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the sunday currently

Who doesn’t love I found a new blog day?? Every once in awhile, I like finding these kind of …sort of form blog posts… that people do — the thankful post was a good example of that. But it’s a great way to sort out your thoughts and map out your head for a hot second. Courtesy of, here is the sunday currently.

R E A D I N G Stieg Larsson’s The Girl who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest. I’ve read this trilogy so many times, plus owning the Swedish version of the films, and the US version of the first book. It’s so damn addicting. If you haven’t read it before, I strongly recommend starting now, because I also read this article (OMG, new book alert) about a fourth book being written. And for anyone to has read the books, WHERE IS CAMILLA?!

W R I T I N G Poetry up the wazoo. Back in the day, I’d carry around a journal all the time, so I could just constantly be writing (I now regret the high period where I thought it was fun to write in markers, because damn, is that hard to read nowadays). Short stories, poetry, beginnings to books, actual books, where I sat in 3rd period AP English Senior Year of high school.  It feels good to just being jotting down the snippets that come up in my head every once in awhile.

L I S T E N I N G to The National, non-stop. To quote VS, “Grad school and being sad have really made me appreciate the National.” Or even better,

T H I N K I N G that I really need to finish start my Christmas shopping. It’s CHRISTMAS, THIS WEEK. I had no idea.

S M E L L I N G absolutely nothing, because this weather has me all stuffed up. Seriously. I blow my nose every thirty seconds. Someone should mail me Kleenex for Christmas.

W I S H I N G I had more time for Christmas presents. And that I had more time to do everything I want for Christmas. And really, for more time. I mean, this is wishing, right?

H O P I N G  for an epic Christmas season. It’s so busy between all the Christmas activities and the travelling and then NYE is right after that, and then it’s Winter Classic time, and let’s be honest. I’m really hoping for a W there.

W E A R I N G a lazy Sunday kind of outfit. Old School High School sweatshirt and sweatpants. I’d like to officially add to my Christmas list that I’d like some new Victoria’s Secret Boyfriend sweatpants because this pair has bleach on them, and my other pair has paint on them, and I really ought to take better care of my clothing.

L O V I  N G Lazy Sundays. Seriously, who doesn’t love lounging and relaxing? It’s the day of rest, people. Calm the fuck down, and have some hot cocoa.

W A N T I N G some more cocoa. Maybe a nice Mocha. I wish Starbucks delivered.

N E E D I N G Starbucks to start delivering.

F E E L I N G like Starbucks ought to deliver.

C L I C K I N G the exit button. Since it is a Lazy Sunday, that’s exactly what I’m going to be.


I solemnly swear, etc.

I gave up Red Bull three weeks ago.

This might explain why I haven’t been blogging, because I’ve been all…

…without the deliciousness of taurine and caffeine and whatever other -ines I was regularly putting into my system to allow the amount of foot tapping and body shaking that I normally do.

But without Red Bull, I’m suddenly feeling like I have a clearer head. I sleep better. I’m not jittering all over the place, and I no longer have the desire to try and turn cartwheels down the impossibly long hallway of my office.

Wow, I realize. What a wise decision I made to cut something so terrible out of my life. Out, damned energy drink. Out.

This got me thinking. What other terrible, horrible, no good, very bad things have plagued me in my life that I should probably think about giving the boot?

Here, in no particular order, is my list of guilty pleasures that I’m in the process of kicking.

1. Starbucks.

Fuck, I love my coffee. I love it so hard. And with no Red Bull, Starbucks has been poised to make a killing on my wallet and in my heart. But then some asshole posted that my drink of choice, the grande white chocolate mocha-licious, is about 1290343098573 (add comments accordingly) calories of love handles and empty promises.

Full of delicious empty promises and cash money

Full of delicious empty promises and the college funds of all my future children and my children’s children and my children’s children’s children.

Seriously. Basic math shows that my coffee habit of $4.29 at least twice a week is almost $500 bucks out of my pocket for the year. And I am poor. I am poor and I am paying to get fat. Granted, it’s so much easier to drive to Starbucks than make a cup of coffee in the morning. But I’m trying. Starbucks, you’ve been downgraded to special occasions and pity parties.

2. Shopping on an empty spirit.

Do you read my blog? Then you know. I’ve been a very, very sad person.  I have had some very low moments in my life, and I’ve had a very, very full closet for some of them. Did I ever wear that t-shirt from Forever 21 that had the bicycle on it because it looked like me? How about that sparkly gem headband during that phase of fashion life where everything was bedazzled?



I’ve made some terrible fashion decisions because when I get depressed, I shop. Some part of my brain told me that if I was sad, things would make me happy.

