At the end of the semester.
Ya know, I technically started this blog all the way back in 2015?
Thing is, I never posted anything on it. Oh, I'd write drafts and save bits and pieces of things I thought I'd get around to posting, but never did.
I always thought it be fun to keep a blog, I have a pretty weird life when you get right down to it, but I just never could keep myself on track of actually doing it. I mean, my past 6 posts have all come only within the last 2 weeks. The one before those was in March.
Either way, it's been an interesting ride doing this. Did I mention I was doing this for a class? Probably not, I never think about that stuff till way later. (Oh look! It's later!)
Any way, class is over. School's out. It's summer time my friends, and I look forward to enjoying it as much as I can.
Maybe I'll keep this up somehow, but I kind of doubt it though, I'm pretty lame that way.
Thanks for stopping by, have a good summer everyone. ;D
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Tuesday, May 8, 2018
How I Got Here
What do normal people do with their lives? Can someone please explain this to me?
From a super young age everyone is always asking us: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Some kids say a policeman, some say an actor, some say a doctor, etc. But some of us, some of us have NO FUCKING IDEA.
I have been asked what I want to grow up to be/do with my life for close to 20 years now, and I STILL do not have an answer. How do you know? How do you find this thing that fulfills you so? Does it really fulfill you, or do you just do it because you have to do something?
The worst job I had I barely lasted 3 months at. I had crippling panic attacks every single day and spent what little time I wasn't on the phone, crying as quietly as I could at my desk. I worked at a call center.
I'd had jobs before that one, the first one I'd ever had was retail because, duh. I worked in cosmetics sales. It was frustrating, often demoralizing, and incredibly tiring.
Then I got sick of retail, and wanted to try and find something that made me feel like I made a difference. So, I got a job at my vet's office. In the kennels. For shit pay and shit hours. But I loved it. I hated the hours, but I loved the job, so everything was okay.
Then the money I had saved up from working retail ran out and I started hemorrhaging money, because one cannot survive on $140 a week. Well, one can, but one plus two dogs and a cat cannot. I know, I know, don't get animals if you can't afford them. Well, when I got them, I could afford them, it had never been a problem until then.
So, feeling like I needed to suck it up and act like an adult and get a big girl job, I quit the job I loved and got a Phone Banker job at "We'll Go Far". How did I do there? Refer to paragraph 4.
Just to emphasise exactly how bad it actually was: I lost 15 pounds in 4 days.
I wasn't eating, I wasn't sleeping. I was a human train-wreck and I was making everyone around me miserable.
So, after a very heartfelt conversation with my older brother, I quit.
I'm not sure I've ever been more ashamed of myself in my entire life.
After that I floated for a while and then I got a job at a bookstore (my dream job, in fact) but it was only temporary, and they ultimately let me go at the end of my contracted time.
Funny thing was, I wasn't that sad. I mean, I'm salty about it now, because, fuck you, I'm a good worker, but at the time I was just relieved. You see, I had decided I was finally gonna go back to school.
Scary shit, I know, but so far, it's been pretty damn good. I've enjoyed most of my classes and professors, I've met some surprisingly nice people, all in all, I can't complain too much.
I still have no idea what I ultimately wanna do with my life, but at least now I feel like I'm actively figuring it out.
From a super young age everyone is always asking us: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Some kids say a policeman, some say an actor, some say a doctor, etc. But some of us, some of us have NO FUCKING IDEA.
I have been asked what I want to grow up to be/do with my life for close to 20 years now, and I STILL do not have an answer. How do you know? How do you find this thing that fulfills you so? Does it really fulfill you, or do you just do it because you have to do something?
The worst job I had I barely lasted 3 months at. I had crippling panic attacks every single day and spent what little time I wasn't on the phone, crying as quietly as I could at my desk. I worked at a call center.
I'd had jobs before that one, the first one I'd ever had was retail because, duh. I worked in cosmetics sales. It was frustrating, often demoralizing, and incredibly tiring.
Then I got sick of retail, and wanted to try and find something that made me feel like I made a difference. So, I got a job at my vet's office. In the kennels. For shit pay and shit hours. But I loved it. I hated the hours, but I loved the job, so everything was okay.
Then the money I had saved up from working retail ran out and I started hemorrhaging money, because one cannot survive on $140 a week. Well, one can, but one plus two dogs and a cat cannot. I know, I know, don't get animals if you can't afford them. Well, when I got them, I could afford them, it had never been a problem until then.
So, feeling like I needed to suck it up and act like an adult and get a big girl job, I quit the job I loved and got a Phone Banker job at "We'll Go Far". How did I do there? Refer to paragraph 4.
Just to emphasise exactly how bad it actually was: I lost 15 pounds in 4 days.
I wasn't eating, I wasn't sleeping. I was a human train-wreck and I was making everyone around me miserable.
So, after a very heartfelt conversation with my older brother, I quit.
I'm not sure I've ever been more ashamed of myself in my entire life.
