white claudia

the room is filled with insects

Pen Pal Project, rough AF draft.

Name: Jenna Pike

Select your age bracket:

Desired Age of Pen Pal: From birth to eternity.

Vocation:

What qualities would you like in a pen pal? I suppose I’ll need someone with an appetite for the weird and unsettling, as my current situation is a bit unusual. I’m not entirely sure I believe it myself at the moment.

Describe yourself in a few sentences or less: These are the facts as I currently know them:

I am a woman (I checked).

I believe I have family, but they are not here… wherever “here” is (Oasis Springs, they tell me. Like that’s supposed to mean something). I have tried to contact them, but keep getting mailer-daemoned. Phone numbers have been disconnected. I got through once, but the man on the other end – my brother, James – said he didn’t have a sister, and hung up. I hit redial, but the phone number had been disconnected.

I live with a young boy who says his name is Mr. Eli. He is six years old, likes dinosaurs and aliens (“But not alien dinosaurs,” he tells me angrily, toys frozen mid-air in his white-knuckled fists. “The law forbids it.”), has a monster under his bed he calls “Madame”, and he is my son.

When I went to bed in my other life, I did not have a son.

Hobbies & Interests:

Would you be interested in meeting your pen pal? I’m not sure where I am, or how to get out. People that I’ve talked to have lived here their entire lives and have zero desire to leave. They can’t seem to remember the last time or occasion that someone visited them from outside of town. I feel, at this point in time, that dragging someone else in would be unwise.

Perhaps even dangerous.

Well, I doubt that’s true, but why risk it.

How many pen pals would you like? I am looking for one or two people who would be interested in joining me as I attempt to figure out what exactly I’ve managed to entangle myself in this time.

Never again the Hot Pocket times

Spent my whole morning reviewing the contents of my hot pockets, now available in liquid form. Had to throw out the garbage can. 0/10 would not recommend.

Toaster oven works okay, though.

If teardrops were pennies, and heartaches were gold, I’d have all the riches my pockets could hold…

So, my oven’s dead, right?

Sucks shit and I hate my oven-less life, but until I get a new one, I bought a toaster oven so I can make complicated toast and easy bake bagels like an adult.

I haven’t made toast or bagels, yet, but I did throw away my toaster in anticipation.

Lately, I’ve been jonesing for these pizza hot pockets I used to like. I figured, what the hell, I got a toaster oven. I’m gonna go buy some fuckin pizza hot pockets. I’m gonna make my dreams come true.

The problem is, I haven’t had these things in like, 15 years. And I can’t remember which one, specifically, I liked.

I go to Safeway, anyway.

I buy some pizza hot pockets, thinking “surely one of these will be the one I liked.

15 years ago.

Back when I liked these things.”

But no.

As it turns out, the brand was probably not even hot pocket, but something Safeway no longer carries, and is probably no longer in production.

I gave my toaster oven virginity to a hot crust of lies.

What happened next will shock no one…

I was going to bake cupcakes, but as it turns out, I’m entirely too fucking lazy.

Thanksgiving

Currently, and regrettably, visiting my parents for Thanksgiving.

The dogs are sanity-savers.

I Have No Twitter, And I Must Rant Publicly

Oven is 100% done for. Good riddance. I spiritually piss on its grave.

Had to move the cheesecake next door to finish baking (to finish baking and beyond… I fucking hate using other peoples’ ovens, as grateful as I am to my neighbors for allowing me to use it… temps vary so wildly and you never truly know what’s going to happen until it’s too late) and I’m going to have to get up early tomorrow to go up to my parents’ house to bake the pumpkin pies. Christ on the cross, it never ends.

In other mildly upsetting news, I finally bit the bullet and bought a new domain. A .nu domain, yukyukyuk.

I’ve been very patient so far today, but it is really beginning to push my buttons.

Baking with my baby.

img_20161123_135450Fall/winter used to be my favorite times of year for basically one reason: Baking. I could use the oven without heating the whole house up, all my favorite shit to bake with is in season, and then I can give it all away afterwards.

Of course, this was all before my oven decided that the time to be a colossal piece of shit was upon us. Now, it no longer works, pretty much at all. I might be able to turn it on, but I might not, and even if I can get it to preheat correctly, there is simply no guarantee that it will stay on long enough to bake anything.

The upside to this is that I get a new oven. The downside is that it’s Christmastime and I don’t want to drop a lot of money on an oven when I could be buying Christmas presents for my kid (and my nieces and nephews who haven’t been liberated by CPS) and dogs.

Also, it fucks with my baking schedule.

Alas, tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and there are cheesecakes and sweet potato pies and pumpkin pies and possibly apple pies to be made, oven be damned.

So, here is my six-year-old daughter, pouring vanilla for a cheesecake. Which is in the oven. Probably baking, but just as likely just sitting there in the bain-marie, raw as fuck and forever inedible.

Such is life.

Why, yes, I am threatening you.

I have to go make dinner and some other shit, then I guess I’ll give this whole blogging thing another go. Can’t fail if I don’t try.

Mermaids, Part 2: Diana

Mermaids

Fandom: Rule of Rose

Summary: Diana and Jennifer are forced into a tentative partnership when the airship experiences mechanical difficulties.

Part 2: Diana

As a long time member of the upper echelon of the Red Crayon Aristocrats, Diana was not accustomed to being trod upon by anybody, let alone a miserable peon like the new girl.

Her lip curled as Jennifer continued mindlessly on her path, apparently unbothered by the prospect of collision. Her hands moved to her hips, a threatening pose she’d been working on to help better intimidate the underlings, but the foolish girl wasn’t paying mind enough to notice.

Stupid, filthy wretch. If she wrinkles my new dress, I’ll skin her alive.

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Pipebombed

Former wrestling superstar CM Punk pounded in UFC debut

I’m so happy I hate him so much ❤