I Swear, Any Second Now…

Today is an auspicious day for posting. I mean, come on. It’s Easter and April Fools’ Day. That’s a great combination and it needs to be posted on, that’s what I decided… several weeks ago.
Then again, I also decided I’d post on Valentine’s Day. Something funny, slightly abrasive, mocking the absurdity of the overly commercial holiday (that started with death and now involves flowers and teddy bears) but eventually giving in and agreeing to compromise–we could celebrate Singleness Appreciation Day, and you could give chocolate to all the people in your life that just don’t care about this thing you call ‘romance’. (It’s been several years since the first time I was told ‘you’ll change your mind when you get older’. How old are we talking, here?) But, as you know, I did not post on Valentine’s Day, and it took me a good while to actually start working on a post for today… and there’s only one crook to blame.

Wanted, dead or–actually, just dead, not sure you can find it in any other condition.

Now the question is, why? What makes this scoundrel such an evasive, tricky thing? We here at Locked Girl put our best men on this case, and here’s what they have to say:

“We really thought we were getting somewhere at first, but then we just needed to take a break for a while.” –Group A

“We weren’t getting anywhere. What was the point?” –Group B

“…zzzzzz…” –Group D

“Ooh, shiny!” –Group E

“…” –Group F, too busy playing Candy Crush


Okay, this is absurd. I’m going to have to do something about this at once. And I will, really, I will.

Just… give me a couple of minutes…

The Adventure of the Purple Fingers

One morning, when Locked Girl woke from troubled dreams, she found herself transformed in her bed into a horrible vermin.

I’m kidding. Not about the ‘troubled dreams’ part, that’s true enough, it involved a lot of clothes hangers and sharks, as I recall. Lots of sharks.

I love sharks. But I also hate them. I could go on for ages about sharks, but I won’t, because that’s not the point.

What is the point is that someone–I don’t know who–is trying to kill me.

When I woke up this morning, at approximately 5:25, as I recall, things seemed normal at first. A little stiff, a little sore–nothing unusual since going off the nerve pain medication–but it didn’t last. Soon enough I noticed something unusual.

My hands… something was wrong. They were numb, incredibly itchy, and then–well, then the pain started. I didn’t know what was going on. I didn’t know why they were like that–and when I looked at them, I only freaked out more. My fingers were discolored and swollen, and it wasn’t over yet.

Hours passed. I was prevented from going to school by the startling events, and on top of that prevented from doing… well, pretty much anything using my hands, in order to try and keep things from getting worse. Which is, well, most of the things I normally do. Write, play piano, so many things I was rendered incapable of doing… It was incredibly frustrating. I was essentially reduced to watching television… for hours and hours… until finally, I was able to see a doctor. It was deemed an allergic reaction–that I touched something that I shouldn’t have. And I was given medicine for it, and it seems to have helped… which leads to the question, just what did I touch?

No one can recall anything that might have caused it, and the strangest part is the near-perfectly symmetrical effects on my hands.

A strange reaction with odd effects and an unknown cause…

It’s very simple, really. If there’s nothing new that I could have touched to cause it, it must have been something that I’ve touched before. However, that would beg the question–what was different about it now, that it would cause such a severe reaction?

(You should have seen my hands… they looked like marshmallows. Large, purple marshmallows.)

As I said, it’s simple. Someone introduced a foreign substance into my belongings–possibly on the keyboard of the very laptop I’m using now–with the intent to induce a fatal reaction. Unfortunately for them, the agent only affected my hands, and nothing else, leaving their attempt a failure…

Of course, that means that they’ll be left with no choice but to try again. This time, however, I know what they’re up to. This time, I’ll be waiting.

I don’t know who it is or why they’re after me, but whoever you are, I know what you’re trying to do. And I’ll play your little game… I’ve got nothing better to do, after all.

So come on, then.

I’m waiting.

I’m Just Here For The Pie

Well, it’s the day after Thanksgiving. And boy, am I relieved that it’s over.

I mean, Thanksgiving is great and all, but in my position it’s just awkward. See, I’m very hypersensitive(more on that in a future post) and one of the biggest ways this manifests is when it comes to food. Taste, texture, whatever it happens to be–most of the food I’ve encountered in my life I have utterly despised… it’s simply unpalatable. It makes life very difficult.