They didn’t. Neither did my empty wallet. But now when I shop, I’m able to look at my armload of stuff and think to myself. Do I need this stuff? Do I want this? Am I feeling sad? And if any of the answers are yes, I set the things down, back slowly away, and call somebody who knows me.

Friends. Good. Impulse shopping. Bad.

3. Overanalyzing.

I don’t know why I do this. I can’t think about it though, because it defeats the purpose of trying to kick the habit.

4. One Tree Hill > 8 hours of sleep.

I’m such a guilty pleasure TV show-er. I loved One Tree Hill, and Gossip Girl, and Gilmore Girls, and Veronica Mars, and OMFG, Did you know there is a Veronica Mars movie coming out!?

This would all be well and good, but Netflix. And TV on DVD. And other ways to spend hours and hours of your life just watching TV. I work a normal job schedule, then spend the rest of my time with my son, which means that the time I have to watch TV falls during post bedtime for offspring time. Which would be well and good except…

L.A.’s thought process for TV watching

Episode 1: I love this show. I’m going to watch  this episode then go to bed because I have to wake up early.

Episode 3: Oh. Em. Effing. Gee. I have to find out what happens.

Episode 9. I can’t NOT finish the season now. I just should finish it. There’s only two episodes left.

Episode 34549837: Fuck. Is that my alarm?!

5. Sticking to things.

I.e. Sorry I haven’t blogged every week like I promised.


…I acknowledge that the following things may not be kicking habits, but simply growing up and making mature decisions. THE HELL, guys. THE HELL.


in which we don’t need no stinkin’ pants.

I’m not that girly. I’m not going to lie. GoldDust tried once to put liquid eyeliner on me, and I cried before she even got one eye done. I’m just not a high maintenance female. I roll out of bed in the morning, brush my hair and teeth, and head out the door.

I forgot pants once because I was in such a daze.

This means, that when I go to the effort of getting dolled up, it’s a big effort. On Tuesdays and Thursday mornings, however, sometimes I’ll make the extra effort because I know I’ll be seeing my BFF Poof, who runs a fashion blog. It’s nice when our photos don’t feature her being adorable and me in a t-shirt. But that’s happened before.

One Tuesday and/or Thursday (I’m not sure which it was), I happened to be dolled up after playing photographer with Poof, and good things happened to happen. I got tickets to the most epic of epic things in the hockey world: tickets to the Winter Classic.

And you guys know that I love my hockey.

So, in a flurry of excitement and high energy, I headed to the most ideal place: Starbucks.

“Coffbanger,” I tell my barista. “GUESS WHAT I HAVE?!”

Coffbanger happens to have been my barista for a long time standing, and thus, he knows of my hockey love. He guessed within three tries that it was hockey tickets, and laughed at my outwardly excessive amount of glee.


His co-worker was not such a good sport.

“Wait,” the coworker tells me, interrupting Coffbanger’s and my conversation. “You can’t be a hockey fan.”

Eyebrow raise here. The awkward silence says that he should stop talking.

The coworker continues, however. “You can’t be a hockey fan. You’re in a dress.”

Cue the jaw drop. Of course, I would never take this lying down.

Immediately following this trip to Starbucks, I had to inform the masses.

I’m so irritated. I’m tired of having to define icing to prove that I actually like hockey, as opposed to just wanting to hump Darren Helm*.

“Well,” I tell him. I manage to keep smiling. No amount of anger can wipe my “I’m going to the Winter Classic” smile off my face. And then this spills out faster than they’re making my coffee.

“You can’t be a man, you’re in skinny jeans.”

Coffbanger, the coworker, and I are all silent for a moment before Coffbanger lets out a snort of laughter.


Mohawk summed it up pretty nicely. Of course I had to text someone about my moment of greatness as I walked away.

Seriously though. Can’t a girl like her hockey in a dress?

And such a cute dress too.

And such a cute dress too.

Seriously. I looked fecking adorable.

Dress: Free People. Cardi: Forever 21. Belt: Banana Republic. Wedges: Charlotte Russe. Comeback: 2000% L.A.

Dress: Free People. Cardi: Forever 21. Belt: Banana Republic. Wedges: Charlotte Russe. Comeback: 2000% L.A.

Sound off, female hockey fans.

Can’t a girl wear a dress and be a hockey fan? Or a sports fan?

I know I’m not the only one with sports colored knee socks for playoff games.

*the writer acknowledges that yes, she would also like to hump Darren Helm.

Home Sweet Home-ish

I don’t know if you knew, but people are funny. For this reason, we are proud to announce that some people are going to be funny for us.

