Hi there! Welcome to Semi-Irregular. I’m so glad you found your way here! If you’d like to receive my posts to your email (no spam, I promise) you can subscribe here:
Maybe I’ll start a ritual of taking an exxtra strength gummy on a Friday night and yapping on Substack. It’s a new moon, babes. And time passes. Even when it seems impossible.
Dumpling Soup
Sometimes the highlight of your week is going to be a great bowl of dumpling soup. And that’s okay. Those weeks are so important in the grand scheme of things. They allow us to find bliss in a perfectly savory broth, a spicy pork dumpling, extra green onions, and a plastic soup spoon. Imagine if we lowered our threshold for happiness from drastic life changes to a simple, wonderful meal. What would that world look like?
Hermit Girl Summer
Can we admit that staying in the house all weekend SLAPS? I don’t know about you extroverts, but I don’t need whatever is outside. Especially when it’s hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch out there. If I’ve got snacks, caffeine, and Wi-Fi then you can catch me enjoying my rent the whole weekend. Tonight, I’m rewatching Big Little Lies S1 because I never watched S2. Along with a few good books I’m reading and naps with my cats, I’m set.
Mid-Thirties Loading…
I turn 35 this month. Holy shit. I’m trying not to get all philosophical about it, but I’ve been thinking about what 14-year-old me would’ve thought 35 would look like. Truthfully, 14-year-old me didn’t think I’d ever see 35 so that little shit is probably pretty impressed. Maybe I’ll make a list of things that I really wanted to do at fourteen and haven’t done yet. Make 35 a year to catch up to who I wanted to be. That teenage dirtbag loved a challenge.
Summer Slashers
There is nothing purer in the world to me than the summer slasher genre of horror. Campgrounds, amusement parks, cornfields, lookout points, and beach towns. A killer on the loose and a hoard of drunk teenagers/young adults trying to outwit, outplay, outlast the rampage. I couldn’t imagine being in the thick Southern heat and trying to make it through a cornfield to escape some psycho in overalls with a knife. The gasping for breath would get me found real quick. At least I wouldn’t go out from a beehive in an outhouse. Yeah, eat shit and die, Bill.
Have a rad weekend, my dudes