My Verbs.

The following post needs to come with a warning:

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You need to know what you’re getting into before reading (or scrolling through) a whole bunch of shiz about me that you absolutely do not need nor want to know. Yeah internets! Should you choose to accept, don’t spend too much time wondering about your choices in life as this greatly diminishes the joy found in wasting time on the internet.

Here are my verbs.

Making: Money. Messes. People smile.

Reading: Just went on a huge library-hold placing spree. Much needed; I’ve had no luck in my “off the shelf” picks. Oh and Chemistry because I’m doing school now. 

Wanting: A mani-pedi, my floors, grout and couch cleaned, my windows cleaned (they’re second story I can’t do them myself),  to shed some weight so I can fit into my clothes, and a sparkly/glittery windshield shade for my car.

Looking: For shoes! I need a pair of black and brown. Wedges preferably. I legit have no shoes, this is not the way most women say they “need shoes” I really NEED shoes.


Well… in a first-world way. I’m not barefoot. I just don’t have black heels. 

Playing: Games to help me study on the internet. I gotta memorize a whole bunch of polyatomic ions and acids and the internet has been a vast resource.

Wasting: Time. I waste so much time. I guess I have too much time to waste.

Mashed Potato Cat

Sewing: Don’t know how. Not even a button. I’d like to learn, but I’m so busy wasting time.

Wishing: I was a little bit taller, wish I was a baller…

Enjoying: Swimming. I’ve been at my game in the pool of late. Easily cranking out a mile+ usually in 45 min just like my days of yore. Pretty good for an amateur.

Waiting: For my dude to show up and detail my car today. Yes, I have a dude.

Liking: This gif:



Drinking: My iced coffee (Starbucks unsweetened from the store) and coconut milk creamer with stevia and some sea salt mixed in.

Wondering: If I’ll ever fall in love again. Seriously. No, my car-wash dude is not “that kind” of “my dude.”


Cooking: I haven’t been in a cooking mood lately. Nope. But I’ve been obsessed with sautéing mushrooms and onions in wine, thickening up the sauce with arrowroot, and serving over zucchini noodles. Sometimes I add clams like a fancy bish. I have a sore palm because I have used my Vegetti every night since I got it like… 3 -4 weeks ago. *blush*

Loving: My Vegetti, apparently.

Marveling: At the stuff I’m learning in school. Everything is chemicals!

Adventure Time Science gif

Needing: To take my dog, Zoe, to the vet soon. I am afraid I will have to put her to sleep. *movingonbeforeIcry*

Smelling: Glade has this Limited Edition Woodside Library scent that is everything.


Noticing: Some of the best products are Limited Edition. This is annoying!

Opening: Speaking of Limited Edition, I can now open a bag of these chips that I’ve hoarded because they won (!!!) and Lay’s is going to keep them around.


Feeling: Some type of way.

Wearing: Shorts, tanks, flip-flops, dresses. No fall fashion for this Florida girl. Nary a boot nor scarf.

Following: In the direction God nudges me toward.

Knowing: That I’m not giving God my all.

Thinking: I’ll press on.

Bookmarking: The Weird Sh*t You Do thread on GOMI. I savored it slowly. So awesome.

Giggling: ^^^^ That thread though!


PS- I copied this survey from this lovely lady.

PPS- My aplogies for the font issues. Ugh. Computers are hard.

Hello Propaganda


I’m sure you’ve all heard the news by now. Hello Kitty is not a cat.   Not according to anthropologist Christine R Yano. Hello Kitty is a girl. A third-grade girl. This has allegedly reportedly been confirmed by Sanrio.

I take issue with this.



I’ve been into Sanrio (particularly Keroppi) since 1993. READ: BEFORE IT WAS COOL.

Actually, before “before it was cool” was even a thing.


I’m joking. A little.

Any— waking up to find out about this (thanks Erin!) rocked my world. A little.

Here’s what’s what. Or in other words,
*pulls up sleeves*



Cause of why can’t Hello Kitty be a cat and a girl? At the same damb time. A girl cat. Female cat. Isn’t that what we all thought to begin with?


The fact that she never “walked on all fours” means FA when it comes to classifying animals in the biological kingdom of cartoons. We KNOW this!

Mickey is a mouse. Donald is a duck. Goofy is a dog. None of them walked on all fours.

Pluto, coincidentally, is also a dog BUT unlike Goofy he walks on all fours and doesn’t talk. Most Americans pause to contemplate this at least once in their lives. Then we move right along. Because America?  No idea. Who cares because DISNEY!!

But the Japanese, they gotta be technical I guess and make things formal. They decided to formally declare Hello K-I-T-T-Y a girl.


(Again – why can’t she be a girl CAT? Why?)

