Look at the stars, Aries. Look how they shine for you. Why are you wasting it? This October, your sign has all the luck. A spark of benevolence gleams down on you from somewhere out in the cosmos. For the leaders of the zodiac, this should be an easy-peasy month of wins. Except that it won’t be, because you keep dropping the ball.

Usually I’d tell you to get up and figure it out. Use your all-powerful Aries whatever to make the most of your time in the sun. But this month, that feels kinda bad. I’m looking, but I don’t see any bootstraps you can pull yourselves up by. Your shoes are untied, and they’re on the wrong feet.

If you don’t have it in you to use your cosmic fortune to go for it, you can still do something. You might not get a touchdown, but you could still score a field goal. Don’t worry if your shoe flies off when you make your kick.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Candy Corn

Taurus

Did you know that wombats have booty armor? Their padded butts help them escape predators. This October, Taurus natives everywhere get a kick in the glutes. The cosmic boot of disapproval is coming for you, and it has a big dollar sign on it. Money woes may be coming. What are you going to do?

If it were me, I'd channel the wombat. Here's how it goes: see a dingo, scurry into the burrow, and block the opening with your ass like Winnie the Pooh. Plug the hole. Don't let one red cent fall through your hands. It might not be the most dignified way to manage your problems, but it'll do the trick.

Once the danger has passed, peek your head out. It'll be worth it: money problems start to fade by the end of the month. The cosmic boot is replaced with a celestial backscratcher. Hooray for you.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: 100 Grand

Gemini

Hello out there! Yes, I’m talking to you! You have some explaining to do, Gemini. Where have you been, what have you been doing, and (most important) why have you been doing it? I’m not the only one asking; the people who actually like you are also looking for answers. That’s why October might be the month of cosmic comeuppance for you.

But this is not automatically a reason to fret. You’re not about to be tossed into some 31-day trial by fire. No, the more likely scenario is that people might just be kinda mad at you. You might wake up from a nap and find a wall of text from your BFF that ends with a big ol’ WTF. As in: WTF is the matter with you?

Take your time to explain yourself. You don’t have to answer every jab with a poke of your own. Congrats to you for your hilarious genius, but sometimes people just want to have a conversation. Come out from wherever you’ve been hiding and atone for your sins.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Snickers

Cancer

For some reason the Sonic Youth song “Hot Wire My Heart” came to mind when I sat down to write this. Being indifferent to Sonic Youth, I would prefer another song. But being the 100% accurate and wholly trusted intermediary between you and the cosmos, I’m taking it seriously. Surely this must be a sign.

Unfortunately, it could be a sign of just about anything. My guess? You’re feeling a bit disconnected and need to take a look under the hood. So this month, I think you should put the proverbial car of your body up on blocks to do some internal maintenance. Change the spark plugs, clean the filter. Remember that you’re a human car, and you have to maintain relationships with others.

If you do, you just might be rewarded with something special. New floor mats maybe, or a tree-shaped air freshener with a special scent hand-picked for you by the stars.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Twizzlers

Leo

Are you done luxuriating yet, Leo? No? The first couple of weeks of October are all soft pillows and hand-fed grapes for you. While the rest of the zodiac is out there in a gladiatorial battle with the stars, you’re in your cushy bed hitting snooze four times every morning. Lucky you.

That is, until you’re called to join the fight. Later in the month, it’ll be time to don one of those big hats with the feathered plumes sticking out. You’re tough enough for it, but there is one problem: your spear is a pool noodle from the dollar store. If you want to compete, you’ve got to sharpen your blade a little bit.

What does that mean for you? My tea leaves are saying something about your job. Gross. But it’s true: your 9-to-5 needs some extra attention before you can reach the next step. Whether that means a promotion or the security of another paycheck is up to you. The message from the stars is: quit slackin’ or get packin’.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Dots

Virgo

Here’s what I have for you this month, Virgo:

“On this brink of everything I know, I can gainAn eyeful of the lost Atlantic in the human soulAnd a breath that fills my lungs with the air between two stars.”

How beautiful, how poetic, how meaningful. I guess. I don’t know. It’s a quote from Boy Meets World, OK? Sometimes I remember it for reasons unknown, and then I go down the rabbit hole of Boy Meets World plotlines and lose hope of doing anything productive with the next hour.

How does it relate to you, you’re wondering? Yeah, I’m getting there. It’s simple: this month, Virgos everywhere are asked to think about memory. What are your memories, big and small, and what can you do with them? Imagination calls in the form of Mr. Feeny. He doesn’t care what you do, but you better do it.

Maybe you’ll write an epic poem about your treasured recollections. Maybe they’ll inspire you to look into a microscope and discover a cure for the common cold. Maybe you’ll discover an Earth-sized planet, find life there, and win 15 Nobel Prizes. Or maybe you’ll just use your memory to write a dumb internet horoscope. Dig through your memory and free the thing that wants to come out.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Milky Way

Libra

Do you know what it’s like to drive down a dirt road really, really fast? Oh, wait. Who am I asking? Of course you do, given the fact that you’ve been doing it for quite some time. You’re going so fast that you’ve been kicking up dust, Libra. Stop. It’s annoying, and it bothers the cows.

More important, you’re speeding for a pothole. The stars haven’t told me exactly what it represents, but I get the sense that it involves other people. This month, it’s possible that your go-go-go attitude will make people start saying “No, no, no.” If you’re not careful, people might wanna fightcha.

So chill. Isn’t there something in your sign about balance? Make it happen. You don’t have to stop, but you should obey the speed limit. Soon enough, the municipal powers that be will come in and regrade the road. Smooth sailing after that. You just have to get through October with your friendships intact.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Bit-O-Honey

Scorpio

I’m writing this while eating a zucchini. Did you know that zucchini, while descended from squash native to the Americas, was actually developed in Italy? For some reason, I was disappointed to learn this.

But what does this have to do with you, O deeply passionate and intensely mysterious Scorpio? I bring it up because this month’s transmission from the macrocosm is about uncomfortable truths. I’m slightly distressed and mildly wounded by my new zucchini knowledge, and I suspect you will feel that way, once the month is through.

Except, of course, your galactic gougemark probably won’t be the result of squash scholarship. It’ll be the result of the sugar-coated fibs you’ve been indulging in for the past few weeks. October is the time to lay off the proverbial sweet treats in favor of some bitter greens. The salad of truth has all of the answers for you this month, Scorpio. It’s time to take a nice big bite.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Necco Wafers

Sagittarius

Time for a little clean up, Sagittarius. And for once, I don’t mean your inner world. I’m talking about the little bits of paper and breadcrumbs that surround you. You’ve been too busy to sweep up lately. But now’s your chance. This October, take some time to do some scrubbing.

Early in the month, it’s also a good opportunity to clean up your calendar. Tidy up any double bookings, and see which events you can dip out of a little early. Save energy for the things that matter most. It’s OK to decline a plan if it means you can give your all to something more important.