After that I floated for a while and then I got a job at a bookstore (my dream job, in fact) but it was only temporary, and they ultimately let me go at the end of my contracted time.
Funny thing was, I wasn't that sad. I mean, I'm salty about it now, because, fuck you, I'm a good worker, but at the time I was just relieved. You see, I had decided I was finally gonna go back to school.
Scary shit, I know, but so far, it's been pretty damn good. I've enjoyed most of my classes and professors, I've met some surprisingly nice people, all in all, I can't complain too much.
I still have no idea what I ultimately wanna do with my life, but at least now I feel like I'm actively figuring it out.
Monday, May 7, 2018
That's Very Deceptive
I was at the store earlier today and had the deep misfortune to be behind one of "those" customers.
You know the ones.
Anyway, as I stood in line, holding my treasure trove of chips, candy bars, and soda (it's movie night, stop judging me), I heard them utter the phrase that most made my skin crawl when I worked retail.
"That's very deceptive."
Get the fuck out of my store.
And so, I would like to share with you all now, a letter I started years ago and have finally now finished.
Please enjoy:
Dear Cherished Customers,
Do you know the meaning of the word "deceptive"?
Because, to quote the great Inigo Montoya:
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Let me explain it to you:
Finding a high priced item mislaid in the lower priced spot next to it is not "deceptive".
Finding an item hanging ABOVE a sale tag with one price, when all of our items are placed UNDER their sale tags, and thinking it is that price is not "deceptive".
Finding that you will only be refunded half the price of your "buy one get one FREE" item, is not "deceptive".
Sometimes people pick things up and then decide they don't want them after all, so they just lay them wherever. It happens quite often, and we here at [Large Pharmacy Company] do not hold people's laziness against them; we all do it! As a matter of fact, I just finished picking up the $80 night cream you left on our clearance endstand not 10 minutes ago.
Valued customer, have you looked around our store? Have you seen the other items hanging on the walls? Have you noticed anything strange about them? Have you, by any chance, seen that they are all hanging under their price tags?
Yes, I understand that the Bluetooth headset you want to buy is hanging above a tag that says $10, but if you'll notice, the tag you speak of says it's for a pair of headphones and the tag your headset is hanging under clearly reads "Bluetooth Headset $39.99".
And see that little text on your receipt under your purchased "buy one get one free" items? See how it says the words "return value"? See how both your full priced and your free item show the same dollar amount next to those words? That's how that works, dear customer!
You see, nothing is really free, you're technically just getting both items at 50% off. I'll admit, to make things more clear, the tags should just state that both items are half off, but, sadly, I do not get to choose the prices of the items (much as you seem to think I do).
We know you would never try to scam us by returning one item for a full refund and keeping the "free" item, essentially stealing that item from us because, by your own assertion, you did not pay for that item in the first place. But we are a business after all and if, by some impossible chance, such a thing were to happen, we would be straight fucked and then who would you get your buy one get one free items from?
So you see, esteemed customer, I have never tried to deceive you.
I would never do such a heinous thing!
Unless, that is, I have a sales quota to meet and you're looking at an electric pink lipstick to go with your mint green eye shadow.
Then I might fudge the truth a bit.
You know the ones.
Anyway, as I stood in line, holding my treasure trove of chips, candy bars, and soda (it's movie night, stop judging me), I heard them utter the phrase that most made my skin crawl when I worked retail.
"That's very deceptive."
Get the fuck out of my store.
And so, I would like to share with you all now, a letter I started years ago and have finally now finished.
Please enjoy:
Dear Cherished Customers,
Do you know the meaning of the word "deceptive"?
Because, to quote the great Inigo Montoya:
You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
Let me explain it to you:
Finding a high priced item mislaid in the lower priced spot next to it is not "deceptive".
Finding an item hanging ABOVE a sale tag with one price, when all of our items are placed UNDER their sale tags, and thinking it is that price is not "deceptive".
Finding that you will only be refunded half the price of your "buy one get one FREE" item, is not "deceptive".
Sometimes people pick things up and then decide they don't want them after all, so they just lay them wherever. It happens quite often, and we here at [Large Pharmacy Company] do not hold people's laziness against them; we all do it! As a matter of fact, I just finished picking up the $80 night cream you left on our clearance endstand not 10 minutes ago.
Valued customer, have you looked around our store? Have you seen the other items hanging on the walls? Have you noticed anything strange about them? Have you, by any chance, seen that they are all hanging under their price tags?
Yes, I understand that the Bluetooth headset you want to buy is hanging above a tag that says $10, but if you'll notice, the tag you speak of says it's for a pair of headphones and the tag your headset is hanging under clearly reads "Bluetooth Headset $39.99".
And see that little text on your receipt under your purchased "buy one get one free" items? See how it says the words "return value"? See how both your full priced and your free item show the same dollar amount next to those words? That's how that works, dear customer!
You see, nothing is really free, you're technically just getting both items at 50% off. I'll admit, to make things more clear, the tags should just state that both items are half off, but, sadly, I do not get to choose the prices of the items (much as you seem to think I do).
