting is gonna cover that. I've been betrayed and abandoned, hurt and abused, and despite learning to survive, I never learned how to live. I don't know how to laugh and smile around strangers, I don't know how to walk out into the world on my own, at least not without someone beside me or some kind of crazy stubborn/prideful streak driving me to do it.

So I'm gonna start over again, from the top, starting slow. No rushing in. Just you, me, this blog, and me trying to be funny and trying to get a job. And maybe a haircut, because seriously, look at my hair now, and look at my hair from my first post... that is realtime hair growth, people.

The Weekly Kit: Gingerbread Kit

I'm a cookie!

The Girl-Fiend

So I called my dad to talk to him and instead got the Girl-Fiend… She was nice, polite, sweet… That’s when I remembered that she’s not all bad all the time, she’s only unbearable half the time. You know, when she’s not purposely trying to get under your skin by doing things like… making two boxes of pizza rolls and forcing them on you and your friends, and then later claiming that you ate both of them without her permission and refused to share…

Dynamite In A Biscuit

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

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.

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!

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…

Today: Taco Kit

Having the nickname of Kit can be hilarious: every time you go out, you see something or another kit. Well, from now on, every Wednesday on my blog, I will have a picture of me being whatever that is.

This week?

Your argument is invalid, I am a taco.

Taco Kit.

Bride Prices

So this past weekend, me, Ciel, Lulu, and Hunny decided that if we had bride prices back in a village before modern civilizations what they would be, and this is what we've got:

Hunny: We decided that her mom would probably be ruler of the village somehow, and with her multiple skills she would be a desirable bride, so she has:

 Three working horses and a herd of cattle.


Ciel, comprised almost entirely of cuteness, has been gifted with such:

A hutch of bunnies, two baskets of chicks, two spring chickens, and a baby pig.



Apparently thanks to my skills at awesome, mine is the following:

A sow, three chickens, a mule, and a few cows.

Finally Lulu, for being talented in many ways and also because in our imagined village she was the daughter of the most amazing family of farmers known for growing squash and melons of outrageous sizes:

Two stallions horses, three milking cows, and a handful of chickens.

We totally expect you to pay those before you're allowed to marry us, too, so...

Now 10x Cuter

My little sis Hunny has always been super cute and adorable, so much so that  I suspect when she was born the gods got together to make the most adorable human ever..

Yesterday she got her hair cut, and something weird happened...

She was ten times cuter  than before,  something that should have been physically impossible! In my head I imagined a meeting between all the gods of every pantheon where they decided that the must make her even cuter than ever!

SHE MUST BE CUTER THAN ANYONE EVER WAS BEFORE!

As if that wasn't enough,  our already super extra cute and glompable friend Ciel got her hair cut too, something I found out when we picked her up today.  She was already so cute that people try to  kidnap her...

But today she showed up and was TEN TIMES CUTER!

How does the short hair make them so extra super cute?! Then again... I looked kind of cute with my flapper hair, too...

Oh flapper hair, how I miss thee...

Thanksgiving: Redux

Okay, so I thought I’d get rid of all the awkwardness of my freak out from yesterday by redoing my Thanksgiving post. Bigger. Better. And with more awesome pictures.

How do I stop alienating my audience...?

So I’ll start this way:

Surprisingly and amazingly delicious!

So me and the Hedgehog decided that we were going to make pumpkin soup for Thanksgiving. It’s a recipe we stole from Legend of Zelda, and thought we’d enjoy since we’re huge gamer nerds. Though it’s seen again in Skyward Sword, you get to see some of the ingredients in Twilight Princess (pumpkin, onion, garlic, fish) so it wasn’t so hard with both of our creative and cooking abilities to make some. We made a pot weeks before Thanksgiving and it was amazing, so  we were ready to go!

This message has been Link approved.

Okay,  well  I made sure I was pretty because for a girl, looking pretty is like wearing armor for us.

A consequence of my Viking DNA: dramatic hair.

Well, because I was terrified of his mom and I didn’t know most of his family, I spent most of the day hanging out and talking to his step-sisters, despite a gap of four or more years between us.  It’s okay though, because they’re pretty darn awesome, and the Hedgehog treats his sisters like they’re  his best friends in all the world,  so after we had Thanksgiving dinner (more like late lunch) me, the Hedgehog and the younger of the two I’d met before went out walking.

It was a nice day out and we walked out to the mud pit, this huge open place where people go mudding, only we were walking on the path next to it. It was fun, we all talked about ghosts and crazy  things we’d seen, and the Hedgehog and his sister reminisced about stuff.

Then we broke beer bottles against stuff.

How I Got Curly Hair (a hint, I wasn't born that way)

In case no one has seen the awesomeness that is my adorable little self with my cute blonde hair in paint form, here it is.

I put the bow on so you know I'm a girl!

In case no has seen my normal paint self, which causes me to wonder who you thought that was all this time, here it is, too.

Clearly the most epic person on the internet...

 Now, unless you're the kind of person who knows a lot about hair and how it can change, you might be a little  suspicious about why I was so cute and blonde when I was little, and why I happen to have dark curly hair now, you might also be wondering about the glasses, but that's explained way more easily: I was near sighted my whole life and no one noticed me squinting really hard to see until I was in middle school.