I’m sorry to say it, but your inner world does come into play later in the month. When you’re done mopping the floors of your IRL home, pick up the cosmic feather duster and give your ears a little tickle. The universe wants you to decide what it is that you really want. Luckily, it’s already inside of you. Listen closely, and you might hear the answer.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Reese's Pieces

Capricorn

“In the jungle you must wait until the dice read five or eight.” That’s a quote from Jumanji. It’s also where you’re sitting as October opens. As in, you’re in a holding pattern: waiting for the opportune moment to make a move, work to improve, get in the groove.

This is your reprove. Reproof. Whatever. All I’m saying is that you can't blame a cursed board game for your hesitation. (Trust me, I've tried. But sadly I also live in reality.)

So what's got you stalled? That's a rhetorical question. I don't need to know. I just need you to fix it. Well, someone does. Probably. I don't know you. The point is, mend your life. Instead of waiting for the perfect roll to save you, whack your way through the jungle and make it happen.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Tootsie Roll

Aquarius

Weeeeeeeeee! That’s what you’re saying this month, Aquarius. You know why? Because the planets have aligned, the stars have sent out their Bat-Signals, and the black hole at the center of the galaxy has stopped sucking for a few rare minutes. All of that culminates in a lucky month for Aquarius natives.

October will be kind to those of you who can’t stop looking at the ground. It’s hard to pick your head up when you’ve been sad. This month, that might just work in your favor. What treasures await on the sidewalk? What good news can come out of the fog? If they’re out there, you’re likely to find them.

Whatever you find, treat it as the pick-me-up you’ve been waiting for. And don’t be afraid to get a little selfish with it. Not every gift from the galaxy is meant to be shared. Sometimes, it’s better to tuck it in your pocket and keep it as a reminder that sometimes, life isn’t so bad.

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Starburst

Pisces

Look, I don't need to know your stance on Where We Come From or Why We're Here. You get to figure that out all for yourself, preferably 5,000 miles due south from wherever I am.

Or you can just get the truth from me: astrology is totally and completely, 100% real. Also, I'm a certified cosmic authority. I swear. The stars want me to tell you this: way out there in the universe, stray bits of gas and dust are doing a little dance just for you.

It's an interpretive dance, and its message is really important. It's something that'll blow you away. Something that will change your life, and the very world upon which you spin, for minutes to come. The message is this: this October, your top-secret mission from the stars is... to crack a damn book.

But October is also a busy month for Pisces natives, so it might be hard to make time. Luckily, there are more efficient ways to smarten thyself. Find a way to squeeze in knowledge using as few words as possible. Skim the Wikipedia article. Watch Jeopardy! Talk to someone smart. Why read lot word when Brobdingnagian word do trick?

Your Inner Halloween Candy This Month: Smarties

It was like being inside of a toaster. I don't think I've been somewhere so hot that was also not remotely humid. As a person who is usually cold, I thought I might enjoy that. I didn't. I'm realizing that I belong where I am, safely within the confines of Dfa humid continental.

I'm interested in the desert landscape, but we didn't have time for much exploration. My main vantage point was from the airplane window. Interesting to see how abruptly the city cuts off into nothingness. It gave me the same semi-trapped feeling I've had every time I've visited an island.

The Strip took up most of my attention. Sweat-drenched men trying to slap flyers for strip clubs and wax museums into your hands. Feathered women waving people down for photos. Fake monks chasing you up the sidewalk with mass-produced beaded bracelets.

There is something captivating about people on the sidewalk begging tourists to spend money with them while the tourists rush off to gleefully spend money somewhere else.

To be honest, I thought there'd be more lights. I stopped on our way to drink too many whiskey Cokes to take this photo:

Yeah, there are lights. But are there enough lights? It looks different in the movies. Maybe I just didn't have the right vantage point. I had to hurry along because one of the feathered women kept inching closer while aggressively complimenting my shirt.

I don't mind a little bit of grime. I kinda like it. We went inside the Venetian for a minute to escape the heat, and I loved the tacky-ass cloud ceiling designed to make you forget time exists as you gamble away your life savings. Something something simulacrum.

Anyway, we weren't there to gamble (though we did a little: I lost $9 in a slot machine that I only stopped at because it was called Power Pig). We were there to satisfy my childhood fantasy of seeing the Backstreet Boys. I'm doing my little wish fulfillment tour before we all perish. Fuck it.

(I do wonder if I would have been so keen to see them if I'd had a chance as a kid. My parents paid for my sister to see Kid Rock at ten years old. Kid Rock who inspired fourth graders everywhere with "All the crackheads, the critics, the cynics, and all my heroes at the methadone clinic."

And yet I had to spend my own adult money to hear "Shape of My Heart." It becomes more clear every day that she was the favorite child.)

Whatever. It was fun. You can't tell me "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" isn't worth flying 1,200 miles to see live. You just can't.

The show was at the Sphere, and the visuals leaned hard into the Millennium vibes. I enjoyed having the goofy Y2K graphics blasted into my face. One thing I miss about the late 90s is how obsessed we all were with aliens.

And even the spudly songs had hilarious visuals. Here's what they showed during "Siberia":

We left the next day. It took nine times longer to get home than it did to get there. Not literally, but it felt that way. I can't tell you how much I hate flying. I can get over the loss of dignity and comfort. But I have a lot of anxiety around meeting my fiery end in a plane crash.

Suddenly everything becomes an omen. "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" played as we waited to board. We are going to die. A gate agent called me an angel for some reason as we were boarding. A prophecy? At least I'm going to heaven, I guess. But ultimately I would prefer not to magical-think my way into the afterlife every single time.

Fourteen years later, we landed. We dragged ourselves home, and I unpacked my Vegas souvenir: a flocked zebra figurine from a gumball machine. I wanted a bird, but the zebra is good too. My kind of gambling.

I was at my parents' party. They hosted everyone they knew in our tiny apartment living room. I spent the evening wandering out to pilfer chips and leftover birthday cupcakes into my bedroom, where I counted down to midnight with the Disney Channel.

I was excited for the new millennium. Having just turned ten years old, I felt that my future was right around the corner. And I knew for sure that it would be silver.

Earlier that year, I begged my mom to buy me silver sneakers (she did). I also owned a silver sequined shirt that I wore to school at least once a week. My dream car was a silver Volkswagen Beetle. For me, silver was the color of the new millennium.

It was also the color of my favorite pencil, which you can see illustrated below:

The pencil was not really a prized possession. But it was mine, and I liked it. Who could resist the pencil label, as if it could be mistaken for anything else? Or the little scattered Y2Ks? They amused me, like anything from that time period still does. I just think it's charming, maybe because that era felt so optimistic. We were at the dawn of the future, and the future was silver.

I had the pencil until some kid stole it in junior high. Then it passed out of all knowledge. For years I have searched: thrift stores, flea markets, garage sales. And for years I have left, pencillessly.

Now I turn to you. Please help me bring back the future in the form of this pencil. It's gotta be out there somewhere.