We know you would never try to scam us by returning one item for a full refund and keeping the "free" item, essentially stealing that item from us because, by your own assertion, you did not pay for that item in the first place. But we are a business after all and if, by some impossible chance, such a thing were to happen, we would be straight fucked and then who would you get your buy one get one free items from?
So you see, esteemed customer, I have never tried to deceive you.
I would never do such a heinous thing!
Unless, that is, I have a sales quota to meet and you're looking at an electric pink lipstick to go with your mint green eye shadow.
Then I might fudge the truth a bit.
Friday, May 4, 2018
Friends + PvP = A Good Time
"FUCK THIS GARBAGE!"
This is quite possibly the most common phrase uttered during a game of GW2 PvP with my friends. The three of us have anger issues, I think, and PvP seems to be a good way to get them out.
Now, I hate PvP, I pretty much always have. And that, dear readers, is because I suck nuts at it. I am not afraid to admit this, it is a cold hard fact. The only game I was ever good at PvP in was Unreal Championship. I kicked ass at that game. Somehow though, my "skills" have not carried over.
That being said, I'm adequate at GW2 PvP. I'm certainly not the best, oh fuck no, but I do pretty well. And listening to my friends yell obscenities at the other players is ever so much fun. There's nothing quite like hearing your most respectable, motherly friend call someone a weaselly bastard. It's good for the soul.
That's one of the things I love best about video games, and I guess what scares some other people. Video games are a great place to take all your rage. To some people, they see that as a bad thing, like it's teaching you to hurt other people when your mad.
No, this is me, going somewhere completely unreal, where there's no one around to actually get hurt, and taking out my anger.
To me, this is an insane concept. People put their kids in martial art classes, and football, and a whole hell of a lot of other shit and never once wonder if it'll make them violent. Fuck, in my state, almost every friend I have has shot a gun before the age of 8, myself included. It's like:
"Hey Billy, you just turned 5, time to try your first gun!"
"Come on, Billy! Fuck 'em up!"
Yes, it's video games that are making us violent. Totally.
But I didn't start this particular post to preach, we don't know each other well enough for that yet. I don't wanna scare you away, we've only just begun this relationship. I'll wait till the 4th, maybe 5th date, then we can talk about all the things that piss me off.
Anywho, time to go grind some scrubs into the dirt.
More like get my scrub-ass self ground into the dirt, but who cares?
As long as I get to hear Sammy tell someone to suck her left ovary, I'll be happy.
This is quite possibly the most common phrase uttered during a game of GW2 PvP with my friends. The three of us have anger issues, I think, and PvP seems to be a good way to get them out.
Now, I hate PvP, I pretty much always have. And that, dear readers, is because I suck nuts at it. I am not afraid to admit this, it is a cold hard fact. The only game I was ever good at PvP in was Unreal Championship. I kicked ass at that game. Somehow though, my "skills" have not carried over.
That being said, I'm adequate at GW2 PvP. I'm certainly not the best, oh fuck no, but I do pretty well. And listening to my friends yell obscenities at the other players is ever so much fun. There's nothing quite like hearing your most respectable, motherly friend call someone a weaselly bastard. It's good for the soul.
That's one of the things I love best about video games, and I guess what scares some other people. Video games are a great place to take all your rage. To some people, they see that as a bad thing, like it's teaching you to hurt other people when your mad.
No, this is me, going somewhere completely unreal, where there's no one around to actually get hurt, and taking out my anger.
To me, this is an insane concept. People put their kids in martial art classes, and football, and a whole hell of a lot of other shit and never once wonder if it'll make them violent. Fuck, in my state, almost every friend I have has shot a gun before the age of 8, myself included. It's like:
"Hey Billy, you just turned 5, time to try your first gun!"
"Come on, Billy! Fuck 'em up!"
Yes, it's video games that are making us violent. Totally.
But I didn't start this particular post to preach, we don't know each other well enough for that yet. I don't wanna scare you away, we've only just begun this relationship. I'll wait till the 4th, maybe 5th date, then we can talk about all the things that piss me off.
Anywho, time to go grind some scrubs into the dirt.
More like get my scrub-ass self ground into the dirt, but who cares?
As long as I get to hear Sammy tell someone to suck her left ovary, I'll be happy.
Thursday, May 3, 2018
The Whole Menagerie - Part 2
These next few are all "my" pets, so their backstories will be slightly more involved. (Because anything that I'm a part of has to be at least twice as complicated as what anyone else is a part of.)