Now this is what gets me…

The GIRL Hello Kitty, in addition to having CAT EARS and WHISKERS (All the sense it makes. All of it.), she has no mouth.

WHY SHE AIN’T GOT NO MOUTH? WHY don’t they let this bish talk!Is it stemming from female subordinancy in the Asian culture? I don’t know.


I dislike the term feminist rants – but that’s another topic. However, I’ve wondered about this for a long time (See above re: before it was cool). I refrained from writing a thesis on it for Feminist Lit in college, though.

In conclusion? FOH.

I’m rejecting this nonsense. Nope. I stan for my Kitty!!


Don’t believe the hype, friends.

I doubt this Christina woman knew what butterfly-chaos foolishment this would create. But, to her credit, being a anthropologist Hello Kitty Scholar for a living? I’ll bow. She’s winning at life.

But this Hello Kitty propaganda?



Such Talent. Much Grace.



I concussed myself last week. I decided to end the week on a good note and head-butted my hatchback Friday afternoon.


I like the cars.. the cars that go…BOOM. Paining.

That hatch flies up fast though! #excusesexcuses

(You just read “sex” in that hashtag didn’t you.)

My hand flew up to my forehead in what I can honestly say is the most legit #facepalm ever in the history of ever.



I froze like that in the parking lot while the icy-hot daggers of pain gave way to a torching tenderness of ouch – and when I drew my hand away I saw that I’d managed to draw blood.

Such talent. Much grace.



I tried to convince people I was tryna make Bindi Band-Aid happen. Unfortunately,  I fool no one when it comes to portending fashion trends.

The welt turned into a yellowish black & blue that eventually leaked down into the corner of my eye. (How this happen, body?) You can sort of see the aftermath above, but I waited for most of the *ick* factor to go away before lambasting my beauty on the internets.



I was loopy and dizzy last weekend as a result of all of this and I got to thinking about things, particularly “Missy Things.” <—That’s the “name” of this blog if you didn’t know. If I’m going to be consistently “blogging” to no one in particular, emphasis on no one, I want “it” to have meaning and purpose beyond my mere amusement and Tourette-like spasms of rambling about personal shiz.

I mean, my LIFE has more meaning and purpose beyond that, right? RIGHT? I’d like to spend more time writing and reflecting on my real-life goings on and challenges. That way, I’d be more accountable for growth and less prone to squirreling out; distracted by all of life’s awesome.



TLDNR: I hit my head and now I want to use my blog to better myself as a person. Like one does.

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Just what the world needs. LOLWUT.

Or maybe not blog at all (I lie; see above re: Tourette-like spasms).

Till I figure that out, I’ll be on the down-low.

In the comments:


TGYWT–Because Shiz Be Wack


Thank Goodness Yesterday Was Thursday Or, TGYWT! <—with necessary exclamation point. Because TGIF is so 1989.  Because I love me a good acronym.

Because my mind is worn, my heart is sore and my spirit saddened by this week’s events. Make it stop.


  I’m troubled, I’m-a paining. I wanna shout at Mother Earth, “YOU IN DANGER!!”


The weekend is here, so we all have a little more room in our schedules to pray. To think. To feel. To remember. To look around. To determine what needs mending in our own hearts. Our own bodies. Our own minds. Our own souls.

Time to take a minute, have a seat, look around and get real.

Let’s do this.

Please read/listen —-> to this <—-









Stop. Reflect. Examine.

Join me?

Two Words at a Time. Cuz Tuesday.


Four Hours.


“FOH OWA!!!”


Dirty birdies.


Cutie Patootie. Greg’s son.

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Greg’s song.


Décor shopping.

Cute idea.



Mantra Mirror.

Strong contender.


Not sure.



Billz Y’all.


Not mine.

Speaking of….

Rich people.


Worst nightmare. Perpetual fear.


I follow. Don’t judge. 

Deconstructed omelet. Salt and Pepper; lot’s of.


Top Knot. So 2012.


Redneck if…


Why this? Cause why? 


For perspective. I’m 5”3. See me?




David’s home. Bearing gifts.


  Famous cookies. Family company.


Saw today:


No clue.

Your turn.

Two words; one “visual.”




The Thinks I Never Thunk About




I’m lucky to have so many people in my life who put me correct. People who illuminate things I cannot/could not see for myself.

Friends who can say: Girl? BUCK IT UP. Seriously, with your crazy azz.

I’m also grateful that my mind, soul and spirit are always open to new ideas, fresh ways of thinking, and suggestions. I know that my way may not be the best way. A healthy modicum of self-doubt, is how I refer to it. 

I usually spend Thursdays writing about the Thinks I Think You Should Know. But today I’m busy thinking thinks I never thought before. Thinks inspired both by friends and by God — pointing out better ways, higher truths, and cold hard reality.

