Lost Souls Unite

I’ve been off of Twitter since Elon Musk did his thing and I haven’t missed it one bit. Mostly because I was never really on it to begin with, it was more out of necessity for some things I was involved in, but every once in a while I would get to watch a live Twitter battle unfold and it was fun enough to take up part of my afternoon. Luckily, I am on Instagram, where screenshots of crazy Tweets go to die and I stumbled upon one today that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Full transparency, I Googled it to make sure it was real because it is so absurd, and yes, it was real, though it is a couple years old. I’m kicking myself trying to figure out how I didn’t see this back in 2021, but at least it made into my orbit now. Ladies and ladies, please see this Tweet from Candace Owens from March of 2021:

I have questions.

And actually, I have some concerns too. I mean, I’m no doctor, but this seems like it might be a prolapse issue that only some serious work on the pelvic floor could help.

In the least, the “popping” is concerning to me, but also intriguing? I thought my higher self knew how the world worked, but here I am, 41 years old and trying to figure out how I could possibly have missed popping my vagina into someone else’s vagina. I just feel shame. Forgotten about. Wronged.

I won’t assume Candace Owens thinks vaginas are detachable, but I will assume she thinks that vagina popping for power is a legitimate trade deal of the, what, United Nations? Chinese Government? OSHA? Who has the power? Who gets the power? And who can leverage the power in front of the world?

Questions. Just a lot of unanswered questions.

Most of all, why can’t I make my husband a sandwich?

Please advise.


Pinch Me

I’m Irish. Most of my life I was told I am but I was still surprised when my DNA test came back. My mother told me that my grandfather’s family was from Ireland. She said they were poor and left around the time of the potato famine. But, she also told me that my grandmother was a Native American princess and I have zero Native American in my ancestry, so who’s to say what is what. My people come from Southern Ireland, the real deal, sovereign state where the Irish Mob reigns supreme. In fact, when my people first left the tried to give it a go in London, which makes sense, that’s where I’d go if I were a farm peasant, but it didn’t suite them, even though they had some potatoes there just weren’t enough bars. So, they left again this time for the FR FR Promised Land of Bath County, Kentucky, USA!

So I mean, technically my people are from the UK and UK (Go Wildcats!) The point is, you can pinch me or not pinch me it doesn’t really matter, what really matters is that today is a special day. Today is the anniversary of my first date with Jerimiah.

Twenty one years ago today we stood on the street in Kansas City watching the St. Paddy’s revelers run amok and we gave a cheers with our green beers and decided to try this thing out. As it turns out Jerimiah is not Irish, so his luck was running thin, meanwhile I hit the jackpot that day.

Cheers to 21 years! And poor, poor peasant people.