Julie Roberts Ruins Everything

This picture is evidence that I need to go ahead and reset my Netflix password because my mother watching Julia Roberts movies is really screwing up my algorithm, but also, couldn’t this category just be called Middle Aged Women Tilting Their Heads and Looking Dreamily Into the Horizon?

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Pumpkin Spice and Everything Nice

Friday was the first day Starbucks officially began selling Pumpkin Spice, and what did I do that morning?  Went out and picked up a Pumpkin Spice iced coffee.

And I grabbed one Saturday morning.  And I had one this morning.

I know you’ll call me basic, but I don’t care.  I love fall.  I love pumpkins and brisk air and scary stories and the gruesomeness of Halloween.  I’m a November baby, a Slytherin-Dragon-Scorpio, Autumn is in my genes.

What’s more, I’ve had an exhausting summer.  No, I didn’t travel the world like all those insta-girls out there, posting pictures in Thailand one week and Paris the next.  The most traveling I did was to urgent care; one week picking up antibiotics for a UTI, the next for a girl-infection the antibiotics caused.  Two weeks later, I would return to treat the UTI that never fully went away, rinse, repeat.

So really, you can’t blame me for jumping head-first into the nearest pile of leaves.  I am ready to be done with the stagnancy of summer, the unattainable beach body, the suffocating heat–I already sweat in my sleep, I don’t need 100 degree temperatures to add to the problem.

I’m ready to break out my mustard sweaters and plum lipsticks, ready to binge on bratwursts and beer at Oktoberfest.  I eagerly await curling up to Halloween 1, Halloween 2 and Rob Zombie’s take on the classic film, which against all odds, I am not disgusted by.  I want to make tikka masala and meatloaf and soup and drink my pumpkin spice coffees sans judgment.

Because in the end, aren’t we all a little basic?  You summer girls can have your hot dog leg beach photos and Taco Tuesdays and I’ll stick with my scary moviethons and trips to the pumpkin patch, knowing in my heart that I am the one with superior tastes.

Spoken like a true Slytherin-Dragon-Scorpio.

Target or Not Target, That Is the Question

My boyfriend recently made fun of me, which was pretty weird because usually I’m the one making fun of him.  I was complaining to him about the delay on my package from Target.  When he asked what I was waiting for, I told him–foil, mascara, shampoo, drano, every little household item I was too busy* to go out and buy.  Now, I’m not one to go and throw around the “shaming” word, but the look he gave me and the ensuing, seemingly endless laughter will stick with me for quite some time.

Regardless, he got me to thinking.  Maybe it was silly of me, buying foil from the internet, especially when the day I bought it was the day I immediately needed it.  I was hosting Girl’s Night Handmaid’s Tale Bingeathon, and was forced to cook our Trader Joe’s flatbreads directly on the cookie sheets.  I LITERALLY had to put the flatbreads STRAIGHT on the pans, dirtying them, forcing me to have to wash them later rather than just throwing them back in the oven after a cursory wipe with a paper towel.  When will the inconveniences end?

Today I decided enough was enough and stopped at Target on my way home from the gym.  And that’s when I realized just why I was right all along, as always, SUCK IT, JOHN.  While I went in for a $3.99 item, I ended up leaving with $54.67 of merchandise.  I passed the clothes on my way to the kitchen supplies and remembered that I was running low on clean underwear and was too busy** to do the laundry.  I threw some in the cart.  I saw the clearance and while leafing through, I found a shirt for $2.40 (not complaining about this one, just wanted to show off my sweet deal).  I threw that in the cart.  From there, the Siren song of the wine aisle pulled me in, followed by the 2 for $5 ice cream, and before I knew it, I was upstairs, getting a scooper for my Caramel Cone Swirl, some adorable baby mason jars, and a gorgeous bronze and pink mug as a treat to myself for how hard I work.***

  

i deserrrrrrve itttttt
 So not to shame the shamer, but clearly I was right and will be sticking to online ordering for the forseeable future.

* lazy
** lazy
*** I really don’t.

My Urinary Medical History, or An Argument for Planned Parenthood

Sunday night I began to get a funny feeling.  Not like a premonitory-That’s-So-Ravenesque funny feeling (the kind I’ve been wanting my whole life, TBH), but a discomfort that was a telltale sign of a UTI.  Fifteen minutes after laying down to sleep, I rose, peed, and went back to bed.  Then ten minutes later I rose, peed, and went back to bed.  Five minutes after that I rose, peed, and just stayed in the bathroom for the next four hours.  In between the waves of fever and chills and the hundreds of games of Word Streak I was consecutively losing (UTIs cause disorientation too, OKAY), I remembered I had something far more useful and less humiliating on my phone—the Planned Parenthood app, which allows you to request meds for UTIs by simply answering a questionnaire.  I filled it out, took the world’s worst toilet-selfie*, and as the clock struck 3 and the Azo began to kick in, sweetly numbing my urinary tract enough to allow me to rest, I submitted the request and passed out.  I awoke 5 hours later to an alert that my request was fulfilled, and Dr. Liu (to whom I will forever be grateful) had my antibiotics waiting for me at the CVS down the road.  I was able to hop in the car, run to the pharmacy, and make it back home without having to stop to pee once!  It is a bigger accomplishment than it sounds.

Yes, I have health insurance THANKFULLY.  But Azo can cloud the results and make further testing necessary, prolonging the process.  And I need Azo or I will curl up into a ball and cry and pee nonstop.  And if I cry and pee nonstop I will lose too many fluids and become dehydrated and die.  It’s that simple.  Also, to use said health insurance, I would have had to make a trip down to urgent care; while I usually love sitting in a waiting room for an hour while chugging unsweetened cranberry juice and getting up to use the restroom every five minutes, this process was EVEN MORE ENJOYABLE THAN THAT, and cost the same in the end.

