In case you’ve ever wondered, I’m going to let you know how to tell when the “shit gets real.”
When you get solicitations from a funeral home! Yes! I wish I was making this up, but I’m not.
The other day, when I brought in our mail, I saw a letter from a local mortuary addressed to “The McGuinn Family.”
For half a second, I was confused. Did I know a single soul who had been planted or fried by this particular business? Hell no! They wanted us!
Now, because I have OCD and am often superstitious AF, I deliberated…
This story has been banging around in my head for a while, as I wasn’t sure I could, or should, write it. But, every now and then, the hope that something I share will help someone who is similarly struggling, or at least make them think, trumps any potential discomfort that might result, for me.
As it stands, I’ve already revealed much about my life and what makes me, “me.” The picture isn’t always a pretty one. In fact, on several occasions, my stories have been the literary equal of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.”
No, not pretty. Unless “pretty scary”…
Have you noticed that “artisans” in nearly every facet of life, abound these days?
Case in point: Like most of us now, I have a set routine, and yes, it’s boring AF.
I write, work out, run errands, and in the afternoon around three or so, I reward myself with a bowl of popcorn and whatever I’m currently binging on Netflix.
At my market, I saw a new brand of popcorn, huge bags of it, seasoned with sea salt and a mere thirty-five calories a cup. Score!
When I brought it home, I noticed in big letters on the bag…
I’ll bet you’re wondering what I meant by that cryptic subtitle. It was my not-so-clever way of saying that there are instances in life when “getting your way” is non-negotiable.
As Sally Albright says in When Harry Met Sally, “I like things how I like them.”
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been hampered by that buzzy personality quirk known as “buyer’s remorse.” Whether it be a haircut, a Hefty-size bag of Persian cucumbers, or a bigger ticket item, I can’t seem to get it right the first go-round.
I rarely like the haircut, the cukes shrivel up…
The other day, I came upon a story from a writer who referenced “earworms.” You know…those songs that, love them or hate them, you can’t get out of your head.
I’ve yet to read it, but I am going to hunt it down and do so.
It got me thinking as so many of my ramblings result from a song or songs, that slither through my brain and take up residence for ridiculously large amounts of time. Sometimes, they’ll back off, but the damn things only tease me as they usually come back to further provoke me.
I’m an easy…
For shits and grins, I just skimmed an article from a writer who made over five grand in a single month, right here on Medium, and is graciously sharing their “secrets.”
I keep telling myself that I’m never going to write about this shit again, but you irresistible goofballs keep reeling me back in. Just like Michael Corleone in The Godfather.
It’s damned near impossible to NOT comment on these clickbait stories. …
The oxymoron that is “customer service.”
I’ve just spent two hours of my life trying to “get organized.”
For weeks, in an attempt to declutter, I’ve amassed a shit-ton of stuff that I’m eager to dump. And, normally, we receive calls from Amvets every couple of months asking us if we’d like them to pick up our donations.
As we haven’t heard from their rep in a while, I called them to schedule a pickup. They can’t find our address in their “system.” They’ve been friggin’ coming here for years and can’t find us.
Why is everything so ridiculously difficult…