And Thanksgiving is basically a food holiday. That’s pretty much it. There’s reasons behind it and all, but the big thing that happens on Thanksgiving is that people eat


Anyway, I’m sure you can see why this is awkward. For example, yesterday the food didn’t all fit on the table, and I ate three things, not counting dessert. Count ’em–three. That was all I could handle. Thankfully they were three very delicious things, but still–that should serve as an indicator of how serious this problem is.

Luckily, dessert was also delicious. *winks*


In short, in case any of you looked at the world around you and asked ‘What do I have to be thankful for this year?’ the answer is that your taste buds don’t hate you(unless you’re like me and they do, in which case, well, you know what I’m talking about). That is what you can be thankful for. Take my word for it, your life would be a lot harder otherwise.

But also, be thankful for pumpkin pie, because that stuff is great.

Guess Who’s Back, Back Again

As you’ve probably already guessed, Locked Girl has returned from surgery… Locked Girl is, of course, still in the hospital. But she is alive, for those of you who might have grown concerned… Rather sore, but alive, and mostly fine. And not crooked anymore!

…Being on painkillers has certainly been… interesting. I’ve been somewhere between slightly loopy and fast asleep for the past several days now… and I’m definitely tired, my vision keeps blurring. This is unnatural.

*commence yawning*

But yeah, long story short, my back hurts, my stomach is kind of swollen, and I am in rather severe discomfort at the moment. There is basically nowhere that I can get comfortable. Which is only to be expected, I suppose, since I’m in this state. By which, of course, I mean ‘the state of recovering from major surgery’, not the state in which I live or the one in which I currently reside. As if that wasn’t enough, the drugs have been making it nearly impossible to write properly, which is insanely frustrating. Spelling and grammar mistakes are my enemies. And yet they keep popping up like a particularly persistent pestilence. For example, just a little while ago I first wrote ‘dedide’ instead of ‘reside’. How did I manage this fantastic error? I wish I knew. Instead, all I know is that writing on drugs is difficult. Don’t try it at home, kids. For everyone’s sake.

Tick-Tock Goes the Clock, and Holy Snickerdoodle That Was Fast


By which I mean, holy snickerdoodle, that was fast. An entire month, come and gone in a flash… Poof! Now you see it, now you don’t, the year is quicker than the eye. Et cetera.

By which I mean, well, my dear readers, it’s that time of the month, and by ‘that time of the month’ I mean that it is the 29th of October, 2017, and tomorrow is surgery time. Pretty crazy, huh? I scarce believe it myself. Then again, everyone else is all in a tizzy over it, so I suppose it must be real… but to quote an eternally wise and eternally crazy person that I wholeheartedly approve of with every fiber of my nutty little being, ‘I don’t function well in reality’. Anyone who knows who I am referring to, go and get yourself a cookie, you deserve it, you awesome, beautiful person. Anyone who doesn’t know…

Well, you’re most likely part of a comfortable majority, so feel good about yourself, I guess. I’ll be over here with my hipster glasses.

You’ve probably never heard of them.

A Moment of Silence

When is it going to stop?

I’m not going to lie; I’m not really surprised by these things anymore. The human capacity for cruelty and evil no longer shocks me. I’m cynical, it’s true. One of the most cynical people I know, if not the most.

So when I heard about the shooting in Las Vegas, I wasn’t surprised. I wasn’t shocked. Appalled, yes. Angry, yes. Sad, yes. But not surprised.

I don’t know anyone who was hurt or killed. I have no connection with the event other than the fact that I live in the same country. I have no idea of the depths of pain and grief that is being experienced right now, on behalf of those who were lost. I don’t know the same fear for the lives of the wounded that their families and friends do.

However, that doesn’t mean I feel nothing. Chances are that no one connected with this horrific tragedy will ever read this–but if, against all odds, you lost or might lose someone in the shooting:

You are not alone.

