First Comes Pinball, Then Comes The Fuckening

One of my new favorite things to do is go to a barcade. It’s a place for grownups, where distinguished ladies and gentlemen meet up to…whoop each others’ asses at arcade games, while getting nice and toasty on beer (ahem: cider for me, please) and sharing some sloppy-ass nachos (not to be confused with sloppy ass-nachos).

Louisiana girl here had never heard of barcades before. (Do y’all call ’em barcades? Cuz that’s just me doing my portmanteau thing. But I bet I’m not the first on this one.) One of my date people person dudes took me to one, and I’ve been hooked ever since. You wanna see The Stephanie in full form – giggling, talking smack, cursing and laughing and choking on cider, raising fists into the air – in either victory or defeat (people are SUCH cheaters, I swear) – take her to a barcade.

I’ve only been twice now, but I will be going back. With sacks of quarters (hehe she said sacks), a 15-year-old mentality and a winning streak itching to be released. Hashtag suckmytopscorebitches.

The second time I went was just a couple of weeks back, and it kickstarted a wave of drama that I semi-anticipated but am still supremely disappointed by. People are such brainless dickwhistles. It would be fun to watch them running around, scratching their heads (you know, the ones between their legs) and launching all sorts of wild accusations…if I weren’t one half of the target.

A former coworker (from Louisiana – formerly known as P. Whipped right here on Stephellaneland) and semi-friend was passing through Portland. He was on an epic Road Trip slash Personal Quest slash Work Assignment, and he messaged me on his last night in Portland – letting me know he was in town, asking if I’d be interested in meeting up for drinks. I’m like, dude. Dude, Yeah! Where’s the fire! I told him about the barcade, and he was down. Because DUH BARCADE.

We met there, and I commenced to smashing him on pinball and old-school arcade games. He cheated a few times and “won.” We had drinks and laughs and traded stories about the shitty stuff that lead us each to begin our Personal Quests. He took a selfie of us – aka The Selfie Heard Round the World. And then? You guessed it. He posted in on Facebook. Made it a public post so the whole world can see it.

So. Fucking. What.



Because apparently, nowadays, first comes pinball, then comes marriage the fuckening. Back in Douchetown, Louisiana, I’m becoming known as the girl who banged Anklebiter’s fiance relationship detritus that she threw away for the dude she was (allegedly) cheating with. What. On Earth. Gave them that idea?

Why, the smiling selfie taken in a barcade on “Henry’s” last night in Portland, of course! Nevermind the fact that we were at the same shindig maybe three times when I still lived in Douchetown. Nevermind the fact that I didn’t think the dude even knew my name before that night. NEVERFUCKINGMIND the fact that PINBALL shouldn’t imply that I was interested in playing with HISBALLS.

For fucks sake, what is wrong with people? I had two ciders. He had about five crown & cokes. We played arcade games for about 2 hours, then chatted for about an hour. He gave me a hug just before I walked back to my car and drove back to my apartment, and he took an über back to his hotel. He left the entire state the next morning. And guess what? I don’t owe that explanation to anyone.

But nooooo. I’m a homewrecker (in a situation where there is no home to wreck). A PINBALL PLAYING WHOREMOUTH. I need a Scarlet P. I’ll sew it onto my homewrecker cape, right above my high score. And a new selfie of me flipping off Senorita Anklebiter and her minions.

The Pinball Prostitute

*Thanks to Tikeetha for reminding me of this gem. I used to go around singing it, but I’d forgotten about it somewhere along the way. Highly appropriate for today!


News Flash: Time Marches On (aka The Year Ends. Every. Fucking. Year.)

File this bitch under pet peeves or something because damn, this gets under my skin. And I think it’s the kind of thing that is greatly exaggerated and exacerbated by working in an office environment. (P.S. The word is exacerbated. I didn’t say masturbated. I would never say masturbated. Especially not on my blog. I mean who talks about masturbation on their blogs? Perverts, that’s who. So I definitely did not say masturbated. But I digress.)

Gather round, Peoplleaneous, and watch as the the comedy horror unfolds.


All the World’s a Clock, and All the Office Workers Stand by in Shock: A Prophetic Glimpse into 2016

Brought to you by: Stephellaneous
Sponsored by: Miller Father Time

(Names changed to protect the innocent idiots.)

Act One: Shock and Awe

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: Ohmygosh, y’all! Can you BELIEVE it’s January?
Jim in the Kitchen with Kim: I know, right? How did we get here?
Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: I wish I could tell ya! I just can’t believe it’s a whole ‘nother year!

Tim Passing through the Kitchen with Kim and Jim: I don’t think I’ll ever get used to writing 2016, instead of 2015. *grumbles*

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea and Jim and Tim: OH-HIIIII Stephanie! We were just saying how we can’t BELIEVE it’s January! Can you BELIEVE?
Stephanie in the Kitchen with Side-Eye: WHAT?!?! No way, man! Seems like this happened last year, too!!