It may sound insane to those who have never had the pleasure of experiencing one, but I’ve probably had about 20 UTIs in my life, one that lead to a kidney infection a few years back.  Just this past November I got a series of them with BV sprinkled in the mix, a sort of icing on my cake of misery (ew.  I’m sorry, that sounded so gross).  I was in between health insurance as I was trying to better myself (clearly a bad idea) and had just left a job and started at a new one that was great, but didn’t allow me on their plan until I had been at the company for three months.  I was in pain, in tears, and couldn’t afford a trip to urgent care.  I stopped in the CVS minute clinic thinking that could be an option, but the man there coldly told me he was required to run extra tests on the urine sample that would bring the cost up to a cool $300, simply because I had had a UTI a month before.  I walked out of that meeting feeling a sense of desperation I would only wish on Donald Trump.  And Mike Pence.  And all those bastards out there trying to take away the one option I was able to turn to in that horrible moment.  I called Planned Parenthood and though it was 4:50 and the nearby office closed at 5, the attendant on the phone called them especially for me and they stayed open to accommodate me.  They were so sweet, and so kind, and so understanding, and so human.  I’m poor enough to where I don’t have to pay for most basic services there (what’s uuuup, poverty paaaaaays), but I donated money because even though clearly I should be the one accepting donations, what they do matters and what they do is important and what they do, they should keep being able to do forever and ever.

And YEAH, they provide abortions to women who want or need them.  But guess what?  YOU LIVE IN A COUNTRY WHERE ABORTIONS ARE MOTHERFUCKING LEGAL.  Maybe you don’t want your taxpayer dollars going toward them the way I don’t want my taxpayer dollars going toward keeping Melania Trump cozy in her King Midas ass penthouse, but there you go. It is what it is.  And if you really want abortions to stop, the best way is by preventing pregnancy in the first place which OMG YOU GUESSED IT! Planned Parenthood helps with immensely by offering birth control at low or no cost.

So what you should take from all of this is that Planned Parenthood is a great place.  It’s helpful and efficient.  It’s a realistic healthcare option for women in a world full of bullshit.  And while we all very well may die within the next month in the Great Nuclear Holocaust Kim Jong-un and Trump are itching to start, we are alive now and should stand up for what matters until the end.  With that said, Vive la resistance and DON’T LET THE BASTARDS GRIND YOU DOWN.

*It’s a requirement, don’t judge.**

**The picture part is a requirement, not the “on-the-toilet” part.***

***But if you have UTIs like I have UTIs, the “on-the-toilet” part is a given.

Falling Into Place

Fall is the best time of year. It brings 

1) Pumpkins

2) The much underrated color, orange.

3) General coziness. 

4) Coziness meaning laziness.

5) Scary movies. 

6) Okay, only a certain level of scary movies. 

7) Like, my best friend loves Rob Zombie and his wife and would marry them both in a blood-soaked, human-sacrificial ceremony if the law permitted, but I can’t deal with him or his films because he pretty much recreates my nightmares on screen.

8) So when I say scary movies, I mean thrillers and the classics like Psycho or Halloween (which, let’s be real, is the best horror film of all time). 

9) Or I also love that real kitschy shit like Pet Semetary 2 and Tales From the Darkside.

10) Okay, goddamn Gina, focus.

11) What I started this post to say was I love Autumn because it’s amazing for a lot of reasons but this year is going to be especially wonderful because of the amount of gigantic books coming out. After 10ish years, Jonathan Safran Foer has a new novel. Zadie Smith is going to be back in the game.  Ian McEwan is gracing us with his presence.  Maria Semple is serving up something new. And to top it all off, Bryan Cranston and Anna Kendrick are giving us mere mortals a glimpse into their lives. 

12) So basically, I’m gonna John Milton-it and read myself blind. 

13) Which could in and of itself be a horror movie, if not a really, really boring one.

Sisters Are Doin’ it for Themselves

Hello world. Did you know that there has only been one black female senator in the history of these beautiful United States of America? Did you also know that there have been zero Indian senators, male or female, in said gorgeous country of ours? 

Did you also also know that Kamala Harris is both black and Indian and just got one step closer to making those facts void? 

That’s pretty cool. Glad I could help with that.

In other fun news, for the first time ever, it seems that two Democrats will make it to the California senatorial showdown come November. And not just that, two LADY Democrats. AND NOT JUST, NOT JUST THAT–TWO MINORITY LADY DEMOCRATS.

Way to go, California. You’re making your girl proud. 

 
   

Stacks on Stacks

I had a creative writing professor my last year of college who told me I was one of the greatest students with whom he’s ever been blessed; however, he thought I could benefit from exploring literature and poetry. Though my writing was already bold and exciting, he believed I could only improve if I allowed myself to be influenced by as many authors and styles as I could expose myself to.  In short, he told me the best thing I could do after graduating was to read A SHIT TON OF BOOKS.

A few years have passed since I received my degree so it’s possible some of that information is slightly exaggerated by a combination of elapsed time and my fragile ego–we may never know. What we do know is, like with all my other assignments, I procrastinated and opted to instead watch A SHIT TON OF NETFLIX. But like those other assignments, I found my way back to it, just a bit (ahem, six years) later than I probably should have. 

This is my way of bragging that I just finished my 18th book of 2016 and have read just over 5,000 pages this year. 

 

get on my level
 
 Holy fuck, right? See, my professor was onto something. I’m getting more eloquent already.