Sir Sheldon von Wigglebottom (Sheldon Cooper):
(2012-Present)
Responds to: Sheldon, Shelly, Shelly Belly, Shell-Bell, Shelly Boo, Boogie Shel, Boogie, Sheldaronie, Shel Shel, Jackass, Jerk-face, Fluffy Bastard, Fuzzy Butt, etc
Breed: Pembroke Welsh Corgi
Personality: Fluffy Asshole Prince
Backstory: Ever since watching the anime Cowboy Bebop and falling in love with the dog, Ein, I had wanted a Corgi. A year after I graduated High School, I decided I was going to have one. I scoured the internet for listings with breeders or adoption centers. Sadly there were no corgis up for adoption, but there was a lady who's dog had just had puppies and she was selling them for $650. At least, that's what the ad said. So, I got my mom to drive me down to meet her and the pups and fell in love with a little red one. I paid a $350 deposit and started setting up where his bed would be. About 2 weeks before he was supposed to be ready to leave his mother, the lady emailed us saying we needed to pick him up early and bring the other $500 with us when we go him.
...Umm, what?
First of all, he's only 6 weeks old, he's not ready to leave his mama.
Secondly, another $500 would make him $850, not $650 like her ad had said.
She claimed not to know what I was talking about and said if I didn't want him, she'd find someone else to take him. I said okay, find someone else, but give me my $350 deposit back, because she'd tried to trick me and I wasn't going to play her game.
She refused.
Y'all. I was so pissed.
Luckily, my credit card company (Hi, Chase, love y'all <3) sided with me and canceled the payment of my deposit, so I didn't get completely screwed, but I was still heartbroken not to have my new little buddy.
Not too long after that, I got an email from a breeder I had contacted with some questions while searching, letting me know that she had a litter of pups I could look at if I was interested. I explained what had happened to me and that I was a little nervous to get attached and have my heartbroken again.
Funnily enough, she knew exactly who I was talking about when I told her the story. She apologized for my bad experience and said she understood why I'd be a little gun-shy, but that the offer still stood.
So, I took a chance and went all the way to Dallas to meet her at her home. She had one puppy left who hadn't been spoken for and he was an adorable little puffball of perfection. I made plans to come back a month later when he would was weaned and take him home. No deposit, just the promise that I'd give him a good home.
A month, $400, and a very long drive later, I had my little man and he's been making my life very interesting ever since.
Pixel:
(2014-Present)
Responds to: Pixel, Pixie, Pixie-Kitty, Pix, Pic Pic, Picky Picky Pixel, Pixie-Pie, etc
Breed: Grey Tabby Cat
Personality: Rude
Backstory: About 3 months before I quit my job at [Insert Large Pharmacy Here], I was helping bring in a shipment of items for the store. We'd been about halfway through when I thought I heard a strange noise. I paused for a moment and listened, but didn't hear it again over the noise of the engine of the delivery truck and my coworkers, so I shrugged it off. Then, as we were finishing up, I heard it again. Teeny, tiny, mewling.
I wandered around the other side of the truck and looked out into the field behind the building. There, in the weeds, was an itty-bitty kitty, struggling to get out of a bush. I made my way over to him slowly, ignoring my coworker when she asked me where I was going, and plucked him from his prison. The looks on all my coworkers faces when I carried him back inside was priceless.
"How the hell did you find that???"
I shrugged, "He was crying."
They couldn't believe I'd heard him over all the noise.
From there I called my mom and set up an appointment with my vet for him.
He was a runt of a kitten, small enough to sit in the palm of my hand, so I named him Pixel, because those are tiny too.
He's not so tiny anymore.
Watson:
(2016-Present)
Responds to: Watson, Watsie, Wattie Wat, Watsie Woo, Watsie Woodles, Watsy-totsie, Watsaroonie, Big Man, Big Ole Muffin, etc.
Breed: Yellow Lab
Personality: Big, Lovable Dope
Backstory: On a lovely February day back when I was working at my Vet's office, my Vet led a 5 year old yellow lab back into the boarding area. He told us the lab had been found on the highway with a leash dangling from his collar and brought in by the couple who'd found him. He was going to be staying with us for a little while until they could get him checked over to make sure he wouldn't get their other dogs sick.
I remember looking him in the face as the doctor walked away and thinking, "I'm gonna go home with this dog."
Sure enough, a couple days later, the doctor came back and told us that the lab had heartworms and the couple didn't want him anymore. That began the long battle of my fellow kennel workers and I vs the practice Manager to get the clinic to treat the lab for his heartworms. They would let him stay until he got adopted or space ran out, and if space ran out, they would euthanize him. I did everything I could to find him a home that wasn't mine (we already had 3 dogs and 3 cats, we could NOT have another animal). Finally, he went into heart failure from not being treated and started coughing blood. My coworker texted me to tell me that one of the other doctor's had noticed and, having a soft spot for labs, checked him over and gave him a prescription medication for heart failure.
I said screw it, I'm coming to get him.
My vet, angry that the practice manager had let it get so far, vetoed him and told me the clinic would cover the cost of the lab's heartworm treatment. Bless.
I lied to myself for a little while longer, saying we were just fostering him, but I'd known from the second I saw him what was going to happen.
Bonus Pet:
Zoe:
(2009-2013)
"But, Grey, why didn't you just include Zoe like Ellie instead of making her a bonus pet?"