See Also:

• It's 10 PM. Do You Know Where Your Pencil Is?
• I Want to Believe
• The Call of the Pencil

We're nearing the end of our book season at work. This means repeatedly looking at the same books, over and over, at an exponentially faster rate each round. I hate this part of the year.

It's annoying to search your own work for mistakes for the millionth time. You hope you find some so that you can justify the effort. But you also hope you don't, for obvious reasons. If I find a mistake, it sucks because that means I missed it before. If I don't find a mistake, it sucks because what am I missing?

I also do a final pass of other people's books, which I like a lot more. Partly because I haven't seen them before.

And partly because I get to be the hyphen police. For whatever reason, hyphens are my favorite grammatical pointlessness to fixate on. I'm like, Actually, Merriam-Webster says this should be unhyphenated. Or Per CMS 7.96, this is only hyphenated when it's an adjectival phrase.

(Yeah, I'm annoying as hell. But if nothing else, at least my books will be 100% free and clear of incorrectly-deployed hyphens.)

Fall Stuff

We decorated for Halloween, a little earlier than planned. It's starting to feel like fall, so it felt good to reset for the season.

Sometimes it stresses me to realize how much stuff I have. It's really not that much (we have a small house), but I still feel compelled to get rid of as much as we can each time we move into a new season. We got rid of a good amount this week.

I'm pretty picky about adding to my Halloween collection. Earlier this year, my brother gifted me a vintage noisemaker he picked up from an antique store. That will probably be the only new addition.

Pinball Stuff

My new high score on the Pokémon pinball machine is 65 million. More important, I caught a Butterfree (and a bunch of other, uglier Pokémon).

I evaluate Pokémon exclusively on cuteness, and Butterfree is one of the cutest. I actually wrote a book about Pokémon once, so you can trust my Supreme and Absolute authority on this subject.

Football Stuff

Do I care about football? Ultimately, no. But I watch Vikings games because my husband and his parents enjoy it, and it is fun to have something to root for each week. We also take part in a weekly pick 'em bet, so I vaguely keep track of who else wins so that I may win five bucks every now and then.

This week I learned about scorigami, which is when a final football score has never happened before in NFL history. Because of the odd scoring system in the NFL, there are a lot of different scores that can happen.

This week, the Vikings-Packers game had a scorigami of 39–22. (The Bears-Panthers game was also a scorigami, with a final score of 59–37.) I like this way too much and will now be keeping track of future scorigamis.

Body Stuff

Run away if you don't like blood.

I finally got a paper guillotine for chopping up zines. You see where this is going.

I gave my finger a good slice an hour after opening it. I left the blade up, whooshed my hand around while collating paper, and my right index finger got a new stripe. I'm cringing as I type this.

It didn't really hurt, but it bled a lot. Mountain Dew Code Red all over the place. I almost immediately felt dizzy and nauseous. I had to lie down. A while later when I got up again to make dinner, I felt panicky and sweaty and had to lie down again.

Apparently this is a common reaction. I used to be incredibly squeamish about needles and blood as a kid, and I guess it hasn't fully gone away. It makes me feel better about not pursuing the healthcare career my family encouraged me into. Yeah, maybe I'd get paid more and have more stability. But cracking the whip on made-up hyphenation rules doesn't draw so much blood.

Thrift Stuff

I thrifted someone's stamp collection from the 70s and 80s. (I don't collect stamps. I'm going to use them to mail things.)

Did you know the USPS didn't fully roll out self-adhesive stamps until 1992? I guess everyone was out there licking stamps, sending their DNA nationwide, up until the early 90s. Insanity.

In researching this, I came across a lot of stamps that did not age well. This one is my favorite:

Imagine getting a letter from your passive-aggressive great aunt and that stamp is on it. Reminds me of when I used to be a little Neopets troll. I'd send a book called Learn Social Skills to people who annoyed me in the Newbie Chat. (Projection much? Lmfao.)

That stamp didn't come in the piles I bought. Most of mine commemorate animals, historic events, and space. There's also this one, which I love. Slap it on an envelope and send it to every manager you've ever had:

Stray Observations

• One fall thing I hate is ginkgo trees. Why did this city plant female ginkgos? Every fall they drop their fruit on the sidewalk. The fruit rot, and people trample them. The smell is out of this world.

  My old street had a female ginkgo on the corner. One Thanksgiving, I walked out to my car and stepped on some berries. The smell in my car was so bad that I had to turn around and change shoes. The snow can't fall fast enough to bury these shit berries.

• Here is the most deranged Michael Simon sweater I've spotted on eBay this month. I think you should buy it.
• This week, my sister informed me that our grandma took her to see a Patsy Cline impersonator as a young kid. I am still reeling over the delicious ridiculousness of this information.

  Of course, I did have to ask her a million questions about it. All she remembers is long curtains and comfy seats. And, inexplicably, a Patsy Cline impersonator.

  It reminds me of my favorite "tourist attraction" in Iowa: the replica of the once-tallest corn stalk in the world. I can't tell you how much I love this thing. The fallen glory of Iowa.

My mom never liked cooking, and this was never her favorite meal. She'd grown up eating it, raised poor by a single mom from Ohio's Appalachian foothills.

We were in Columbus, with takeout in every strip mall. When there was money, my mom and siblings would sooner order pizza, a food I detested at nine. To this day, I'd still choose beans and potatoes.

I share her disdain for cooking, though. It's lucky that my favorite foods don't need much of it: bread and butter, beans and potatoes. Endless toast. Buttered noodles with parmesan cheese when I need a pick-me-up.

Now I'm in Minnesota. This summer, I planted nine bean plants in my backyard. I picked enough beans for dinner this week, though I needed to buy potatoes at the store.

I sit on the front porch snapping beans in the sun. My cat moseys through the garden beds I desperately need to weed. Kids play in a front yard down the street.

Back inside, I chop baby reds in half and dump them into the big steel pot with the beans.

For grandma salad, I planted cucumbers and tomatoes. I have nine tomato plants too, all bursting through their cages. I snag a ripe one. The cucumber plants are at death's door, so I had to buy cucumbers too. It's fine. My mom never grew anything. Chop, dump, douse with oil and vinegar, refrigerate. Done.

When it's time to eat, I scoop out of the pot with my great-grandma's serving spoon. I mash butter into the potatoes with a fork. A small plate for bread and butter. Another small bowl for the grandma salad.

I set my place at the dining table, the curtains open to the street. My husband rummages downstairs. This isn't his favorite meal either.

I'm the same age now as my mom was when I was nine. My first bite is good. But it's not quite the same. My mom was always able to smash the potatoes just right.

Later, it's time for dessert. The other quintessential summer food of my childhood: pound cake with fresh-cut strawberries. I thought about making my own cake but settled for the same one my mom used to buy: Sara Lee, straight from the freezer aisle. I cut a rectangle and scoop strawberries over it. I go back to the porch and eat my cake in big bites while my cat rolls in the dirt.

Anyway, I recently spent a day decluttering and organizing. I boxed up a bunch of crafting supplies to donate and threw out the trash. But there are still a lot of things I don't know what to do with.