I have two things to say about this picture... Yes, my hair looked like that, and looking at it, I have to wonder why I wondered why people always thought I was mistakenly mad at them...

 Of course, that creates interesting pictures and makes you wonder why no one ever noticed me making that face, and I really wish it could help explain why exactly I was so bad with faces, but it doesn't... I'm just bad with faces, and names. I once became friends with a girl because in gym class I became friends with this girl who was tall, thin, had straight blonde hair, and glasses. The next day in gym class I saw a girl who looked vaguely familiar and started talking to her... She was short, had a huge butt, and had short, curly, red hair... the only thing they had in common was glasses...

 I thought they were the same girl...

Clearly something is wrong with me, but you already knew that.

Clearly there was also something wrong with them if they became friends with this face...

But this isn't the story about how I'm so awkward with remembering people that complete strangers sometimes come up to me and start conversations during which I sit there the whole time trying desperately to remember where I know them from, or how I managed for years to pass eye exams while making a face that some people only make on the brightest day of the year when they're at the beach and the sun is glaring directly into their eyes... This is the story of how I went from thick, straight, super long blonde hair to having short, still thick, dark curly hair...

 My head was shaved.

When I was six years old I was living with two of my aunts, both of their husbands, two of my cousins, and my older brother. This was a household that was... how shall I say this simply...? They were pretty open to my tomboyish ways.

This did happen... And that kid didn't go to school the next day.

And I was quite the tomboy. I played in traffic, thought I could walk everywhere, got into fights, ignored other little girls because playing with dolls was dumb, and really only played with boys because they were all I had to play with and I wanted to live up to the expectations of my older brother... I was a lot like the Terror in this.

Brrrooooooothhheeeeeerrrrr...

 Still, I was a pretty open and friendly little kid, super outgoing, really mischievous, and I let everyone play with my hair. Who wouldn't want to? It was thick and long enough it reached past my butt and strawberry blonde. I loved my hair. I washed it all by myself every morning and kept it clean and brushed.

 My head was the perfect storm for lice.

I spent most of the 1st grade out of school because I kept lice. They never left. Every time I went back to school they had returned, magically, overnight. I practically bathed in lice shampoo. My clothes were kept in black bags. I wasn't allowed to sleep on a bed... of course, that might be because my aunts were the embodiment of pure evil, but I digress...

Eventually the effort to win the war against my lice became so bad that my aunt decided to cut my hair.

First to my shoulders...

Then to my ears when she realized she couldn't cut hair to save her life.

And it was still crooked...

We thought that was the end of that and I went back to school, feeling cold and lightheaded, by when I passed the school nurse's lice check, I was happy. Looking more like a boy that before, my behavior wasn't considered all that weird anymore, but I still looked slightly like a girl.

Then they did another lice check and my lice had come back... bigger, stronger, and looking like super lice. I can still remember the school nurse standing over my head saying, "Why are they invisible? Should they be transparent? This isn't normal..." to herself.

With no other options remaining, my aunt shaved all of my hair off, and we won the war against lice...

 Only now I didn't look like a little girl at all, I looked like a little boy, and I got treated like one. No one told me I was "so cute" or "so pretty" anymore, or asked to play with my hair, or if they could brush it or braid it... I didn't realize how much I'd liked the attention until it was gone.

That year I went back to live with my mom and she was devastated. I was practically bald and didn't look a thing like a little girl, and my momma was a very girly woman. She dressed me up like a girl in all pink so people would know I was a girl, kept me from playing in the road, and stopped me from playing with the boys... not that I had much choice, that was the stage where girls were icky to them and they refused to play with me... and the girls refused to play with me because I was too rough.

I only had one friend, the boy who lived across the street... and that was because he liked me. He kissed me on the cheek.

 It was a few more years before my hair got to my shoulder blades again, only now it was more of a dark dirty blonde and it was sort of wavy... Mom loved it. She highlighted it champagne blonde and curled it up like hers, and I managed to become a little more girly for all her efforts...

"Are we really twins, mommy?!"

 And then one day when I was twelve she looked at my had and told me, "I bet if we cut if off it'll be curly... Look at that wave, I bet you that the weight of your hair is the only thing stopping it." With an inability to predict the future, I let her. She was right, my hair curled right up, and for all of a day I was super cute...

The only problem was, I didn't know how to take care of curly hair. I brushed it when it was dry, had no idea about conditioners, didn't know what to do with it when it was frizzy... before long it looked like I was making a half-assed attempt at an afro. It kind of wilted in the middle too much to be a real afro, and it hung down too low in the back...

Also,  I made this face...

 The first day of middle school, four boys licked Skittles and threw them at the back of my head to see if they would stick... I was teased relentlessly, every day, about it... When I graduated from high school, I was still dealing with people yelling, "Skittles, taste the rainbow!" at me in the hallway... then again, the accident with the hair-dye in 7th grade probably didn't help refute that...

... It actually looked worse than this...

There are reasons why I'm an awkward not-quite-member of society.