Because Zoe wasn't around when all the others were at the same time. While I've had 7 pets at a time, I've never had 8. Zoe passed away before Pixel and Watson ever came along.
Responded to: Zoe, Zo-Zo, Beauty Queen of Beauty
Breed: Egyptian Mau/Tabby
Personality: Queen
Backstory: One summer afternoon, I was sitting in the backroom of my house watching TV when I heard a strange noise. I went outside and found an itty-bitty kitty up a tree being stalked by big black cat. How I heard her tiny mews from all the way inside with no doors or windows, I will never know, but I'm glad I did.
I chased the black cat away and then spent the next 8 hours trying to coax the kitten to me. It was a long fought battle, but eventually my brother tricked her into a carrier by making a line of food into it.
After a trip to the vet, she was part of the family. She lived with us for four years before she got sick. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, watching her slowly decline. I was selfish and wanted to believe we could do something to save her, so I kept putting off having her euthanized. Finally, the night before I finally relented to letting her go, she disappeared. We'd put her outside under her favorite bush, we didn't think she could even walk by then and she'd always loved it outside so we thought we should let her spend her last day in peace in a place she loved. Sometime when we weren't looking, she got up and left. I was heartbroken, I knew that often times cats would go away to die alone. We looked for her all night, only giving up when the sun started to rise. We spent the next day grieving and tried to go to bed as early as we could to make up for the night before. I was just about to fall asleep when my mom comes into my room with Zoe in her arms.
She came back.
We laid with her the rest of the night and then first thing in the morning, we took her to the vet to say our final goodbyes.
Sir Sheldon von Wigglebottom (Sheldon Cooper):
(2012-Present)
Responds to: Sheldon, Shelly, Shelly Belly, Shell-Bell, Shelly Boo, Boogie Shel, Boogie, Sheldaronie, Shel Shel, Jackass, Jerk-face, Fluffy Bastard, Fuzzy Butt, etc
Breed: Pembroke Welsh Corgi
Personality: Fluffy Asshole Prince
Backstory: Ever since watching the anime Cowboy Bebop and falling in love with the dog, Ein, I had wanted a Corgi. A year after I graduated High School, I decided I was going to have one. I scoured the internet for listings with breeders or adoption centers. Sadly there were no corgis up for adoption, but there was a lady who's dog had just had puppies and she was selling them for $650. At least, that's what the ad said. So, I got my mom to drive me down to meet her and the pups and fell in love with a little red one. I paid a $350 deposit and started setting up where his bed would be. About 2 weeks before he was supposed to be ready to leave his mother, the lady emailed us saying we needed to pick him up early and bring the other $500 with us when we go him.
...Umm, what?
First of all, he's only 6 weeks old, he's not ready to leave his mama.
Secondly, another $500 would make him $850, not $650 like her ad had said.
She claimed not to know what I was talking about and said if I didn't want him, she'd find someone else to take him. I said okay, find someone else, but give me my $350 deposit back, because she'd tried to trick me and I wasn't going to play her game.
She refused.
Y'all. I was so pissed.
Luckily, my credit card company (Hi, Chase, love y'all <3) sided with me and canceled the payment of my deposit, so I didn't get completely screwed, but I was still heartbroken not to have my new little buddy.
Not too long after that, I got an email from a breeder I had contacted with some questions while searching, letting me know that she had a litter of pups I could look at if I was interested. I explained what had happened to me and that I was a little nervous to get attached and have my heartbroken again.
Funnily enough, she knew exactly who I was talking about when I told her the story. She apologized for my bad experience and said she understood why I'd be a little gun-shy, but that the offer still stood.
So, I took a chance and went all the way to Dallas to meet her at her home. She had one puppy left who hadn't been spoken for and he was an adorable little puffball of perfection. I made plans to come back a month later when he would was weaned and take him home. No deposit, just the promise that I'd give him a good home.
A month, $400, and a very long drive later, I had my little man and he's been making my life very interesting ever since.
Pixel:
(2014-Present)
Responds to: Pixel, Pixie, Pixie-Kitty, Pix, Pic Pic, Picky Picky Pixel, Pixie-Pie, etc
Breed: Grey Tabby Cat
Personality: Rude
Backstory: About 3 months before I quit my job at [Insert Large Pharmacy Here], I was helping bring in a shipment of items for the store. We'd been about halfway through when I thought I heard a strange noise. I paused for a moment and listened, but didn't hear it again over the noise of the engine of the delivery truck and my coworkers, so I shrugged it off. Then, as we were finishing up, I heard it again. Teeny, tiny, mewling.
I wandered around the other side of the truck and looked out into the field behind the building. There, in the weeds, was an itty-bitty kitty, struggling to get out of a bush. I made my way over to him slowly, ignoring my coworker when she asked me where I was going, and plucked him from his prison. The looks on all my coworkers faces when I carried him back inside was priceless.
"How the hell did you find that???"
I shrugged, "He was crying."