Case in point:

This is my childhood stuffed animal, Pinky. (Pinky the Pachyderm, actually. I was really into elephants as a young kid and evidently liked alliteration.) It's actually Pinky 2.0; the original Pinky was lost in a house fire in 1995, and the person who made her gave me a second one.

Anyway, Pinky is objectively adorable. I mean, look at that butterfly-print dress. But I am in my 30s, I don't have kids, and my nieces and nephews do not want her. (To be fair, I haven't asked. But these are iPad kids.)

So what do I do with her? What would you do? Let her continue collecting dust at the top of my bookshelf? I was afraid to take her down for photos in case a spider came crawling out from under her dress.

To be honest, I hoped writing this and sharing the photo would allow me to release Pinky into the thrift store bin. But now I'm convincing myself that I should keep her.

I am way too good at convincing myself to keep things. For example, I also have a small collection of My Little Pony toys. Several years ago, I spent weeks studying up on the history of the franchise for a work project. We needed pony photos, and it was cheaper to photograph toys on our own than to license images.

My coworker and I spent days deciding which ponies to buy on eBay. I can't tell you how fun it is to use your millionaire boss's credit card to buy plastic pony toys with wild abandon.

Along the way, I came across what I believe is the most shockingly named My Little Pony in existence: Daddy Apple Delight. It's part of a family of ponies—the Apple Delight family—that also includes Mommy and various Baby Brothers and Baby Sisters, depending on the country.

Sadly, we did not buy a Daddy Apple Delight or any members of the Apple Delight family. But we bought many other fun ponies. I ended up with a small collection, which I brought home when the office closed during COVID and have yet to return. (I'm not returning them.)

Some workplaces give you a sweatshirt or a mug. Mine gave me some 40-year-old My Little Ponies.

Probably, I should get rid of these as well. They sit on a shelf taking up space. But as I wrote this, I also remembered that sea ponies exist.

I love their little clamshell holders. Tempting.

All of this to say: cooking isn't my favorite activity (I guess that's why they tell me to bring the bread), but I love deviled eggs. Or as I like to call them, yellow pocket angel eggs.

I'd never made them before. A few months ago, divergentrays shared this old-school (and extremely ad-covered) deviled egg website.

And then skep and myrtletribe announced the 2026 virtual potluck. This year's potluck has a yellow theme. So obviously, it was a message from the heavens that I should make deviled eggs.

I decided to follow the Easy Classic Deviled Eggs recipe from the deviled egg site. The filling is just yolks, mayo, mustard, vinegar, salt, pepper. Top with paprika. I didn't actually measure anything. I mean, it's deviled eggs.

My friend recently gave me one of those hard-boiled egg cookers that cooks 7 eggs at once, so I ended up with 14 deviled eggs. (To be honest, I'm probably not going to keep the egg cooker. It works great and I love hard-boiled eggs, but my kitchen is too tiny for hyperspecific cooking gear. I can just make them on my stove.) They disappeared from my fridge very quickly.

Anyway, they were good! And way less tedious than I thought they'd be. I won't hear my sister complain about making them ever again.

The hosts provided (very adorable) badges for people who brought their dish early and met the yellow theme. I am accepting both for my effort:

I'm also awarding myself another badge. It's for people who brought eggs:

Thanks to skep and myrtletribe for hosting!

Every summer, my husband and I play mini golf at least once. The place we like (Lilli Putt, for anyone in the Twin Cities) is an old-school, hokey, somewhat grimy spot that has been around in one form or another since the 1960s. I love it there.

My usual strategy is to whack the ball as hard as I can and hope for the best. It's fun and satisfying, but it unfortunately results in me doing very, very badly at mini golf.

But this year, I decided to chill the hell out and lightly tap the ball instead of attacking it full-bore. And that is how I played my best mini golf game ever last Tuesday and won for the first time. Not to brag, but you can call me Nelly Korda from now on. I did kind of miss blindly whacking the ball though.

Work Stuff

One of my coworkers gleefully (I assume) left us behind. They also left behind the most premium desk in the office, in the coziest corner near the back door.

To be honest, I was pissed when I showed up on the first back-to-office day and discovered that my assigned desk was smack in the middle of everything. An open office is already hell on earth, but at least let me have one direction that I can look in without making accidental eye contact with someone as they slurp down soup.

Anyway, I moved to my former coworker's desk. Suddenly I have a wall at my back and a view of the sky. I tend to be tense and hypervigilant in the office, which invariably results in a headache, a neckache, and an amount of exhaustion that prevents me from even turning on music for my drive home. Maybe my new little hidey hole will help. The office is still a panopticon, but at least now it's a panopticon where I can look up and remember that clouds exist.

Thrifting Stuff

Frankly, I'm mad that they still haven't put the sweaters back out. Some of us wear them year-round.

The best thing I've found lately is this old children's desk set:

I asked my friend if I should buy them. She said no. I don't know why I asked; I was never not going to bring them home. They hold envelopes and stamps on my desk.

They also sort of match the giant pencil coat rack that holds my little toy camera collection. It's also thrifted:

(My husband found that one at Savers and immediately knew I'd want it. He was right. One time I saw a giant Ticonderoga pencil for cheap at an antique store in Duluth and didn't buy it. I still think about it. The other one that got away.)

Movie Stuff

I saw The Odyssey, or as I like to call it, The Long Nap. Sowwee. It felt disjointed to me, like every part of the story was rushed and glossed over. Odd for a movie that lasts 900 years.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day was also just fine. I was less entertained than I'd expect to be at a Spider-Man movie. It's possible I was watching under the haze of two or three beers for both of these movies.

At home, I finally watched Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie. It was a goofy silly delight. I liked it.

Garden Stuff

My zucchini died. The survival of the cucumbers is questionable. The peppers and tomatoes are thriving. I'm getting tired of watering. The weeds are encroaching. Is summer over yet?

Making Stuff

My husband asked me to teach him to knit. We're both making this dishcloth.

His is hilarious, as most first knitting projects are. Here's our progress so far:

The blue one is his, obviously.

I've also been making little pocket notebooks out of old wrapping paper mounted onto cardstock. I use this type of notebook for everything, so it's kind of fun to make my own. Plus, it's a way to use some of my wrapping paper other than making them into seamless-ish backgrounds.

I also made deviled eggs! They're for the virtual potluck that skep and myrtletribe are hosting, so I will wait to share how they turned out.

Stray Observations

• I have no evidence, but I believe dish soap has become less soapy. I don't have a dishwasher, so I do a lot of handwashing. Dish soap seems noticeably less sudsy, across multiple brands. Has anyone else experienced this?
• I've been reading a lot about pro wrestling lately. I don't follow at all, but I do think it's a delightful form of entertainment. I love that everyone is in on the joke: we can all collectively suspend disbelief and just enjoy the silliness and theatrics.

  I came across the phrase "Superkick in Stereo" and instantly wrote it down as something to ponder later. It's just a big kick done by two people at once. But the name is fantastic.