At a time like this, you no doubt feel pain that I can’t even begin to imagine. If a loved one was wounded, you fear for them. This is not wrong. It is not something to be ashamed of. You have every right to feel anger, sadness, pain, terror. Just remember that, no matter how difficult things are in this time of trial, you are not alone. There are people you can turn to, there are people who will support you. You don’t have to grieve on your own.

The only way I can reach you is with this message. I can’t physically support you. I can’t be a shoulder for you to cry on, I can’t hug you or simply be there with you. But there are people who can. Please, go to them. They will do what I can’t.

At the very least, you will be in my prayers. It may not mean much to you, but it’s all I really have to offer.

As for the rest of you, those who, like me, are unconnected to this tragedy, let’s have a moment of silence and prayer for those killed or wounded, and for those left behind.

And to the dead, rest in peace.

Welcome to October, Have a Nice Day

I love sarcasm. I mean, I really, really love it. It’s so versatile. You can use it for mere snark, or to punch people in the face with words, since actually punching people in the face is generally frowned upon. Thankfully, there is no such social taboo surrounding sarcasm, allowing you to deal with all the annoying and/or generally stupid people you have the misfortune of having in your life, often without them even realizing that you just insulted them to their face.

Now you may be wondering ‘why on earth is she talking about this’? Well, the answer is that October is, among many other things, National Sarcasm Month! Unless you live in a different country in which case… well, it’s not like sarcasm becomes any less effective if you live somewhere else. Unless you speak a language that doesn’t translate sarcasm well. But then again, if you speak English as well, you can still be sarcastic, and if you don’t then you are left unable to read this and thus all of this rambling is a moot point.

In other news, we survived the apocalypse–

This time, I will forgive you. This time.

Which should be no surprise to any of us, after the guy who predicted it said ‘wait nope never mind’. Guess I’m having surgery after all. Which is good, because it’s been scheduled and the date is October 30… so if I post something that makes no sense in that general time frame, it’s probably the painkillers.


Or maybe I’m just being my usual incomprehensible self, which is always, always, always an option. Which reminds me of something else–October 6 is National Mad Hatter Day.

This pleases me.

And on top of all that, this month is home to my brother’s birthday and, of course, the creepiest time of the year… for those not lying in a hospital bed recovering from major surgery, of course. While I’m incapacitated, the rest of the world may, of course, continue as usual. Have fun! Dress up! Eat candy! Give your dentist enough money for that new yacht!

But for all of you who are still excited about It, well, um, you do you, but please do it somewhere else. Do not send clowns to my hospital room. Do not send clowns.


We’re All Going To Die

Well, folks, it looks like I won’t be having that surgery after all. Why? Simple. The world’s ending.

I mean. Never mind the fact that we’ve heard all this before and it wasn’t true, conspiracy theorists promise that this time it really will end.

They say this every time, but apparently learn nothing from it.


Pictured above: The only sane reaction.

How is it going to happen this time, you ask? Nibiru!




It’s supposed to happen on the 23rd of September(which, oddly enough, was supposed to be the end of the world two years ago as well), and the evidence for the apocalypse is as follows:

On the 23rd, a sign will appear that matches Revelations 12: 1-2:

And a great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was pregnant and was crying out in birth pains and the agony of giving birth.

Cheerful, isn’t it? Anyway, supposedly the ‘woman’ will be represented by the constellation of Virgo. ‘She’ will be ‘clothed with the sun’ due to the fact that on the 23rd, the sun will be in Virgo. The sun already spends about a month out of each year in each of the Zodiac constellations, so this isn’t unusual by itself, but there’s more to be said in that department. For another thing, the moon will also be in Virgo, aka ‘moon under her feet’, Jupiter will be in Virgo(I’m guessing that this is supposed to represent the pregnancy, but what do I know?) and finally, Leo(with nine stars) and Mercury, Venus, and Mars will form the ‘crown of twelve stars’.

Unfortunately, Leo is just a grouping of stars picked out by men. Some depictions have extra stars, so as usual in telling the future, much cherry-picking is required.

And this lovely arrangement has happened before, as well… four times in the last millennium.

But if that’s not enough evidence, allow me to refute the ‘biblical’ evidence with a plain and simple verse that those caught up in this theory appear to have overlooked–Matthew 24:36.