They couldn't believe I'd heard him over all the noise.
From there I called my mom and set up an appointment with my vet for him.
He was a runt of a kitten, small enough to sit in the palm of my hand, so I named him Pixel, because those are tiny too.
He's not so tiny anymore.
Watson:
(2016-Present)
Responds to: Watson, Watsie, Wattie Wat, Watsie Woo, Watsie Woodles, Watsy-totsie, Watsaroonie, Big Man, Big Ole Muffin, etc.
Breed: Yellow Lab
Personality: Big, Lovable Dope
Backstory: On a lovely February day back when I was working at my Vet's office, my Vet led a 5 year old yellow lab back into the boarding area. He told us the lab had been found on the highway with a leash dangling from his collar and brought in by the couple who'd found him. He was going to be staying with us for a little while until they could get him checked over to make sure he wouldn't get their other dogs sick.
I remember looking him in the face as the doctor walked away and thinking, "I'm gonna go home with this dog."
Sure enough, a couple days later, the doctor came back and told us that the lab had heartworms and the couple didn't want him anymore. That began the long battle of my fellow kennel workers and I vs the practice Manager to get the clinic to treat the lab for his heartworms. They would let him stay until he got adopted or space ran out, and if space ran out, they would euthanize him. I did everything I could to find him a home that wasn't mine (we already had 3 dogs and 3 cats, we could NOT have another animal). Finally, he went into heart failure from not being treated and started coughing blood. My coworker texted me to tell me that one of the other doctor's had noticed and, having a soft spot for labs, checked him over and gave him a prescription medication for heart failure.
I said screw it, I'm coming to get him.
My vet, angry that the practice manager had let it get so far, vetoed him and told me the clinic would cover the cost of the lab's heartworm treatment. Bless.
I lied to myself for a little while longer, saying we were just fostering him, but I'd known from the second I saw him what was going to happen.
Bonus Pet:
Zoe:
(2009-2013)
"But, Grey, why didn't you just include Zoe like Ellie instead of making her a bonus pet?"
Because Zoe wasn't around when all the others were at the same time. While I've had 7 pets at a time, I've never had 8. Zoe passed away before Pixel and Watson ever came along.
Responded to: Zoe, Zo-Zo, Beauty Queen of Beauty
Breed: Egyptian Mau/Tabby
Personality: Queen
Backstory: One summer afternoon, I was sitting in the backroom of my house watching TV when I heard a strange noise. I went outside and found an itty-bitty kitty up a tree being stalked by big black cat. How I heard her tiny mews from all the way inside with no doors or windows, I will never know, but I'm glad I did.
I chased the black cat away and then spent the next 8 hours trying to coax the kitten to me. It was a long fought battle, but eventually my brother tricked her into a carrier by making a line of food into it.
After a trip to the vet, she was part of the family. She lived with us for four years before she got sick. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, watching her slowly decline. I was selfish and wanted to believe we could do something to save her, so I kept putting off having her euthanized. Finally, the night before I finally relented to letting her go, she disappeared. We'd put her outside under her favorite bush, we didn't think she could even walk by then and she'd always loved it outside so we thought we should let her spend her last day in peace in a place she loved. Sometime when we weren't looking, she got up and left. I was heartbroken, I knew that often times cats would go away to die alone. We looked for her all night, only giving up when the sun started to rise. We spent the next day grieving and tried to go to bed as early as we could to make up for the night before. I was just about to fall asleep when my mom comes into my room with Zoe in her arms.
She came back.
We laid with her the rest of the night and then first thing in the morning, we took her to the vet to say our final goodbyes.
Wednesday, May 2, 2018
The Whole Menagerie - Part 1
I have 6 pets.
I used to have 7, but one of my dogs passed away about a year ago.
Basically what I'm saying is that I'm abso-fuckin-lutely insane.
Look, I love animals, I wouldn't have so damn many if I didn't; the thing is, they drive me completely insane.
Let me introduce them to you in order of who came first (I'll be including Ellie, even though she passed away, because I want to and no one can stop me).
The "Family" Pets:
Ellie:
(2003-2017)
Responded to: Ellie, Ellie-Bell, Ella-baloo, Ellie Bellie, Elle-Bell, Queen Ellie, Beauty Queen, etc.
Breed: Idk my dudes, some kinda dobie mix (we always thought huskie because she was a fiend for running).
Personality: Grumpy Old Lady
Backstory: My mom adopted Ellie from the Humane Society as a puppy in part for my birthday. She was the first dog we'd had for a very long time and we all loved her like crazy. She'd been dumped on the side of the rode with the rest of her litter and picked up by concerned passers-by. When my mom went to meet and decide which puppy she wanted to adopt, Ellie gave her a tiny lick on the nose and my mom melted.
She was my mom's baby, wholeheartedly devoted from the beginning till the very end.
On her last day with us, she wait for hours for my mom to come home from the grocery store, greeted her at the front gate, then passed away. It was more dramatic than that, unfortunately, but I'd rather not relive that particular moment.
