We’ve Moved On Up!

The decision was made, the move has been accomplished. Follow me on over to the brandie new, fancypants Inverse Candlelight!


See ya there!


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We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties: Please Be Patient

I know, I know, the site looks different every 15 minutes. New Blogger layout? WordPress? GASP, TYPEPAD? Typepad makes me feel dumb. I find myself yelling at the screen a lot. And having the urge to suck my thumb. Which always helps. Blogger is like the kindergarten of the blogging world. Put the little blocks in order, press the little pictures, all done, yay! You may go outside and play now.

This is what paralyzing boredom does to a person.

Things That I Have Given Way Too Much Thought To Lately:

  • What on earth did that bloody cat eat that could result in so much horror on my carpet?
  • My parents are returning from Europe – What will be the prezzie situation, and will it include a sexy European man folded neatly in a garment bag? (Ventilated, people! I’m not heartless!)
  • Speaking of sexy, will my confession of The Pink Shoes of Shame mean I will be forced into celibacy for eternity?
  • “America’s Got Talent?” Perhaps. “America’s Got The Dangerously Insane?” For certain.
  • Watching Intervention: Totally counts as a meeting, if I drink coffee and talk back at the screen, right? Plus, I can do it in my jammies.
  • I’m serious, WHAT did that cat EAT? I need stock in carpet cleaner.
  • HTML: Will I ever learn it? More accurately, will I ever stop pretending I WANT to learn it?
  • Living across from Friendly’s, which is the crack den of ice cream: Morbid obesity imminent?
  • Facebook status updates: Why am I obsessed?
  • Making lists on blog: Please stop, implores internet.

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Scenes from Insomnia

As I have been talking about incessantly lately to anyone who will stay still for three milliseconds, I’ve been suffering (SUFFERING!) from insomnia. It’s a side effect of my (lovely and amazing) brain pills, and I’ve been soldiering through, since I’d rather be awake and sane than sleepy and bonkers. However, when one hits around 72 hours straight of wakefulness, sanity becomes a distant memory. I offer this entry as a deep and heartfelt apology to all and any of my friends, who really must be deleting my screen name from their IM clients as we speak. As well they should.

Things that seem like a super idea at 4 AM, which are in actuality never a super idea, not even a little:

  1. Walking into town in overalls, a sports bra, and a studded collar.
  2. Knitting five bags, three hats, and a set of fingerless gloves
  3. Which is appropriate, since my hands are falling off from the incessant knitting
  4. Taking pictures of self looking like Trainspotting 2: Even More Attractive
  5. Making a pot of coffee, because why the hell not?
  6. Or two pots.
  7. Writing what seem to be utterly brilliant blog entries and MamaPop articles, only to realize they are more like “manifestos” and “not spelled correctly, even a little bit”
  8. Listening to Joy Division
  9. Hysterically crying
  10. IMing with unsuspecting friends:

missbanshee: I’m walking into town!
friend of banshee: That is a spectacularly bad idea.
missbanshee: I can’t stay still! I’m out of yarn! Gotta walk!
FOB: No walking. Shut the door and get in the bed.
missbanshee: The bed has shunned me. Like the Amish. I shall never lie in the bed again!
FOB: Well fine. The couch then. Shut the door, LOCK THE DOOR, and sit on the couch.
missbanshee: Is that a direct order?
FOB: YES. Yes, that is a direct order. Uh…obey me!
missbanshee: That is so sexy.

Of course, there are other things that happen to one’s brain on no sleep. Things become very black and white. (And pretty colors, after the 48 hour mark, but that’s neither here nor there.) Situations, people and things are reduced to being paralyzingly funny or horrifically awful. Non-sequitors abound. Y’all? No one is ever going to talk to me ever again.

4:23 AM

FOB: I really need to go to sleep, dude. It’s past 1 AM.
missbanshee: WHAT? You’re three hours behind me! Suck it up, California person! Let’s vacuum under my bed.
FOB: What? Let’s NOT. You have neighbors, remember? Neighbors who will kill you if you start running the vacuum at 4 in the damn morning.
missbanshee: *lower lip quivering* My bedroom is so dusty. You know why? Because it’s LONELY. My bed has never had anyone in it but ME. No one loves me! I’m going to die alone and no one will know until the STENCH from my DECOMPOSING CORPSE permeates my WHOLE BUILDING. *sobs*
FOB: Oh jeez. Um…uh…Hey, would vacuuming make you feel better? Why don’t you vacuum. That’s a great idea.
missbanshee: No, that’s stupid. It’s 4 AM! I’m going to scrub the kitchen floor.
FOB: Perfect.

