Sunday, March 27, 2005

early evening

I Hate Almost Everyone and Everything

Why is that, you ask?  Hell if I know.  Not more than five hours ago, I was just sitting and thinking about how happy and content I was.  I don’t know where I went wrong to swing the other way, but when I wake in the morning, it had better all be right again.  At least we’ll be able to bring Cricket home and cuddle with our gimpy little pup.  She was so cute when we went to go see her yesterday.  All doped up and woozy, but clearly happy to see us.  It was really nice of the vet’s office (Creature Comforts) to let us in to see her.  We thought they closed at 6p on Saturdays, but alas, that wasn’t true, they close at 5p.  We, of course, arrived at 5:05p.  Duh, us.  Anyway, they very nicely let us in, and even better, put us in a room and brought Cricket out to us.  We only thought we might be able to see her quickly for a couple of pets, while she was in her li’l recovery cage.  So, big thanks to Denise & Stephanie for letting us in and to Becky for bringing our monster baby out to see us.  It was nice to see that she was doing so well.  It was an extra nice thing we could hold onto after we heard the horror of her $2300 bill.  Gah!  Last year, when she had both knees done, it was maybe $1800 or so.  Oh well, that’s what the Care Credit card is for, no?  Naturally, we’d just finished paying it off after Chelsea’s feeding tube extravaganza.  But, it wouldn’t be our lives if that card didn’t have some big pet expense on it.

I’m really babbling here.  I’m losing control of my life maybe.  I’ve gone so low that I checked out FlyLady because I sure could use some help organizing my life.  I feel like I’m surrounded by stuff, lots of stuff.  Before the house was appraised and we had the leaky windows and all, the house was mostly presentable.  But then we got sick and we spread the sickness (clutter, not vomit, sillies) all over the house.  And maybe not so much we as I.  I know I have a big clutter problem.  Actually, it’s a big procrastination problem because I don’t like living like this.  Also, by “like this”, I don’t mean we live in one of those scary houses you see on Animal Cops, where they have 50 dogs/cats locked up into two rooms and it’s really gross.  We just have a bit of a clutter problem, especially now with the new business equipment.  Who really has room for a sandblasting cabinet, a dye sub printer, an Imprintor, eight dozen mugs, a large heat press and a mug press?  I’m guessing not a lot of people.  I admit to being responsible for the general clutter and I certainly could be responsible for attempting to get rid of the dust from the yard that settles over everything in every room downstairs.  Maybe FlyLady could help, although ten emails a day?  It would be like my mother nagging me.  Of course, I can tell these emails to fuck off if I want to.  It can’t hurt to try, I guess.  There’s always “unsubscribe”.

I have another complaint.  The font is so small when I’m writing this that I can’t always tell if I’ve spelled everything correctly, and I’d go batshit if I saw a misspelled word on my blog.  Keep that in mind.  If you see one, from any entry, please write and let me know—it’s a typo and I must fix it.  Then again, I also need glasses.  Must be all these years of staring at the monitor.

This entry is so insufferably boring that I think I might have to go find a cute pet picture to add something interesting.

Here’s a cute puppy picture of Cricket.  She was so tiny.

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

early evening

Attention, My Real Life Will Recommence April 1st

Until such time I can focus my total love and attention on you, dear blog, I’m going to post haphazardly, aimlessly, helter-skeltery, et al.  But I promise you, on April 1st, I’m going to lavish attention on you.  Attention like you’ve never experienced before.

Anyway, until then, I’m gonna rant about Bill Frist, obviously the most incompetent doctor to ever graduate from Harvard Medical School.  What an idiot!  The Bush Boys - gag.  Let...the...poor...woman...go.  Tom DeLay - whoa, his head is spinning with inappropriateness and hypocrisy.

Whitney Houston, back in rehab, again.  Fucking pay someone to be your friend and stay with you and hang up on your drug dealer.  Barry Bonds, asshole supreme.  He’s gonna quit, then he’s going to slowly shrivel into a mere slip of a man.  He’ll also become a human being again, instead of an animal.  He’ll write a book, apologize for being a ‘roid jerk and he’ll make even more money.

I’m reading one of the most disturbing books I’ve ever read My Life Among the Serial Killers : Inside the Minds of the World’s Most Notorious Murderers.  I’ve read all kinds of nasty true crime books, but I didn’t know about any of this serial killer medical experimentation stuff.  I suppose I should’ve guessed, but ack, I didn’t.  The author is a bit pretentious, but I don’t mind it much.  I just want the crime parts.  Yeah, I know it’s sick.  But don’t worry, after this book, I think I’m reading something uplifting and gentle.

Saturday, March 19, 2005

evening

Crud, My Brain Cells Are Dying

According to Leigh-Ann, every time I cough, I lose a brain cell.  Since that’s happened with great frequency lately, I feel I must let the Internet know that Leigh-Ann is very very mean.  I’ve been sick with this damned cold for, what is it now, 16 days?  I think I deserve a little sympathy for my moments of being wracked by heaving uncontrollable coughs.  Now, not only are the coughs deeply distressing, but I’m assuredly losing brain cells.  Crud.  Maybe if I get some extra sleep in the next few days, I can grow the cells back.  Aw, screw it, I is s-m-r-t enuf.  I’ll just deal, man.

You know, this blog is turning into a waste of time for my three readers.  I’ve written nothing of substance in weeks.  The only strangers who come by are the spammers who try to spam my stats - hello, idiots, my stats that you’re spamming aren’t visible.  Not only that, I’ve blacklisted your urls now.  So, screw you Friendfinder affiliates, you’re not welcome here.

This Terri Schiavo business is really pissing me off.  All you politicians, right-to-lifers and Mel Gibson freaks just mind your own fucking business.  It’s not YOUR family member.  Consider this - Terri Schiavo got into this predicament because she was anorexic or bulimic and she had a stroke.  Do you people honestly think she’d want to live like this?  Consider how she wanted to look before she died.  Consider how she looks and what’s left of her now.  Really.  Think about it.  There is no quality of life.  Plus, if you’re on the side of Randall Terry, you can always consider yourself dead wrong.  Let the poor woman go in peace.

Friday, March 18, 2005

mid-morning

Unless You’re Delivering Something We Ordered Or Will Like

Then this new doormat of ours is meant for you unexpected visitors.  Everyone else knows to call. You can get your very own at Cost Plus.  They have all kinds of tasty candy there too, so browse, enjoy yourselves.

mid-morning

I Ate a Whole Bowl of Jelly Bellys In Only Two Sittings

They were “fruit bowl” flavored and very very good.  At first, I was totally horrified at what I’d done, but then I looked at the serving size.  About 35 pieces per serving, 5 servings in the bag.  I so got it to last at least four servings, so I consider that an accomplishment.  Hey, I was PMSing and now I’m MSing, so I deserve whatever the hell I want.  Besides, it’s day 5000 of the cold that will never die.  I’m still stuffy and I still have a cough and I’m still goddamned tired.  When will this crap end, man?  I don’t know, but I’m thinking a nap in my very very near future is going to fill me with good virus killing ideas.  Okay, here I come...zzzzz.