I don’t mean the casual “why didn’t I think of that?” stuff.


I’m talmabout deep water shiz.

My way?


Isn’t gonna work on this one, y’all.

I found out yesterday that something I’ve been dealing with for a long long time has a name. The fact that someone stuck a label on what I thought was such a personal weirdity has given me a more intense drive to FIX IT.

To “Buck it Up.”

So I’m trying to think of the thinks I never thought of before. A new way. A way out.

Most Chains of Events End in Peanut Butter




It all started when I vacuumed my dog. I’d had the idea for a while and wanted to Google if it was (a) a thing and (b) safe, but never got around to it. So I decided to just grab the bull by the horns.


Y’all. She looooooved it. No joke! It was hysterical.

This is her “I’m not sure what just happened, but it felt really good and I’m not sure what that means about me” face.


I did get a chance to Google later (you’ll see) and found The Furminator. I want one. I think Zoe probably wants one more than I do.  Girls and their… toys.


Capturein use

I then decided to vacuum my bedroom, where I got mauled by the corner of my bed post thingy. Those things exist for no other reason than to get in the way of your toes I am certain.


FOR LAWD!! A good mess, that was. Hurt soooooooooo bad. I kept waiting for the pain to go away like it does with a stubbed toe. It didn’t. It THROBBED. I have a history of breaking bones pretty easily so I was scared I’d broken my foot. When I tried to get up I cried actual tears.

There’s really no other tears one can cry I suppose, other than actual tears. I’m a really good writer.

So I just stayed on the ground with my foot elevated on my knee. My phone was on my nightstand (an anomaly) so I distracted myself on the internets while gathering courage to get up for ice.

After googling how “much weight will I gain if I break my foot? am I crazy if I vacuum my dog?” I proceeded to scroll through Feedly, Instagram, and Facebook. I started to take that IQ thing that’s been blowing up but it kept stalling out on me.

I tried taking selfies of myself looking pitiful so my friend would have mercy on me and come over like I’d been begging her all day.

That didn’t really work out.


Evidently when you’re a single mom and you have the weekend to yourself, staying in pajamas on a super rainy Sunday is preferable to leaving the peace and quite of your house to go listen to your best friend blather on about peanut butter and glitter and Bravo television. *ahem* RACHEL *ahem*.

Whatever. Totally Fine.

I went back into the internet time suck and came across a really awesome article on XO Jane:


Y’all should read it. She writes that more Vegans need to recognize their lifestyle isn’t right or even realistic for everyone for a bevy of reasons – economical, physiological, logistical..even psychological:

I’ve had many conversations with others, mostly young women, who fervently wish that they could just “stop thinking about food once in a while.” Vegans, as a rule, can’t. We’re always pausing to check ingredients or think about whether we’re getting enough Vitamin B. I’m not saying all vegans are inclined toward disordered eating. I know from experience, though, that it’s easy to slide from obsessing over whether something contains dairy to how many calories are in a slab of tempeh, exactly.


I’ve been thinking a lot about a vegan diet lately; a shift of some sort in my inner workings is directing me closer to that path. But closer; not entirely. I’ll never be too rigid in my approach to food ever again (see above). I also really don’t like labels.

Coincidentally, I’m reading this book. It’s not a vegan manifesto exactly but… yeah, it is. I mean, it’s Joel Fuhrman. I’m really digging the information in here – a refreshing change from the popular paleo obsession that’s everywhere these days. Did we forget everything we learned about meat people?

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Also, the idea of fish (the only meat I eat) has been making my stomach kind of queasy lately:


 I’ve been trying to incorporate more beans in my meals for economical reasons, which means more vegan meals.


(Those crackers, by the way, are THE BEST Mary’s Gone flavor.)

With that in mind, I searched for recipes with Cannellini beans but was quickly distracted by another article:


Because Peanut Butter.

(By the way, by this point I’d hobbled to the couch with some ice.)

Of the 10 recipes, the one that intrigued me was this Peanut Butter Slaw:


Red wine vinegar and peanut butter? What? I had to try. Obviously.

I had almost all the ingredients on hand because I happen to be on a big coleslaw kick.


The slaw kick was bought to me in part by this little guy:



Getchu some.


I made a mockup version of the recipe and I really like the direction this is headed, but I need to play around with it a bit more.


I wanted to let it sit overnight so I didn’t have it with dinner. Actually, I ate it for breakfast this morning.


*true story*

Instead, I ate eggs for dinner.


Because vegan. LOL.

And wine, obviously. Because broken-azz foot.

Not really. Wine because always.

PS- My foot’s okay. Limping is the new “swagger.”


I  have NO idea what anyone would have to say about this post, but hey. Leave a comment please because I’m lonely and my friends neglect me.