So yeah. I’ve been a delight to be around. Now that I’m on the equivalent of a horse tranquilizer (thanks, doc!) and getting some sleep, I see what I’ve been doing, and, to everyone I have tormented within an inch of their unsuspecting lives as of late? I’m really, really sorry. Please forgive me. I’ve knitted you a pantsuit in gratitude!

Now if you’ll excuse me, the contents of my freezer aren’t going to alphabetize themselves, you know.

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Do You Love or Hate This Layout?

Then run, monkeys! Run back to the old site and vote in the poll!

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Poll Time! Do You Hate This Layout, Or What?

Welcome to today’s installment of “Keeping Busy to Keep Teh Crazy At Bay!” So it’s poll time, my precious little squirrels. I want your opinions. Do ya hate Blogger? This layout give you a pain? Or are you as terrified of change as I am, and want nothing to change at Inverse Candlelight? Do you not care at all, with a vengeance, even?

I’ve made a mirror site at WordPress, and I’d love your opinion. Do we stay here, on our comfy Blogger couch, or move on up to the East Side? Take a look over at WordPress, and come back to vote in the poll! Please? I’ll give you a hug!

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eHarmony Can eBite Me

I am a single woman. Free as a bird. No strings attached. Woo, feminism and hear me roar and let me burn that bra. No man for me! My bathroom is so clean!

It sucks.

It sucks, and I don’t care if all the militants are getting the vapors, I am being honest. I am lonely as hell, and after over two years (YEARS) of being single, I have had just about enough of it. I’m not the random hookup kind of gal, (not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not my bag, man) and since I don’t have any friends in the area, I don’t so much…leave my apartment. Ever. I have awesome, tremendous, fiercely loved friends, don’t get me wrong, and I’d waltz through blazing fires for any of them, but there’s not a one of them who could just randomly come over for a cup of coffee and a bad movie. Not an option. Yeah. Suck.

“So go out!” my friends wail. “Meet people! Do things! Stop spending eleventy million hours on the internet every day and go interact with actual people!” Well, this is easier said than done. For one, where the hell do I go? My whole adult life, the only social venues I have utilized are friends’ houses and bars. And I am not allowed to go to bars anymore, in case you haven’t heard. I have crippling social anxiety, and the concept of New People terrifies me. No new people! Only people who have read the dossier regarding Mah Crazy: Let Me Show You It! For I am vair, vair uninterested in having to carefully reveal the dramz to anyone new. I have a feeling it would end with “and then he ran away like his dick was on fire.”

And to be honest, I was really destroyed by my last breakup. I’m not going to trust a new person for a really long time. There are also other factors of acursed circumstance that the internet doesn’t get to hear, but yeah, going out and finding a local cat to start the awkward beginning-dating thing? Eeesh. Not really interested, thanks.

I can just picture my personal ad now:

“SWF seeks SM for possible LTR. Enjoys tv, playing on the internet, yarn, and coffee. SM must be open to mental illness, addiction recovery, arts and crafts addiction, pop-culture obsession, random goofiness, clumsiness, and cleaning up after barfy cats. Please have a job, your own apartment, a wicked sense of humor, and a bank account of your very own. No man-children, meanies, or frattys, please. Email only, the phone gives me anxiety attacks.”

Woo, buddy, they’d be knocking down the door! Not that I’d ever place a personal ad. I have been on one (1) personal-ad date in my life, about five years ago. It was awful. But not in the way you probably guess. Nope, he was gorgeous, talented, funny, smart, (did I mention gorgeous?) and, drum roll…HE DIDN’T LIKE ME. Oh, that’s just GRAND. So no. No personal ads.

(At this point, my friend cuparfyfe is eating his own face and screaming at the computer screen about how all I do is self-sabotage and dig my own grave re: relationships. He is…not wrong.)

So what the hell is my point, for the love of God’s argyle socks? What was the reasoning for this blithering rant, when clearly I am not actually going to DO anything about this situation other than point at myself and howl “UNLOVABLE!!! MENTALLY DISEASED!!! RUN AWAY!!!”

My point is that fucking eHarmony dot com should not use a dude who resembles Zippy the Pinhead in their commercials to motivate me to “find my match.” Do NOT call me, Zippy. And tell JoJo the Dogface Boy he doesn’t have to bother either. I’ll just play some Facebook Scrabble with my beloved, if not geographically convienient friends and knit more hats for the cats.

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Saturday Arts n Crafts!

Saturday is Craftyday!

Must keep busy. Shark Week too exciting to stay still.
Not unlike Mme. LaFarge, knitting away for France.

Tada! Am v. talented and fabulous.

One word about my knitting hat and I’ll gut you like chum.

Have a lovely weekend, internet!

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