*Uncomfortable laughter and mild confusion*

Stephanie, Glutton for Punishment that she is, Keeps Going: I mean, seriously! I’ve already been through 35 Januaries! I don’t understand how this keeps happening!

*Like cockroaches, the idiots scatter.*

Stephanie calls after them: Wait! We haven’t even discussed the fact that it’s Monday! Again! What is the deal with Mondays?

Act Two: The Lemmings Accept Defeat

Yvonne in the john: *sighs*
Gloria, the Perpetual Grump: What’s your problem?
Yvonne: It’s already April. Can you BELIEVE it’s already April?
Grumpy Gloria: Yeah, I can believe it. But you think you’ve got it bad? I hate Aprils. It’s just my luck it’s April.
Yvonne: Hm, now that you mention it, Aprils are kinda gloomy with all that rain.
Grumpy Gloria: Story of my life. As if I wasn’t suffering enough.

April Showers

Act Three: Mass Confusion and Fear

Tony the Brony: Son of a…biscuit!
Betsy the Bewildered: Huh? What happened? What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? Is it raining? Is there any fresh coffee?
Tony the Brony, looking like a deer in headlights: No, wife just texted. Kids get outta school in two weeks.
Betsy the Bewildered: Oh. I don’t understand. Can’t you just put them in summer school or something? Also, you have kids??
Tony the Brony: I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I don’t understand how the school year flies by so fast like it does every fucking year in the history of ever!

Stephanie pours fuel on the fire: Yeah, and it’s gonna be sooooo hot. You know. Because summer. And they’ll want to be inside. All the time.
Tony the Brony: They’re going to eat me alive! I can’t handle this! Hashtag OMG! Hashtag FML! Hashtag I can’t even!
Stephanie the Asshole: Well, there’s always crack.
Tony the Brony: *blinks*
Stephanie: Get them hooked on crack. That way they’ll rob you once instead of slowly milking you for the rest of your life. Then they’ll move on to the street corner and live outside. Problem solved. You won’t even have to feed them.

Tony the Brony: *lays his head down on the desk and whispers* You’re evil.
Betsy the Bewildered: I don’t know what crack is, but that didn’t sound very nice.

I realize this isn’t an exact fit for the scenario presented, but it’s close enough. Besides, Tim doesn’t give a fuck.

Act Four: The Anticipation is Killing Them (but not fast enough)

Tony the Brony returns: Son of a…biscuit!
Betsy the Bewildered: Huh? What happened? What’s wrong? Are you mad at me? Is it raining? Is there any fresh coffee?
Tony the Brony, looking like a deer in headlights: No, wife just texted. Kids go back to school in two weeks.
Betsy the Bewildered: Oh. I don’t understand. Can’t you just home-school them or something? Also, you have kids??
Tony the Brony: I don’t know what I’m gonna do! I don’t understand how the summer flies by so fast like it does every fucking year in the history of ever! I can’t afford this!

Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: I’m so excited! And I just can’t fight it!
Tony the Brony: What’s up?
Kim in the Kitchen with Tea: The kids go back to school in two weeks! I won’t have to deal with them anymore! And then it’ll be fall! And cooler weather! And pumpkins! And spicy lattes! And! And! Hooray!
Tony the Brony: Hmm. Yeah, I won’t have to deal with mine anymore, either! Now they’re someone else’s problem! And also, here comes No Shave November! Yay!

Stephanie Swoops in to Save the Day: There’s always boarding school.

*two sets of eyes blink back at her*

Stephanie Saving the Day: That way you’d never have to deal with them again!

Act Five: D is for Denial and Doom

Whiny Wendy: I’m so depressed. I can’t believe the year is almost gone. It’s already November. How is it November? Where did it come from?
Virulent Vicky: Well at least you don’t have to six kids to buy presents for.

Stephanie tries to be reasonable: You don’t have to buy presents, you know.
*Stephanie is resoundingly ignored.*

Whiny Wendy: But I don’t understand how we got here. It will be 2017 before you know it. How does this happen? I haven’t even gotten used to writing 2016 yet. Hashtag FML.
Virulent Vicky: Well at least you don’t have in-laws and extended family descending upon your house for three weeks. Vultures, all of them. I hate them all. Hashtag FML.

Whiny Wendy: What am I gonna do? I didn’t keep my New Years’ Resolutions for this year! And now I have to make new ones!
Virulent Vicky: Oh who cares. I’ve got it way worse than you. Why does this shit keep happening to me? It’s like everyone is out to get me. It couldn’t possibly get any worse!

Stephanie tries once more: I hear ya. It’s tough living in Sudan.

*two sets of eyes blink back at her*

Whiny Wendy: What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get it.
Virulent Vicky: It means she’s an asshole. Let’s go. I need to do a passive-aggressive post on Facebook about her and about how much it sucks to be forced to spend $2,000 on Christmas presents.

lucy peanuts
I dedicate this cartoon to all of the aforementioned assholes.

The End.