Yes, but only if you acknowledge Michonne as Queen.

The secret is to watch a lot of zombie movies in your downtime.

Since I rage quit my horrible job 2 months ago, I haven't found anything that really suited me, so I've been getting my housewife on. And horror of horrors, I like it. I prefer to think of it as "preparing for the zombie apocalypse aftermath" since I'm also gardening and cooking delicious food on a very small budget, and canning and all that shit. Which brings us to slow cooker recipes...

Slowcooker Applesauce:
1) Go pick about 10 pounds of apples off the neighbor's tree that leans over your fence. If you don't pick them, you'll get bears, so you're really just doing the whole neighborhood a favor.

2) Realize that you have to peel, core, and chop about 10 pounds of apples. Swear loudly about your life choices while trying to find the vegetable peeler.

3) After taking a break so your hands don't fall off, put all the apple chunks in the slowcooker with about a cup and a half of sugar (adjust to taste), half a cup of water or apple peel tea, and a cinnamon stick if you're being fancy, 2 teaspoons to a tablespoon of the ground stuff if you're not. Stir it all up.

4) Put the cooker on low, and come back in 4 hours. Poke the apples with a spoon. If they're squishy, mash them down with a potato masher. If not, wait an hour, and poke them with a spoon to make sure.

5) Let cool, after you grab a small bowl's worth to test for poison, then serve.

From the ages of 14 to 18, I hung out with gutter-goths on the SF Peninsula (Shout out to San Mateo Central Park!). Spud, BigD, LittleD, Stimpy, MarTIN (who looked like crackpipe Jesus) were some of the characters in this tawdry play. There are many, many stories. I think my favorite is also the reason why I cannot with any sort of whiskey.

The park we hung out in backed up to a strip mall. One night, after we'd been chased out of the park by the cops, 5 of us ended up sitting around in a circle, in the back of a white van in the strip mall parking lot with no windows or seats, passing around a bottle of JD, followed by a bottle of SoCo to chase it, followed by a bottle of Fruitopia because it was 1998. Repeat.

Repeat until a quarter to midnight, and we realize we're going to be late to Rocky Horror. The owner of the van was not going, leaving our incredibly drunk asses to try and catch a bus. Except at least one of our merry group can hardly walk. Thankfully, one of my High School besties was working in the strip mall, and was just coming off his shift, and offered to give 4 stupid-drunk people a ride. In his 2 seater Datsun pickup.

Being drunk in the back of a pick up may be one of the worst decisions you could ever make. Lying down and moving at high speeds is not to be attempted while shitfaced. The 3 of us in the back somehow managed to not puke until we got to stoplights. We got to Rocky, they let us in (smelling of booze and puke and clearly being underage), where we got kicked out not long after when someone passed out on the bathroom floor. We all walked (I think? It gets hazy about here) to my mom's tiny 1 bedroom apartment, more horking along the way, and commandeered a floor. Wake up to the worst hangover I've ever had and will ever have, and mom offering up a nice huge greasy plate of fried eggs.

That woman is amazing at punishing a hangover.

Never ever send a dick pic unless you are specifically requested to send a dick pick. That's just manners.

Mine's a sound-based phobia (thunder), but I have no issues when it's in the movies, or TV, or music. Yay for weird brain quirks?

Thunder. Not lightning, but just the thunder. Lightning's pretty. Thunder is horrifying. Sends me into full-blown panic attacks. When it gets stormy, I plug in some awesome earbuds, put on music with some really heavy bass, and shove my face into a book, just hoping that it doesn't hit close enough to the house to make it shake, because then all bets are off.

Incredibly silly because it's the bit that can't hurt me that makes me panic.

Next Friday, I'm going to stay in a fancy cabin in the woods near a very large lake for the weekend, with loads of free food and booze. It's nice when your sibling-in-laws are From Money, and are insistent on sharing.

The Nopetepus. Always the Nopetepus.

For Happy-Fun-Time isopod horror movies (because why not), The Bay is fricking awesome. And terrifying. And on the Netflix and Amazon Prime last I checked.