  There's a lot of fun lingo in fighting sports. When I did offline captioning, I worked on a bunch of boxing matches. I don't care about boxing whatsoever, but the commentators are great. My favorite fighting term is "chin." Not a rare one at all, but I like it. You gotta have good chin. No glass jaws for me.

• I work from home most of the time, so I have a small home office that doubles as my crafting room. I cleaned it during my staycation a couple weeks ago, and it was almost instantly destroyed again. I have no knack for keeping this room clean.

  In fact, as I type this, I am surrounded by craft supplies in various states of disarray. I'm in the middle of cleaning but decided now's the perfect time to sit down to write this.

  It's my desk that bothers me most. Every surface is piled with books from work, books I'm pretending I'm going to read anytime soon, bitsof paper, yarn, and who knows what else. I always feel sort of scattered, and you can see it in this room. I need to come up with a good system. Or something.

The machine is cool, but I confess that I don't really care for Sonic. I don't think I ever made it out of Green Hill Zone. He's just too fast for me. We do share a love of chili dogs, though.

Ditto with Pokémon. Kids at my school were into it in the 90s, obviously. I got mad at my friend for being into it. Like, how could you leave our playground RPG for this? We were orphan wizard soldiers, but now you want to pass mildly cute cartoon cards back and forth?

I understand the appeal a little more now. Bulbasaur is cute. Togekiss is so damn cute. By far, Turtwig is the cutest Pokémon.

But as a game, I'm not that into it. Walk, fight, walk, fight, walk.

As a pinball machine, it's pretty fun. I'm sure there are better ways to spend our household income, though. It costs $1 a game, which is expensive for someone whose games consistently last seconds. I spend less on a couple of Hamm's than I do on pinball.

Saturday was National Pinball Day, so games were half off. We went with a friend and played a bunch of three-player games. My opponents made it well into nine figures, but I was happy with my 35-million-point high score.

I also caught a Murkrow. It was the only Pokémon I caught, which means it is now my favorite Pokémon despite the fact that it is kinda ugly.

I want pinball machines with cuter themes. I demand them. Give me primary colors. Give me pastels. Care Bears, Barbie, Candy Land.

Or give me an elaborate SpongeBob machine, complete with animatronics, Krabby Patties, and wacky seafaring music.

Or, like, maybe just horses? I think that'd be fun. Just horses. My dream is that the pinball champs would steer clear. I mean, an unlicensed, no-fanfare, horse-themed machine? Where's the glory? I see myself as the princess of the plastic pasture, basking in the glow of my high-score initials. It might be my only chance at being a pinball wizard.

Soon enough, the fear of being confronted becomes too much, and Kara hops out of the trash. She swipes at the raspberry jam on her pant leg as I notice a streak of slime across my shirt.

But there’s no time to deal with garbage juice now. Down the block, a set of headlights is turning onto the street.

Maybe they’re headed for the apartment complex across the way. Or maybe it’s a cop ready to bust us. We aren’t about to find out. We scoop up armfuls of flowers and sprint across the street, tripping over ourselves through near-hysterical laughter.

Back at my place, we divide the cellophane-wrapped bundles between us. Flowers weren’t what we’d hoped to find. But they weren’t in either of our budgets, so we leapt at the opportunity to fill our apartments with the rare treat.

It's not that we needed to dive. We had enough to eat. It's that this was a chance to get more than we needed.

Our usual scores were fruit. Most nights, we found more berries than we could eat. There were also onions, watermelons, boxes of cereal. Crackers. Coca-Cola. Laundry detergent. Even a car-mounted bike rack that we sold for $50 on Craigslist, gleefully splitting the money when we returned flat broke from a road trip to Yellowstone that we definitely could not afford.

Each night after making our selections, we’d squeeze into my tiny kitchen for scrubbing, chopping, and dividing our haul between us. She would inspect for mold. I’d divide the raspberries into freezer bags. How many smoothies could we make with this?

In a world where a single pint of raspberries cost $6 and I brought home $900 a month, it felt like a minor lottery win.

It’s been over a decade since I last set foot in a dumpster. My budget stretches to both fruit and flowers now. Kara’s does too. But we still look. No good dumpsters lately.

She's basically the complete opposite of me when I was 12. I punctuated the time I spent on Neopets with walks through the cemetery and burnt CDs full of emo songs I downloaded from Kazaa. I definitely didn't put three different products on my face every morning and night. Washing my hair was the best I could manage.

But she's all about boy bands and makeup and fashion. It was fun to reenter that world with her for a while. I could do without the friendship drama, though.

One thing we watched did make me want to launch myself into space. It was an episode of the Netflix show Jordan and Salish Matter.

Holy shit. There was so much shouting. It was the loudest, most chaotic, most asinine thing I've seen in a while. And I've seen the latest Jackass movie. At least that was somewhat entertaining.

After I dropped her off at home on Sunday, I crashed for three hours and then slothed my way through the end of the weekend. I have this week off from work for my annual summertime staycation, so I didn't feel too bad about it.

I've earmarked 40 hours of PTO for this for the past several years. It's something I really look forward to. Travel is great and everything, but have you ever stayed home?

Most years, I spend a couple of days at home and a few days out and about. It's always a nice time, but I always regret not doing more at home. Like, I spend my days at work fantasizing about my own projects. But then I have a staycation and spend half of it not actually at home, not doing said projects.

So this year I'm pretty much just staying home. I'd made plans with other people for some of my days off, but I canceled most of them. It's sort of a bummer. Like, I want to have friends. My friends are fun. I know I should do my best to keep those connections.

But also, I need to be alone. My social energy depletes quickly between going to work and being in a relationship. I'm out of gas almost every day. Being alone, doing my little creative projects, is what helps me recharge.

I haven't been this inattentive since the fourth grade concert where I got in trouble for imitating a teacher playing the harp. At work, I've checked all the way out and am now waiting down the street for an Uber XL with my suitcase full of fucks.

And at home, I can feel myself slipping into ghost mode. My husband has been picking up my slack. I'm not as present as I want to be. This week, I want to return to my corporeal form. And probably do a couple of household chores that have been put off. That's my penance for taking a whole week off to be at home.

Truly, how do people do it all? I wish I had the energy. Most of the time, the thing that gets kicked off the hamster wheel is the thing I want most.

I just want to sit in a sunny room and work on my knitting project. Then I want to bake a cake. Then I want to get out all of my painting supplies and make a mess. Then I want to grab a book, go outside, and not feel like I'm wasting my entire day by reading for an hour, because there's another free day tomorrow, and another after that, and another and another.

I'm just tired of worrying about how long things take. I don't want time to be a problem anymore.

Because on the one hand, it's true. I was born a few days before the 1990s began. I am a bit older than the average Neocities user, assuming the average Neocities user is in their early 20s or so.

And on the other hand, it's funny when younger people act like 30 is ancient. I used to think 30 was an impossible age too; when I was a teen, I couldn't imagine living that long.

I'm still here, though. It's good to be in your 30s. Every day that passes is another day removed from bad things that happened in your past. I say, as if I’m a wrinkled old sage and not the mid-30s child that I actually am.

