Greek•ish

Happy post Scorpio conception day! At least everyone knows where they stand in their relationships now. And if you’re trying to figure out an LA relationship – GOOD LUCK! – she yells through a megaphone with a very sarcastic thumbs up. I was at the grocery over the weekend feeling attacked by the Cupid inspired explosion and thought to myself ‘look at all these flowers that are going to go to waste because nobody here loves anybody.’ My Valentine and I spent a chunk of the day stuck on the 1. Sober. I believe at one point I screamed out the window, “WHY AREN’T YOU ARE ALL HOME FUCKING?!” Sorry for the vulgarity, ma, but it’s a valid question. Thought about calling restaurants to ask if they would be hosting a singles section but figured they were dealing with enough psycho. So instead, we ordered a clam chowder to split for pick up, pulled over and watched the sun set like the Barb and Star that we are. I cannot rave about this movie enough. I watched it twice in 72 hours. It’s silly and fun and exactly what I needed in the middle of this hooplah. Don’t watch the trailer or read anything about it. Just watch it. Until then, I’ll be praying to seagulls in my culottes. Watch it. You’ll get it. In other news, if anyone knows of any underground travel rings, please volunteer me as tribute. I’m ready for my European extravaganza yesterday.

Speaking of Europe, I received the results from 23&Me and it turns out my entire life has been a hoax. I’ve always told people I’m half Greek, half Italian and it turns out I’m a huge liar-liar pants-on-fire because my DNA would suggest I’m only 7.2% Greek…??!?!?!?!? Excuse me? I have greek letters TATTOOED on my body. I’ve been in dumber relationships that take up a bigger percentage of my life. WHO AM I?! They do explain why this is and how the Greek Islands were a crossroads between Europe and Western Asia but I still feel a little ‘the mailman is my dad’ right now. I am 44.6% Italian, 29.5% German, 10.6% British/Irish, .3% MONGOLIAN (?!) and .2% Finnish. I’m a build-a-bear with a nervous system. I will say, I’m not mad at the fact that I can now tell people I’m a little bit Finnish with a wink. It just seems like the right thing to do moving forward. I’m essentially a wine meritage that gets that look from people like – I have no idea what you are but I’m going to nod my head with a hint of smile so I don’t offend you cause I don’t understand – thoughts and prayers. I have 1500 relatives on this thing – I think I’ve met 3 of them. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll start walking differently now. It says my muscle composition is common in elite power athletes and that I’m likely to wake up at 8:11am which is disturbingly accurate. It also says I have a slightly increased risk of age-related macular degeneration which is fancy for irreversible vision loss…cool, cool, cool…

I donated blood at the Magic Castle and I gotta tell you, it’s the most sober I’ve ever been in that place. I was like – oh THIS is what it looks like? Huh. You don’t say? In my defense, the lights were also turned up so it didn’t look normal – I was also short a pint of blood and delirious so leave me alone. It was a delightful experience. A magician even did magic tricks for me at the snack table and I have to confess: magic makes me furious. I am way too nosy to sit back and enjoy it. I want to know how it works, where that dove came from, why that card was in your pocket and WHERE DID THE BOWLING BALL GO?! Bowling ball magic KILLS me. But basically watching magic makes me feel like an idiot. And I realize that’s the whole point and I should probably go into it with a little more ‘willing suspension of disbelief’ but SHOW ME ALL YOUR SECRETS! I like to be in the know. I like to know what’s going on. I prefer to be privy to the insider trades if you know what I mean. (I don’t. I don’t even know what insider trades are but it felt appropriate. Shut up) Maybe it stems from my trust issues but I’m focusing on transparency in my relationships these days and whenever I’m watching magic, I just think to myself…YOU A LIE. So in conclusion, magicians are liars. This is a professional assessment. No further questions.

There’s been a lot of chatter on how women are parting their hair these days. Apparently the side part is for “olds” according to TikTok which is where everyone should for sure be getting their news and validation. Listen, be you. Part your hair however you want. I literally can’t have bangs because of two amazingly placed cowlicks on my head and spent many years of my childhood feeling like a failure with a forehead of unusual size. I survived. You, too, will get through this. Frankly, I could care less about what some 17 year old has to say about my style. This is the same generation that was soaking their tampons in grain alcohol to get drunk faster and, as of recently, decided to use Gorilla Glue as hair product. This stuff’s been around since 1999 and we’ve all been using it with ZERO PROBLEMS and Gen Z was like, hold my ring light and record this, BRB. Yeet! Also, they can’t read cursive. These are the bozos that have made you question yourself? Oh boo-hoo, they think you’re old? We ARE old! Especially to them. Anyone who had to switch VHS tapes mid-movie, owned a lava lamp or knows how to use a rotary phone is old to them. If they want to bring back middle parts and buttcrack jeans – let them. I lived that bellbottom life and I am not going back. Ever. No matter how many TikTok videos tell me I’m lame. Again, and I can’t annunciate this enough, I.DO.NOT.CARE. I don’t care now, I won’t care tomorrow. Why are you letting some kid make you feel bad about yourself from their parent’s basement? They can’t even rent a car. They think the Titanic is just a movie. They eat Tide pods FOR FUN. Without social media, what even are they? So I’m gonna let my hair fall where it falls and continue to squeeze myself into skinny jeans because no one knows I’m old more than I do. Insert MIC DROP EMOJI here.

My friend sent me this thing that tells you what your fantasy book title is by what month you were born, first letter of your name, blah blah. So she’s like – I’m the House of Stars and Rose. All whimsy and beautiful and full of magical promises and flute music. Just makes you think of a gal who talks to a chorus of birds on her window sill you know? Nice soprano voice, delicate features, always has her legs shaved. So I figure mine out…The Queen of Fire and Nightmares. Which sounds like a woman off her hinges who can’t be tamed and listens to a lot of battle-scene soundtrack music while sitting in a room of marble plotting against the universe with her only friend who happens to be a crow. I’d say she has a wardrobe of minimal color range and is a definite baritone. She’s, without a doubt, hoarse and husky. Correct. That’s me. How sweet. My other friend informed me that she was The Land of River and Blood which made me feel a tiny better.

Life around here is a bit nutty. I get notifications like ‘police request for backup 500 ft away’ and ‘woman wielding an ax outside your window’. The last one was an exaggeration – the first one wasn’t. But my friend literally FOUND A BABY in the street. My mind can’t even wrap itself around it. WHY is anyone’s baby in the street?! It’s getting wild out there. I mean, this place has turned into a Street Fighter simulation. If the SuperMario ghosts turn up, I’m done. I just want to live in a world where dust doesn’t exist and I own a closet full of hangers that aren’t from the dry cleaners you know? I want a waterproof computer so I can work from my pool and hold auditions for a pool boy who will feed me cupcakes and crack open all of my crab legs for me – IS THAT SO HARD? Just give me my Italian veranda so I can get Tommy Brady boat-parade wasted as soon as possible. Please and thank you! (big long sigh) So, yeah…those are my goals right now. Extremely reasonable as per usual. I’ll tell you what I won’t be doing – trying to impress anyone in the same age bracket as the ding-dong who had to be flown into California to get GLUE surgically removed from her head. Be safe out there. Be great. Love you long time – Your Greekish Queen FireNightmare xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: