HEY! Need Some New Bathroom Decor? May I Suggest FLATTENED MARBLES?

LOOK AT THEM. THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL.

Do you ever walk into your bathroom, look around, and think to yourself, "This room is missing something?"

Something of the decorative variety?

Something shiny but still subdued? Something small in size but big in ambiance?

Maybe what you need is...some flattened marbles. 

I know what you're thinking. "But, Bethany, I'm not the flattened marbles type! I would never dream of putting a large bag of flattened marbles into a vase and setting it on top of my toilet tank for others to gaze at in wonder." But trust me when I say that anyone can be the flattened marbles type. It's easy!

Step 1: Decide you're going to buy some flattened marbles.

Step 2: Go to a store that sells flattened marbles.

Step 3: Find the flattened marbles aisle. If you can't find it, ask an associate for help. If the associate doesn't know where the flattened marbles are, just walk up and down the aisles until you find flattened marbles.

Step 4: Pick up some flattened marbles. They might come in a bag. They might come in a box. Either way, they will be flat and they will be marbles. Be sure to choose your flattened marbles in a color that matches your bathroom decor!

Step 5: Purchase the flattened marbles using money that you'll find in your wallet.

Step 6: Take your flattened marbles home and put them in something like a jar or a vase or any other see-through receptacle that is not filled with something else at the time.

Step 7: Put it on the back of your toilet!

Step 8: Look at those shiny and beautiful flattened marbles.

Now, I know you have questions, and I am prepared to answer all of them.

What makes flattened marbles so special? 
I'm so glad you asked. They are marbles, but flat. Like God himself stepped on them with his huge, blessed, marble-flattening feet.

Will these marbles roll away?
NO. They're flattened, and physics doesn't work that way.

If I put flattened marbles next to a dish of potpourri, is that okay?
Yes. Just know that the overpowering floral fragrance of your potpourri will make your flattened marbles less special.  

What do I do if someone asks me if they should invest in some flattened marbles?
Tell them yes, absolutely, and then offer to drive them to the flattened marbles store. 

Are the flattened marbles on the back of my toilet watching me poop?
No, flattened marbles don't have eyes or cerebral cortexes. They are marbles.

Are flattened marbles safe for human consumption?
Absolutely not. Don't eat flattened marbles or look at them for an extended period of time or you'll get a big, red ring on your butt from sitting on the toilet too long.  

Can I make my own flattened marbles with regular marbles and a heavy encyclopedia?
Not unless the encyclopedia is heated to marble melting temperatures beforehand and made of something flame retardant. 

Should I trust flattened marbles to do my taxes?
No. Flattened marbles do not have a degree in accounting.

Is flattened marbles single? And, if so, is he interested in marriage?
Flattened marbles are inanimate objects and therefore cannot engage in a matrimonial ceremony and lifelong partnership with you. But if they could, you would be very happy for the rest of your life.

Why don't I have some flattened marbles in my hand right this second?
Because you're sitting here reading this instead of going out and buying some flattened marbles.

An Elaborate and Unnecessary Apology to Megan, Whose Drink I Stole at Starbucks

"Indeed," Bethany said, while twirling her mustache around her finger.

If your name is Megan and you ordered a drink at Starbucks this morning and then went to the counter to wait for your drink, only to discover that someone had stolen it, this blog post is for you.

I'm sorry.

It was me. I took your venti iced coffee with the name "Megan" written on the side. I did not notice that the drink said "Megan" and not "Bethany" until I got to the office. I even put unsweetened almond milk in it, which is a thing I'm sure you would never do.

Here is my elaborate apology. I hope you enjoy it while sipping slightly inferior coffee from a cup that clearly says "Bethany" and not "Megan."


An Elaborate and Unnecessary Apology to Megan, Whose Drink I Stole at Starbucks

Once upon a time, a beautiful person named Megan went to Starbucks and ordered a venti iced coffee. She paid for it with her hard-earned money and then walked over to the counter to patiently wait for her beverage.

But unbeknownst to Megan, her drink would never arrive. For it had been stolen several minutes before.

Stolen by whom?

By Bethany.

Bethany was a horrible, horrible villain with a heart so dark it was made of licorice-flavored jelly beans and that tar stuff they use to fill potholes. People often crossed the street when they saw her coming because they were so afraid that she would run over and take their drinks without asking and then scamper away, giggling gleefully. As a result of her cruel caffeinated drink-taking, Bethany was hyper pretty much all the time.

Here are some other things you should know about Bethany.

1. She has been fired from babysitting not once but three times, and she thinks that's really funny because why would ANYONE put her in charge of child care? She openly admits to thinking that 99.9999999 percent of the world's children are total buttholes.

2. She did not post anything about the tragedy in Oklahoma on her Facebook today.

3. She warms up fish in the office microwave.

4. If she goes on a date with a guy and he sucks, she will not bother to "let him down easy." She just won't call him back ever again.

5. She threw out some batteries recently because she was too lazy to take them to the battery recycling center.

6. She thinks that your favorite movie from childhood, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, is the worst thing that has ever slithered past her eyelids and into her brain.

7. She laughed when Bambi's mom died.

8. One time someone invited her to a super fun birthday party, and Bethany was all, "Nah," and stayed home and played video games instead.

Now that you know what a horrible person Bethany is, you can fully understand why she would take someone else's coffee. She was very dastardly indeed, and that is why everyone in the whole world hated her.

Luckily, many years after the events in this story unfolded, Bethany died, and her reign of terror came to an end. I hope that this news eases your suffering, Megan.

More Crafting with Bethany: Making Your Own BioShock Infinite Choker

I spent the weekend doing stuff. Here is the fruit of my labors, another video about doing more hateful crafting.

Broke Time, Flip-Flop Injuries, and My Evil Insurance Company

Would you excuse me? I cut my foot before, and my shoe is filling up with blood.

The hardest time of the month for me is that period between the first of the month and the 15th. That is the period I like to call "Broke Time." My rent check has gone through. All of my utility bills are paid. And I'm finally left with about $200 that I have to stretch and stretch in order to buy the essentials like groceries and shampoo for a very long fifteen days. During "Broke Time," don't even ask me to the movies or dinner because I'll just tell you, "Maybe, you adorable friend," while I really mean, "Look at old money bags over here with his big, fat wallet that can afford to see a movie right now. You know, I always kind of hated him."

Broke Time was particularly hard this month because last week, smack in the middle of Broke Time, I suffered a severe flip-flop injury. How does one suffer a severe flip-flop injury? Well, I'll tell you. I went for a very long walk while also wearing flip-flops. At the end of the night, my left foot sort of hurt. The next day, it still hurt. And now it's been seven days, it continues to hurt, and I think I maybe part of my foot broke off or something because this is not normal. Right?

Now, before you begin your lecture on how flip-flops are a terrible choice for footwear, let me just stop you right there. I hear you. I understand. I already know. But, for fifteen days out of the month, I have $200 to live on. I don't really care much about arch support when I can buy a pair of flip-flops for $5. So, take your amateur podiatrist lectures and drive over to Warren Buffet's house in your solid gold dickmobile because I'm seriously not interested.

This is the part where I apologize for implying that you own a solid gold dickmobile. Also, I'm sure your amateur podiatry lectures are reasonably priced and quite informative. I'm just a little bit testy because of the next part of my story. Are you ready for it?

My mom always said that if something still hurts after seven days, you should definitely get someone to look at it. I decided to go see my doctor, as she tends to be a good judge of these things, due to her many years of medical school. Yesterday, May 14, was the last day of Broke Time and the only day I could get in for an appointment. I had $13 in my bank account, not even half of the amount of money I needed to pay my copay. "Maybe my foot doesn't really hurt that bad," I thought. And then I stepped kind of weird and remembered that, yes, it did actually hurt. I reluctantly handed over my credit card.

My doctor looked at the foot. She didn't scream or anything, so I took that as a good sign. "It's probably just inflamed," she said. And then she wrote me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory cream that was probably just mayonnaise that had gone bad and the President of Hellman's was like, "I know what we can use this for." 

I took the prescription to the pharmacy. Now, I know that it isn't the pharmacy's fault that my insurance company is the worst. But I can always tell that they take a certain pleasure in telling me the full price of something when it isn't covered by my insurance. "That will be $472!" they chirp merrily, rather than delivering it the way horrible news should be delivered, which is tied around the ankle of a dead raven.

"That will be $114!" the pharmacy cashier practically tittered when she rang up my anti-inflammatory foot cream.

"Uh, I take it that my insurance isn't covering this," I said.

"Nope!" said the cashier, jolly as ever.

This news was unsurprising, as they refuse to cover the most random things. One time I went in for x-rays, which were covered. But the additional x-rays I had to get afterward weren't.

I didn't even take my credit card out and look at it in utter devastation. I didn't even open my wallet. I just said, "Nope," and limped away.

Now, I would just like to take this moment to say that having health insurance is an incredible privilege, as is having a job that pays me over minimum wage. I am 100 percent aware of the fact that while I'm not doing great or even good, I'm okay. Like if there were a plague epidemic going around, I'd be one of those people who gets a few pustules and a fever for a few days and then recovers and gets out of bed and goes on with my life but with a dark, devastated, lost look in my eyes forever after. I would rather be that than one of those pustule riddled corpses at the very bottom in the corpse wagon that only Old-Eyed Bartholomeus can stand to look at without screaming. I am very, very lucky and do not, for one second, take it all for granted.

But lopping off my leg at the knee and hopping around like some kind of deranged Hershel on The Walking Dead is looking better and better every day.

Just in case it comes to that, does anyone have a saw that I can borrow? 

A 100 Percent True Follow Up to My Earlier Story About My Mom

MISS PIGGY FOREVER.

I talked to my mom this morning, and as expected, she was very angry and vengeful about the article I posted about her for Mother's Day. She even threatened to make spinach soufflé for me next time I visit.

So, I thought I should mention that the Miss Piggy part of the story is 100 percent true. My mom did sell my Miss Piggy doll at a garage sale when I was a child and made me very sad.

But then! Many years later, she went on Ebay and found a replacement. Miss Piggy was still in her box and was just as glamorous as ever. My mom watched that auction like a hawk, probably staying up late, late into the night in order to win Miss Piggy for me. That's a huge thing because normally my mom can't stay awake past 8 PM.

"You should leave her in the box," Mom said when she gave me my birthday present, "so that one day you can sell her for a lot of money."

But I said, "OH HELL NO MOM THAT'S CRAZY TALK." And Miss Piggy came out of her original packaging and gets her hair brushed and outfits changed every other month or so. She has a Pigs in Space costume, you guys.

So, now you know 100 percent of the truth.

I stand by my statement, however, that the spinach soufflé was inedible and probably deadly.

Updates on My OKCupid Profile

Just chilling out at home.

Well, it's that time again. Time for me to strap on my creativity cleats and take the field that is OKCupid with a brand new, updated profile. But before we do that, let us look back on the glory that was Black Widow Murderer Bethany. She got almost no responses because people were so afraid of her, but she will always live on in my heart as the one who got away. From the police.

Here is the actual profile write up. You can click to enlarge it. Or just put on some embarrassingly enormous reading glasses.

I love to cook!

Definitely not planning a sudden and unexpected trip to Rio.

What? I can't hear you. I'll come closer.

Now, what were you saying?

No, really. WHAT WERE YOU SAYING?

Rio, here I come!

A 100 Percent True Thing I Wrote About My Mom

Mom, just doing stuff around the house

If there is one thing I love to do, it's to write things about my mom and then have her read them so that she will say, "I never did that. People are going to think I'm horrible!" 

Just like she will do when she reads the above sentence. 

So, it's Mother's Day, right? And I thought I should write something about my mom that is 100 percent true and in extremely good taste. Here goes. 

A 100 Percent True Thing I Wrote About My Mom

The most important thing to know about my mom is that she is extremely vengeful. It's very important that you don't forget that as I tell you this story. 

Hey, remember that time one sentence ago when I said not to forget that my mom is vengeful? DON'T FORGET IT.

I believe it was that very vengeance that led her to take my Miss Piggy doll and sell her at that garage sale that time against my wishes.

"Mwahahahahahahahahahahaha! Vengeance is mine!" is what I'm pretty sure she said at the time, while I cried and cried. 

But why would a mother do such a thing? Why take revenge on a small, innocent, and adorable child who never did a thing wrong in her whole lifetime? I'm glad you asked.

BECAUSE OF THE SPINACH SOUFFLÉ INCIDENT. THAT'S WHY.

"What spinach soufflé incident?" you might be asking, if your curiosity is piqued and you're still awake.

Well, let me tell you about it. 

My mom made dinner one time, and the dinner was called SPINACH SOUFFLÉ. It was eggs, spinach, cheese of some sort, and dragon vomit. At least we're pretty sure that's what was in it because it was the worst thing I've ever put in my mouth, and I've put yams in my mouth, so you know it's gotta be pretty bad. Bad enough to probably die from.

We were all like, "What is this?" 

Mom said, "It's spinach soufflé, and you're going to eat it." 

"What's in it?" we asked.

"I'll never tell you," she said, "but definitely poison and some other things."

"You're the meanest mom!" we cried. 

She said nothing in response, but she didn't need to because red hot laser beams shot from her eyes and melted my brother. 

"You'd better eat your dinner," our dad said. He was pretty scared too. I could tell because he began to force feed himself several bites of spinach soufflé while crying silent tears. 

I put a bite of the spinach soufflé in my mouth and then gagged and gagged and tried to put myself up for adoption.

What was left of my siblings did the same. 

"You will all clean your plates," Mom said. "And when I say 'clean your plates' I'm referring to you eating all of that spinach soufflé, but afterward you will all literally be cleaning your plates because it will be time to wash all of the dishes and all of our neighbors' dishes as well while your father and I go watch Night Court." 

We ate and ate as hard as we could, but our plates were still completely covered with spinach soufflé after thirty seconds.

I tried to feed some to our dog without anyone noticing, but the taste was so horrible, he immediately ran away to find a new family. 

"Now you've done it," Mom said. "I'm extra mad now. You know what that means?" 

We all screamed.

"That's right," Mom continued. "This means....DESSERT."

And suddenly Mom swooped down like an evil bat and gave us each a scoop of ice cream. But while you're thinking that sounds very nice and non-vengeful of her, just know that it was SPINACH SOUFFLÉ ICE CREAM that she had prepared in advance.

It was at this point that, exhausted and hungry from being totally mean and vengeful, Mom finally picked up a fork and stabbed her own piece of spinach soufflé. 

I think it was at that point that she realized that the spinach soufflé really was terrible. Because twenty minutes later, I saw her feeding the rest of it to the chickens and frowning very vengefully. I told everyone, and it was because of that terrible error in judgment, I was later separated permanently from Miss Piggy.

That's the end of the dark, terrible, and 100 percent true story about my mom. Whatever you do, don't tell her you read it because she'll just deny the whole thing.