Really, I just find it funny. Like I've successfully tricked you into believing I'm a functioning adult and not the perpetually 17-year-old person I still feel like.

Actually, I was digging through my ancient teenage email account a few days ago. I never deleted anything, so I found a message I sent to myself the night before my 18th birthday.

In it, I talk about my social experiences in high school and then lightly flagellate myself about the bare-bones effort I gave academically.

I also give myself generic commencement-speech advice about being true to myself. Boring, but something I still agree with. I wouldn't say it in that way now, though. I'd just do it, and make my point to others through osmosis.

Mostly, I was surprised by how much the writing voice still sounds like me 19 years later. I'm not sure what that says about the progression of my writing skills.

I'm comforted by the fact that the genuinely insane writing style of my earlier teenage years is gone everywhere except in my old email account. Here's an example of what I mean:

Just kidding. When I tell you it was insane, I mean I can barely bring myself to read it, let alone share it publicly.

There was something about writing my weird thoughts for a small audience that made all of my goofiest shit come out. One thread with an old friend includes a Wolf Parade lyric as the subject line. But then as days pass it slowly morphs, one word at a time, into complete nonsense. Like this:

Psych! It's not gonna happen.

I guess that's why I have no problem writing whatever comes to mind here. Most weeks I try to limit myself to one blog post, but I have a lot waiting in the wings. I'm chatty as hell. Teenage me let it rip; adult me has a slightly less malfunctioning filter.

Anyway, I didn't sign in to that email to punish myself with my teenage writing style. That was just the toll I had to pay to find what I was really looking for: the first thing I ever bought on iTunes.

For some reason, it had occurred to me that I could easily find this information via the dozens of iTunes receipts I’d saved in my inbox. So I did.

On February 26, 2005, I paid $9.99 for Neutral Milk Hotel's In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. I had recently gotten an iPod Mini and was obsessed with loading it with music that would make me cool.

Frankly, it worked. I am cool, and I owe it all to Pitchfork.

As we walked, we noticed that the streets were absolutely piled with trash. As a person who sat through more than a few anti-litterbug school assemblies as a child, I was shocked and appalled.

After choking down our dry burgers (they were severely lacking in ketchup), we started walking back to the Airbnb. And that's when we saw it. Just ahead, a garbage truck was headed in the same direction. As it crept down the street, two or three men followed behind, each holding a big snow shovel. They shoveled trash from the street into the back of the garbage truck. In the process, at least half of every shovelful fell back to the ground. They just kept going.

Don't get me wrong, we saw a lot of interesting stuff on that trip. Somewhere on the way to Stonehenge, our bus passed a really neat chalk horse. But the thing I remember most is all that trash.

Well, maybe that isn't entirely true. The chalk horse comes up a lot. Mostly because I bring it up. I acknowledge that I might be the only person in the history of that bus who thought it was cool. My Neopets BFF was asleep when we passed it.

Worse, she still doesn't seem to care that she missed it. I searched our messages for "chalk horse" and found this exchange from four years ago:

me: let's go back to England
me: maybe we can see some cool chalk horses you can sleep through again
her: what did I sleep through?

Then I brought it up again a few weeks ago:

me: I'm gonna write a blog post about the trash we saw in England
me: and the time you fell asleep as we drove past the chalk horse
her: lmfao what chalk horse

OK fine, the chalk horse was not the only Culturally Important thing we saw. We sweat our tits off hoofing it along the cliffs in Dover. Big Ben was under scaffolding. We got scolded at the Roman Baths. We bought NSYNC shirts at Primark and stood on our bed taking selfies as Love Island played in the background.

But still. All that trash.

Yarn: KnitPicks CotLin in a million different colors

Pattern: Typical Tank by Tiffany Liew

Finished: June 24, 2026

Notes: This is a knockoff of a tank top by Rachel Antonoff that I liked. (It's here, if you're curious.) The top is on sale for $179, down from $248. In other words, a price I am never going to pay for a damn tank top. So I just made my own.

It's not perfect, but luckily I'm not a perfectionist. There are some minor mistakes in the ribbing. The hem is wonky. The embroidery sucked to do. The fringe sucked even more.

The fit of the Typical Tank is also not my favorite. The arm holes go a little low for my liking, so know that if you decide to make this. Maybe you'll be able to adjust it.

Unfortunately, I'm too much of a knitting dumdum to make pattern alternations on the fly. (I only chose this because it was the only pattern I was able to find that uses DK yarn and had the general shape I was looking for.)

Overall, I'm happy with how this turned out. It'll definitely get a few wears from me this summer. ]]> https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/big-wind https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/big-wind Sun June 21 2026 00:00:00 GMT The thing about southwestern Minnesota is that it's mostly treeless prairie. Treeless prairie gets windy. On our second night, after a nice day of hiking among quartzite cliffs, a storm blew in.

By "blew in," I mean it surged without warning, bringing billion-mile-an-hour winds that ripped the tent stakes out of the ground. The tent rolled down the road like a tumbleweed with our shit still inside.

It's just a story we tell now, but Jesus Christ. Have you ever had to lasso a loose tent containing a queen-size air mattress?

When we finally caught it (with help from some other campers), it was too late. The tent was broken, and we left in shame that same night.

(Getting home was a whole other ordeal: we popped a tire on I-90 and had to drive 200 miles home on a donut. I still have not replaced the hubcap that flew off in the process; I like to think it's still out there somewhere in the weeds. On the positive side, my friend is now married to the person whose tent we destroyed.)

Anyway, I bring this up because I had a near repeat of this experience recently. Camping in Wisconsin, my husband and I had a nice spot overlooking the Wisconsin River.

Everything was fine at first. Burgers, cribbage, campfire.

But then out of nowhere, the wind began to blow. One minute I'm poking the fire with a stick. The next, I have a death grip on the tent.

The wind had popped two stakes out of the ground and heaved the tent backward. It bent dangerously close to the fire, which with the help of the wind had doubled in size. We were left with no choice but to hold the twisting tent poles against the squall.

The tent poles strained against the force, and I thought for sure we had another broken tent situation on our hands. Or worse, a flaming broken tent situation.

But eventually the wind died down enough that we were able to collapse the tent and douse the fire. Nothing broken, nothing burned. Then ten minutes later it was calm again.

The strangest part was that no one else was around when this happened. It was a large, busy campground with lots of foot traffic.

But during the wind, there was no sign of anyone else. No shouts. No car doors slamming. Not even a paper plate blowing off of a picnic table. We struggled alone, which was fine. But we also had no one to commiserate with.

What if the big wind happened only to us? ]]> https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/do-you-know-pencil https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/do-you-know-pencil Tue June 16 2026 00:00:00 GMT Was it kidnapped? Did it run away from home? I cannot answer these questions. All I know is that one day I was jotting notes in 8th grade English. The next, a kid named Jerry had my pencil in his grip.

Efforts to retrieve the pencil were unsuccessful. The case has since gone cold.

I write this as a reminder to you. Keep track of your pencil. Never take it for granted. If you do, you may suffer the agony of a decades-long exercise in heartbroken futility.

I also write it to keep hope alive. While my pencil is now legally presumed dead, I still believe it's out there somewhere.

That's where you come in. The pencil could be anywhere: thrift store bags, garage sales, the dusty far corners of elementary school classrooms. Will you join the search for it?

Here's what we know:

• The pencil originated in Columbus, Ohio, around the year 1999. Its clones may be at large in the area.
• The pencil went missing in East Central Minnesota around the year 2002. Could its discarded stub haunt the soybean fields?
• The pencil looks something like this:
  

If you have information related to my pencil's disappearance, I want to hear about it. Tips can be submitted via email, through my guestbook, or on my Neocities profile.

See Also
The Call of the Pencil
I Want to Believe ]]> https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/waxing-hubert https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/waxing-hubert Sun June 14 2026 00:00:00 GMT

I insist that everyone stop what they're doing and admire some summer-appropriate knits that will help you stay cool while looking insane this summer:

Beach Vest

Mother of God. There's so much to see. This tender family memory:

These happy couples:

What do you think this person is doing?

Carnival Cardigan

Listen, I know this is insane. But look at it. The theme is glorious. The details are incredible. I gasped when I saw it. A new holy grail.

Piñata Cardigan

I'm mad at how much I like this. The texture is so fun. But I'd probably never wear it, given the fact that it practically invites children to come up and whack you with a stick.

It's probably a sensory nightmare too. I'm unsure of the fiber content, but I'm guessing it's a blend of 55% Heinous and 45% Vile.

Cat Tank Top

I'm not in love with the theme of this one, but I kinda like the shape. I really want to see it on a person. You should buy it and show me.

I also like that some of the details look like stitch markers. Would Michael do something so incredible, so brave, so ridiculous? I think he would.

Rabbit Cardigan

Holy shit. I have no words. This one also comes in yellow, in case it was the color that was stopping you from picking it up.

Book Vest

It's always seemed strange to me that there are not many book-themed Michael Simon designs. This vest is fun, though (for once) I'd love to see it in less vibrant colors.

Yellow Grid Cardigan

I genuinely think this is cute. It looks like something Isabelle from Animal Crossing might wear. Would add to cart.

Backpack Vest

Looks like a regular button-up vest, right? But then you flip it over...

A whole backpack knit onto the back! Even better, it's functional. What would you put in your built-in sweater backpack?

I'm not gonna lie about it. I desperately want this thing.

Beaded Fruit Cardigan

This is just delightful. You cannot go wrong with beaded fruit. To be honest, I might pick it up.

Phone Vest

If Michael Simon were still making clothes today, do you think he'd make an iPhone vest?

I really wanted to get a landline for our house, by the way. Why? Because it's fun. But it's also surprisingly expensive for something so pointless. This vest would be more of a conversation starter. Buy it.

Hula Hoop Cardigan

This is so jolly. No notes.

Floral "Denim" Vest

I've come across a few Michael Simon "denim" vests. They're usually insane. I'm intrigued.

This is by far the best one. I think it's kinda cute.

Tennis Vest

What fun! If I played tennis, I would definitely wear this.

Sunflower Cardigan

Nothing says summer like sunflowers. If green's not your thing, there's also a black design:

Judgmental Nutcracker Vest

This one is Christmas-themed, but technically you could wear it as a tank top. Mostly I just wanted to share this asshole nutcracker peeking around the corner to judge you and everyone you know. ]]> https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/how-far-ill-mow https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/how-far-ill-mow Sun June 07 2026 00:00:00 GMT My favorite part of June is when my peonies finally bloom:

I can't take credit for them; they came with the house, and I do nothing to maintain them.

The unfortunate thing about peonies is that they last about five minutes, and then you just have a regular leafy green bush.

Our first spring here, I tried making a peony bouquet for inside. It was beautiful, but for me the smell is so unbearably strong that I can't even walk by without holding my breath. They stay outside now. Let the ants have them.

This June, that little doggy is your guiding star. It’s telling you to sniff out intellectual or mind-expanding pursuits. Take to the open road, read something, learn something, smoke something. Answer the call of the bow-wow beatnik. Howl.

Try to take it slow, though. Aries are natural trailblazers, but maybe you want to play follow-the-leader for once. Make good decisions this month, please.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: The Barking Ghost

Taurus

The clouds will break, but your vantage point will have an obstructed view. Decision-making could prove difficult. Don’t be too hasty. Peek around the corner before you charge in full horn. Get a plan. And don’t be afraid to get some advice from your own personal peanut gallery.

Later in June, you may encounter people who challenge you in an exciting way. Even Taurus natives who turn away from conflict are likely to be drawn in. Blunt and stubborn meets stubborn and blunt. Don’t put your hoof in your mouth.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: My Best Friend Is Invisible

Gemini

This month, Gemini natives can relate. You’ve got things on your mind, but you've refused to step into the phonebox without a fight. Well, the fight is now. Unfortunately, you've put it off so long that conflicts may be bigger on the inside than they first appear. A situation you thought was in the past may burn bright one last time. Could that mean you weren’t ready to let go?

Rather than a knock-down-drag-out, this month’s clash may be an internal affair. Rumination is ruination, Gemini. Pour out your brain soup and get inside the phonebox.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: The Haunted Mask

Cancer

Don’t let it go to your head, OK? Remember your humility when the ice cream truck comes by. Don’t forget your old faves. Who is the ice cream sandwich of your eye? Who’s your favorite wonky-eyed SpongeBob? Turn away from the mirror and give them some attention.

Late June brings a chance to get hands-on. Snap a photo. Carve a spoon. Paint a koi fish in the style of Cheng-Khee Chee. Just do something novel. Or write a novel. Hey, it might be fun.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: It Came From Beneath the Sink!

Leo

/\/\(. _ .)/\/\

You start this month as that spider. Not in my shower, obviously. More like watching the TV from the outside of the shop window. You can see the scene, but it’s hard to hear what anyone is saying. You definitely can’t join in.

People might be wondering what happened to the gregarious Leo who can’t help but charm the world. You might be too. But remember that it’s OK to have some downtime. Climb down from the shower wall and do your inner work already. By mid-June, you’ll be back to your old ways.

I also see indulgence in your future. A delicious meal, a luxury item, or a spa day may be just what you need in late June. If you were a barnyard spider, you’d skip past “Humble” and weave “Buffet.”Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: The Cuckoo Clock of Doom

Virgo

So what’s got you running red lights? It could be the beam from the heavens that is lighting up your desire to step out and circulate. Your tried-and-true crowd will always be there for you. Why not mix it up with a few new faces?

Maybe you want your own new face too. I don’t mean a full nip/tuck, although now’s the time to get the ball rolling if it’s on your to-do list. But a gentler approach is what I see for you: an updated hairstyle, a polished outfit, or a new scent. Practical Virgos will likely spring for a haircut and leave the full-body reconstruction for the next fiscal year.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: How I Got My Shrunken Head

Libra

This month, you’re called to be similarly generous. You don’t have to go out there and draw your acquaintances as anime. But maybe you’ll cook someone a special meal. Maybe you’ll lend a listening ear. Or maybe you’ll just be more patient with the people blocking the aisles at the grocery store.