She has her own special garden in our backyard.
Peanut:
(2008-Present)
Responds to: Peanut, Peanut-butter, Nutter Butter, Butter Butt, Nut Butt, Butter Nut, Fatty, Sir Eatsalot, P-Kitty, P-Diddy-Kitty, P-fat, Fat P, etc
Breed: Fatty-I mean Tabby-Cat
Personality: Feed Me
Backstory: Peanut came into our lives out of thin air. Literally. He dropped out of the tree above our driveway and looked at my mother like: "Oh hi, I live here now." We spent a decent amount of time trying to figure out a name for him, it was quite the struggle. Then we caught him licking Peanut-butter off my brother's toaster waffles. Problem solved.
Penny:
(2012-Present)
Responds to: Penny, Pen Pen, Pennypurr, Henny Penny, Hen Pen, Pinny, Spaz Cat, Bitchy Kit, etc.
Breed: Tuxedo (Probaby) Cat
Personality: Flaily Moron
Backstory: Penny came to us fro Kingsville, Texas. She saw my brother in the A&M Kingsville parking lot and thought he looked like a good dad. He kept her in secret in his apartment for a couple days before he could drive home and bring her to us. Initially we were going to bring her to a shelter to find her a new home, but uh...that didn't happen.
Lady:
(2014-Present)
Responds to: Lady, Lady-loo, Lulu, etc
Breed: Fluffy Mutt
Personality: Clingy brat
Backstory: Lady came to us from across the street. Though she always hung around the house across the street, the owners insisted she wasn't theirs. They would kick at her, yell at her, and turn her out all the time. Finally my mom and I got sick of watching it and took her in. She was another pet we'd fully intended to only foster until we found her a good home. Unfortunately my father grew attached to her and insisted we keep her.
I say unfortunately because my Corgi hates her, whereas she is completely head over heels for him (I guess that's what you'd call it). She is all over him 24/7. He can't even take a pee without her being right on top of him. And boy, does she love to fight. She picks and picks and picks at him until he gets angry and snaps and she jumps right into the fray.
She's an adorable doggo, but she really could use some dang manners!
I used to have 7, but one of my dogs passed away about a year ago.
Basically what I'm saying is that I'm abso-fuckin-lutely insane.
Look, I love animals, I wouldn't have so damn many if I didn't; the thing is, they drive me completely insane.
Let me introduce them to you in order of who came first (I'll be including Ellie, even though she passed away, because I want to and no one can stop me).
The "Family" Pets:
Ellie:
(2003-2017)
Responded to: Ellie, Ellie-Bell, Ella-baloo, Ellie Bellie, Elle-Bell, Queen Ellie, Beauty Queen, etc.
Breed: Idk my dudes, some kinda dobie mix (we always thought huskie because she was a fiend for running).
Personality: Grumpy Old Lady
Backstory: My mom adopted Ellie from the Humane Society as a puppy in part for my birthday. She was the first dog we'd had for a very long time and we all loved her like crazy. She'd been dumped on the side of the rode with the rest of her litter and picked up by concerned passers-by. When my mom went to meet and decide which puppy she wanted to adopt, Ellie gave her a tiny lick on the nose and my mom melted.
She was my mom's baby, wholeheartedly devoted from the beginning till the very end.
On her last day with us, she wait for hours for my mom to come home from the grocery store, greeted her at the front gate, then passed away. It was more dramatic than that, unfortunately, but I'd rather not relive that particular moment.
She has her own special garden in our backyard.
Peanut:
(2008-Present)
Responds to: Peanut, Peanut-butter, Nutter Butter, Butter Butt, Nut Butt, Butter Nut, Fatty, Sir Eatsalot, P-Kitty, P-Diddy-Kitty, P-fat, Fat P, etc
Breed: Fatty-I mean Tabby-Cat
Personality: Feed Me
Backstory: Peanut came into our lives out of thin air. Literally. He dropped out of the tree above our driveway and looked at my mother like: "Oh hi, I live here now." We spent a decent amount of time trying to figure out a name for him, it was quite the struggle. Then we caught him licking Peanut-butter off my brother's toaster waffles. Problem solved.
Penny:
(2012-Present)
Responds to: Penny, Pen Pen, Pennypurr, Henny Penny, Hen Pen, Pinny, Spaz Cat, Bitchy Kit, etc.
Breed: Tuxedo (Probaby) Cat
Personality: Flaily Moron
Backstory: Penny came to us fro Kingsville, Texas. She saw my brother in the A&M Kingsville parking lot and thought he looked like a good dad. He kept her in secret in his apartment for a couple days before he could drive home and bring her to us. Initially we were going to bring her to a shelter to find her a new home, but uh...that didn't happen.
