Tag Archives: parents




Oh hey, WordPress. I broke my “post once a month” rule. Crap.

And here to make up for it is a list of asinine questions, none of which I really need an answer to, but they’re funny so whatever.

  1. Now that my ex-boyfriend is engaged to my ex-roommate, will he change his HBOGo password? Because my life will be ruined without full Jon Snow access.
  2. Is there any real possibility of convincing my parents to NOT vote for Trump? I’ve tried almost everything. Welcome to new ideas.
  3. Why are crime podcasts the best thing on the planet and am I a psychopath for loving listening to murder stories so much? My Favorite Murder and In the Dark are my latest obsessions–check them out if you’re a weirdo like me. Also, (not to answer my own question) I think I like them partly because they play into my extreme anxiety and constant paranoia. Now I can quote 1980s court cases if someone makes fun of me for locking my doors meticulously (and checking to make sure they’re locked).
  4. Why do rapists often times serve little to NO jail time? Everyone should watch Audrie & Daisy on Netflix…it’s sickening but important, for teenagers especially. I wish it were appropriate to show in my classroom–I’d love for my students to watch and learn about a) the true meaning of consent b) the horror social media can cause and c) the repercussions of your actions and how some mistakes can haunt you (and others) forever.

On that bright and shiny note, I leave you. Off to try a “salt cave session”…I don’t even know. The Groupon obsession continues.

Mardi, like Mardi Gras


That’s what I always tell people—“Mardi, Like Mardi Gras”—when they ask what our dog’s name is. I just don’t want them thinking it’s “Marty”…even though it’s really pronounced the same. Plus, they just gotta know the whole story, about how we rescued him from Katrina (it wasn’t just people who evacuated to Texas). Mom and Dad were coming up with the most awful New Orleans-themed names…Gumbo, Jambalaya, Moon Pie. And then of course there’s Mom telling my racist grandfather that she’d adopted a black baby from Louisiana. Priceless.

Anyway, it’s strange how an animal can be such an integral part of your family. I never had any brothers or sisters growing up, so our pets were always siblings of sort. I was super close to Mardi, but I guess I only just realized that, after he passed away last night.

He was acting a little sick all day, and when my parents took him to the vet, they said a mass on his spleen had ruptured and there was nothing they could do—they had to put him down.

I got the news while I was on my way home and just…lost it. My parents are even more upset—they’re the ones at home with him every day, spoiling him rotten.

This one particular memory keeps floating back in pieces today—of Mardi comforting me a few years ago. I was sobbing, so much so that I had sunken onto the floor beside my bed. My dad had just told me that he was really sick—prostate cancer. He’s fine now, thank goodness, but at the time, all I could think of was the worst possible ending. Mardi kept nudging me with his wet nose, whimpering a little, licking a few tears. He sat next to me and I hugged his furry neck and I felt, momentarily, better.

Some people think it’s insane to grieve for a pet just as we grieve for lost grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends…but mourning after the loss of love does not come with a rulebook.  Love is love.

And Mardi, you were definitely loved, little brother.

Miss you.