But watch out. Your usual patience could be worn thin by the middle of the month. Instead of closing up shop, try to have a conversation. Being fair means being fair to yourself too.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: Welcome to the Wicked Wax Museum

Scorpio

By mid-June, you’ll be ready to reach across the chainlink. Steamy new relationships could form for unpaired Scorps. But this could also just mean deepening bonds with friends or others close to you. No need to make it a dramatic affair. That “Beware of Dog” sign should not refer to you.

Late June brings energy into your career department. A new job, a new project at work, or a once-in-a-lifetime windfall could come your way. But probably not the last one. You gotta climb more fences for that.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: Say Cheese and Die!

Sagittarius

So here’s the deal: the universe wants you to focus on your health this month. You’re being called to eat well, exercise in a way that works for you, and make that medical appointment you’ve been putting off. Don’t get mad at me. You’re the one who put it off.

By the end of the month, “C’mon Get Healthy” moves to “C’mon Get Clever” as your focus shifts to creativity. You have the opportunity now to innovate. Pick a medium, and get to making. You never know, your creation could cause a stir. What if all this world needs is for you to write a kid-friendly sitcom about a brand-new bird-named family?Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: Secret Agent Grandma

Capricorn

By the solstice, you’ll be ready to add some more appropriate adornments. Ketchup and mustard may come in the form of pool days and picnics. A scoopful of chili is a pile of beach reads. Be productive, but make it fun.

At the end of the month, it’s time to get grilled. Difficult questions may come up in your close relationships. Be frank.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: Escape from the Carnival of Horrors

Aquarius

You know what will also feel good? Having a serious conversation with that person who pissed you off. Or even better: the person you pissed off. Your house is in order, so why not get your relationships in order too? This June is the perfect time to get it all done and dusted.

Your energy may fade by the end of the month. But that doesn’t mean you’re done being introspective. Take a notebook from that tidy pile you made in early June, and write down your reflections.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: Lost in Stinkeye Swamp

Pisces

But this month, you’re happy to be at home. Spend some time with your housemates in early June, whether that’s your family, roommate, or pet. Chances are, they’ll love the attention. You could end up having some game-changing conversations. Now’s the time to suss out what your cat really thinks.

Later in the month, a ray of creative energy beams down from Mr. Roddenberry. Channel this into working on a silly passion project. Don’t worry about money or engagement. Capitalism can wait. Right now, make something to put on your own Golden Record.Your Inner Goosebumps Book in June: I Live in Your Basement! ]]> https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/demons-souls https://oopsiedoodle.com/posts/2026/demons-souls Fri May 29 2026 00:00:00 GMT

The Dude Problem

Given Furbys' origins on a cloud-island in the sky³, it is unlikely that dee-doh carries the American historical meaning of "dude." More likely, dee-doh is an informal slang term whose meaning more closely resembles the modern definition of "dude."

At the time of the original Furbish research in the late 1990s, "dude" had spread through the English-speaking world after steady growth in previous decades⁴. While the term was not entirely gender-neutral, its use had become more generalized as a greeting for a person or group of any gender, as a filler-word exclamation, or as a discourse marker that signals a casual, laid-back relationship between the speaker and their audience.

Based on this historic context, it is believed that dee-doh has roughly the same function, and that its translation to "dude" by the original researchers was as much a commercial decision to promote the newly arrived Furbys as it was a genuine attempt to accurately translate the word. It would not be the first time linguistic nuance has been lost to corporate interests.

This reading is supported by the fact that, as discussed above, gendered words are seemingly rare in the Furbish language. This essay therefore concludes that dee-doh is not a gendered term but a casual word for "friend" with no gender connotations.

This conclusion is further underscored by what we know about Furbys' life on their cloud-island homeland, A-loh May-lah⁵, where their survival depended upon bonding with creatures called Eons⁶. In a society where such close relations are paramount to survival, it follows that multiple terms for "friend" would proliferate. As such, dee-doh can be redefined as an informal term for "friend," a counterpart to the previously recorded term, noo-lah.

The Avuncular Question

Of course, an uncle is the brother of one's parent. Little research has been done on Furbish family systems, but given the large population of Furbys on Earth, it is reasonable to speculate that typical Furby families are large, with the potential for many siblings, and thus many aunts and uncles in subsequent generations.

As such, it is reasonable to conclude that oo-kah should be taken at face value, as a term for the male sibling of one's parent. However, this presents an obvious problem: where are the aunts?

Likewise, where are the other words for family relationships? Later Furbish research has proposed mama as a term for "mommy." However, it is the opinion of this researcher that this is simply an English loanword that some in the Furbish diaspora began using. After all, Furbys have been on Earth for nearly 30 years; it is reasonable to expect that some assimilation has occurred.

Thus, oo-kah remains the only known Furbish word for a family member. If we take the translation of uncle at face value, we are forced to consider the possibility that Furbys have an avuncular society; that is, a society with special emphasis on uncle relationships.

This is certainly a logical conclusion given the evidence. It also plays into what we know of Furbish culture: many Furbish terms are playful and congenial, much like the American stereotype of the fun uncle. However, there is one caveat: Furbys themselves are nonbinary, according to the 1999 Furby Trainer's Guide⁷. This is not an isolated claim. A commercial for Furby Babies⁸ confirms it when it introduces the birth of a Furby as follows: "Is it a girl? Is it a boy? No. Congratulations, it's a Furby baby."

Consequently, there is no reason for Furbish to contain gendered terms for family members. It must therefore be concluded that oo-kah refers neither to uncles nor to any other male-identifying person, relative or otherwise.

Some have speculated that oo-kah could refer to "mercy," a secondary meaning of uncle in English. Given the historic context at the time of translation, this is a plausible suggestion. In the late 1990s, "Say uncle" was a common expression uttered by people—particularly male relatives of the uncle variety—when playfully tormenting children.

However, this connotation is out of step with what we know about Furbish society. The known Furbish lexicon includes no words that directly connote violence, domination, or bullying.

This suggests a cultural norm of kindness and cooperation, a fact which is again supported by Furbys' harmonious interspecies relationships with both Eons and humans.

With other potential meanings exhausted, it becomes more plausible that oo-kah is a non-gendered term for a relative. When considered within the historic context of the original researchers, more nuance emerges. Influenced by the patriarchal gender assumptions of the United States in the late 1990s, they encountered a term meaning "older, respected relative" or "fun, congenial relative" and assigned it to the nearest male-coded family term: uncle.

As with dee-doh, it becomes clear that oo-kah is not a gendered term at all. Hasbro yet again filtered Furbish research through the gender assumptions of English-speaking culture.

Oo-kah must therefore be redefined as a term that refers to a beloved older family member, one essential to Furbish family life. Any other interpretation would be a deviation from what is known about Furbish culture and society.

References