But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.

You wouldn’t think that would be hard to understand, but hey, if some Christians want to believe that they know something that is stated quite clearly to be known only by God–well, I guess that’s their problem, not mine.

Let’s just add a little reminder here that the first time someone decided that she wanted God’s knowledge, well…

Her name was Eve and I’m pretty sure we all know what happened next.

In short, feel free to keep planning your life out, people, I don’t think there’s going to be much of an issue.

And if the world does end, I’d prefer it to wait until after Christmas. Maybe New Year’s Eve. Everyone’s counting down and then the world ends. NO NEW YEAR FOR YOU.

See, now that would be a great time for the apocalypse.

S is for Snake, Spine, Scoliosis, Surgery… Surprise!

You might have already figured out where we’re going with this. Or maybe you already know, if you’re one of the people I’m acquainted with in the Reality Zone. But yes, in short, Locked Girl is getting surgery.

This whole thing started in early July, I believe… Or maybe late June. Anyway, there’s been this weird thing going with my left side for as long as I can remember(although apparently not that long, but then again I don’t exactly pay that much attention to my left side) and when a doctor finally took a look, he said to go and get myself X-rayed and such because it might be scoliosis.

Well. As it turned out, it was.


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For those of you going ‘is it really that serious?’ Why yes, yes it is. That top curve is somewhere in the early 40s(in terms of degrees), and I believe that lower curve is about 46, if I’m remembering correctly. That’s what we were told by the doctor we visited later, anyway. (Lovely woman. Very pleased by the outcome of the visit, even if it did require leaving the state.) She also said that there’s a decently high chance that it will progress further if left alone…

So, well, we could put me in a brace to try and slow the progression, which would still give me a 75% chance of needing corrective surgery down the road, or we could just take care of the surgery now.

Naturally, I went right for the quicker option. I mean, I’ve had surgery before(on my legs, admittedly, so less of a big deal) and a cousin has had the same surgery at the same hospital. (She has no regrets; it’s only caused one problem, which is to say preventing her from getting an epidural when she had kids… I have doubts as to whether that’ll ever be an issue for me.) So yes, sometime in November I’ll be going in and getting metal rods put in my back, so that’ll be interesting. I’ll have to stay in the hospital for a few days, but fear not, there is wi-fi there so I’ll be able to pop up and say ‘Hey, not dead’. (Unless I am, but that’s unlikely to happen.)

I almost want to try writing something on painkillers… I hear the more potent ones can mess with your head. Might be entertaining to read the result of that endeavor. Or terrifying. With me, you never really know what’s going to happen.

Anyway, that’s a thing that happened. It’ll definitely be interesting, if nothing else. And probably somewhat painful.



What Even Is This?

This is going to be a short one. It’s just been bugging me for a bit and I want to complain about it because it makes no sense.

To me, at least. For all I know, it’s perfectly sensible to everyone else. Not to me!

What am I talking about, you ask?

‘Waiting for my Romeo’. That’s what I’m talking about. People say that, apparently, and I don’t understand it, like, at all, whatsoever.

So you’re waiting for the guy that your family is going to hate, oh, and his family is going to hate you, too, huh? Or are you waiting for the guy that you’re going to find dead on the floor and commit suicide over? Or both?!


This is my brain on Romeo and Juliet.

I mean. Okay. The play is a super popular love story and such. That’s another thing I don’t understand. Why is it so popular?! The whole ‘tragedy’ part could have been avoided if Romeo and Juliet had just communicated with each other, if they’d actually said meaningful words like ‘Hey Romeo, my parents are marrying me off to someone I don’t love so I’m going to pretend to die in order to get out of it, please don’t think I’m actually dead and kill yourself’ instead of spending what little time they had together spouting nonsense. I don’t know much about love. I’ll admit that. But I’m pretty sure that it has to involve actual communication and not just pretty words. There’s a time and a place for that(and that is away from my view, thanks). There’s also a time and place for not being stupid.

So basically the entire reason it happened was because two teenagers confused infatuation for love and were idiots about it…

Oh. It makes sense now.