If you’ve been living under a rock, you haven’t noticed that I’m currently vacationing in the Philippines. That means that my dumb as rocks dogs have been left in the more than capable hands of BaristaGirl, FunSized’s little sister, who apparently didn’t like the idea of the blog name MiniFunSized.

Yes, the dogs are in capable hands because she is, in fact, a fully grown woman, and not a mini version of FunSized.

And yes, the dogs are in capable hands because they are both small enough to be picked up and held.

And yes, we now present our first guest blogger, BaristaGirl, with adventures in L.A. Land.

Xo, L.A.

Hey there, readers!

While L.A. is vacationing in the Philippines, I am here house-sitting her abode back in the states. Let me tell you, it has been an adventure! After sharing some of my stories with FunSized, she suggested to L.A. that I guest blog about what I’ve learned house sitting.

Lesson 1. Clocks Chime.

As you all know (if you are a regular reader of this blog, which you should be), L.A. lives with her parental units. Ever since we were young, her father has collected clocks. Analog, wind-up, grandfather, whatever kind, I am sure he owns it. L.A. briefly mentioned that these clocks chime in an orchestral pattern at times, however growing up in a neighborhood by the train tracks, I wasn’t worried about the noise.



Clocks chime. Loudly. The first night, the oh-so-lovely clocks woke me up from a dead sleep every hour on the dot. It’s like having house wide alarm clocks.

Text between BaristaGirl and FunSized

Text between BaristaGirl and FunSized

Lesson 2. Some dogs walk, while others crawl.

L.A. has two dogs. Although both small and white, the similarities stop there. Dog #1 is older, partially blind, and walks fairly slow. Dog #2, is yippy and slightly spastic. Now add me, an amateur dog walker at best into the mix and boy, do you have a show.

Many a walk was spent being yanked by Dog #2 who bolts out the door in a flash, only to be dragging poor Dog #1 behind. I also recall at one point Dog #2 almost being cloths-lined by the leash of Dog#1 due to a squirrel sighting. I can only imagine what a sight it must have been for all the neighbors.


Lesson 3. Trash day is not the same in any language.

Grand Rapids has an ODD trash/recycle/refuse system. Not living directly in the city myself, I never thought twice to check with L.A. about trash day. I should have. Not only do they have city regulated trash bins, but also trash bags. And apparently if you use a non-city distributed bag you have to use special tags? Oh dear God. It’s way too confusing for it’s own good.

In case you were curious, I still don’t have a clue what day trash day is.*

Lesson 4. All outlets are not created equal.

In this day and age, technology is everything. Even L.A. and I were joking about how on vacation she was taking half of the Apple store with her! The downfall of having all these products? Cords and Battery Life. I must have a million of unused power cords and chargers lying around from old phones, iPods, and computers. Not only that, but the products I do have need to constantly charge.

So, in a recent quest to charge my laptop, I came upon the realization that all the surge protectors and outlets in L.A.’s room didn’t fit my laptop plug.** 20 minutes later, I found an outlet. IN THE BATHROOM.


BaristaGirl, while not house sitting, dog sitting, and grounded outlet searching, is a part time Barista at Starbucks and a full time sister to  FunSized. Both scenarios give us great hope for more guest posts when L.A. feels lazy or BaristaGirl feels funny.

*Footnote from L.A.: Trash Day is totally Mondays.

**Footnote from L.A. Part 2: I attempted to help with the “very few grounded outlets” problem by suggesting the following:

Text between L.A. And FunSized

Text between L.A. And FunSized

Talk quietly, I’m probably listening.

We all know how completely relationship-phobic I am. But honestly, sometimes, I see, you know,  the happy peopleand I miss it.

There are always the good parts and the bad parts to a relationship and I know this — I know that you have to put forth the work to be with someone you love, and that you have to accept the differences, and that every relationship is a partnership.


But then.

I know that some relationships are bat-shit crazy.

I’m not normally an aggressively loud person. Which means, if I’m…

…in line behind you at the post office.

…sitting at a table near you at Starbucks.

…lounging at the park and you’re walking by.

That I might happen to overhear you and your significant other. And I might happen to wonder WTF, people. Why are you together?


Man: You can’t be mad at me.

Woman: I told you not to put it there. I told you.

Man: We don’t have to discuss everything.

Woman: This we do.

Man: I’m over this.

Woman: I’m over you.

Man: But it comes out!

At this point, I’m sure they’re about to break up. Obviously, they have terrible communication skills, and he did something that she did not appreciate and to make it worse, he didn’t even try to talk to her about it, which means she was caught by surprise and then it sounds something possibly got stuck.

They’re totally breaking up.

Woman: It won’t! You fucking ruined our coffee table!

Follow me on twitterwhere I post random things like this all the time. Except on Mondays. I just complain on Mondays.