Lady:
(2014-Present)
Responds to: Lady, Lady-loo, Lulu, etc
Breed: Fluffy Mutt
Personality: Clingy brat
Backstory: Lady came to us from across the street. Though she always hung around the house across the street, the owners insisted she wasn't theirs. They would kick at her, yell at her, and turn her out all the time. Finally my mom and I got sick of watching it and took her in. She was another pet we'd fully intended to only foster until we found her a good home. Unfortunately my father grew attached to her and insisted we keep her.
I say unfortunately because my Corgi hates her, whereas she is completely head over heels for him (I guess that's what you'd call it). She is all over him 24/7. He can't even take a pee without her being right on top of him. And boy, does she love to fight. She picks and picks and picks at him until he gets angry and snaps and she jumps right into the fray.
She's an adorable doggo, but she really could use some dang manners!
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Yakety Sax
Nothing I do can be simple, nothing ever goes to plan, and everything is always a mess.
"But wait," you ask. "What's Yakety Sax? What's the title mean?" We'll get to that, be patient.
Well, a few weeks ago, I had the perfect weekend. I finished all my school assignments early, I managed to snag a very rare and much sought after item in the game I'd been playing, there wasn't an ounce of drama to be found anywhere.
I have never been more paranoid in my entire life.
I spent the next week after that wondering when stuff was going to blow up and get crazy again.
Now, that's not to say that everyday after that was as perfect as that initial weekend had been, but it was pretty damn chill and that in and of itself was suspicious as all hell. Several of my classes over the next couple of weeks were canceled so was able to leave earlier or arrive later than usual and, in general, I just didn't have as much work. After a while, I sort of forgot to be paranoid.
And that's when it happened.
First, on the Saturday before Spring Break ended, I did not sleep. This was driven both a somewhat conscious choice ("It's already 8 am and you're not even remotely sleepy, you might as well stay up.") and the insomnia I've struggled with my whole life. How it happened doesn't really matter though, all that matters is that I didn't sleep for 36 hours and that I spent my entire last day of pure freedom feeling like I was going to die.
"Why not take a nap then?" You might ask.
To which I would have to respond, "That's adorable."
Had I taken a nap, I would not have slept again that night. I've had insomnia for over 20 years, I know how my body works. If I wanted to sleep that night before I started back to school, I absolutely had to stay awake the whole day. Needless to say, I felt like I was loosing my mind. As I went through the day, I felt like something was creeping up on me, almost as if I were hearing some sound closing in from far away.
Any way, that night, when I finally finished all the work I needed to do and allowed myself to pass out, I slept for almost 10 hours; more sleep than I have gotten in months (if not years). All warm, and snuggly, and content in my bed, I awoke to the sound of my mother.
"Grey, it's 10:30! Get up!"
It's about a half-hour drive from my house to my campus.
My first class of the day started at 11.
I'm not certain I've ever launched out of bed quite that quickly before.
Somehow, I managed to get dressed, inhale some breakfast, and bust ass out the door in time to make it to class only 5 to 7 minutes late. Phew. And as I sat down at my table, I heard that strange creeping sound again, a little closer this time, but still far enough away that I couldn't quite describe it.
So, today, I woke up around 11, lazed around in bed till noon, then got up and had a fairly sedate afternoon. My first class didn't start till 3:30 so I had plenty of time to get ready for the day.
We left the house around 3, at little late, but not too bad, if traffic was with us I'd probably make it to class right on time. Then I reach into my pocket and realize I don't have my phone.
Fuck.
So here's how it goes:
My mom pops a quick u-ey and we hustle back to the house where I search frantically for my phone and come up empty handed. Thoroughly confounded at this point, I poke my head out the front door and yell to my mom, still seated in the car, to please call my stupid phone.
"I did!" She shouts back, "I think I hear it in the car!"
..........What?
Back out to the car I go. Frustrated and confused, I yank open the passenger-side door and see my phone nestled securely in the space between the seat and the center console.
The time is now 3:20.
Double fuck.
I slipped into my class 15 minutes late, frustration and embarrassment written all over my face, and as I took my seat, I heard that creeping sound again. Only this time it wasn't creeping, it was loud and clear, and it was laughing at me.
"Oh, right," I thought, staring blankly at the wall as the theme song to my very being blared into my mind. "This is my life."
"But wait," you ask. "What's Yakety Sax? What's the title mean?" We'll get to that, be patient.
Well, a few weeks ago, I had the perfect weekend. I finished all my school assignments early, I managed to snag a very rare and much sought after item in the game I'd been playing, there wasn't an ounce of drama to be found anywhere.
I have never been more paranoid in my entire life.
I spent the next week after that wondering when stuff was going to blow up and get crazy again.
Now, that's not to say that everyday after that was as perfect as that initial weekend had been, but it was pretty damn chill and that in and of itself was suspicious as all hell. Several of my classes over the next couple of weeks were canceled so was able to leave earlier or arrive later than usual and, in general, I just didn't have as much work. After a while, I sort of forgot to be paranoid.
And that's when it happened.
First, on the Saturday before Spring Break ended, I did not sleep. This was driven both a somewhat conscious choice ("It's already 8 am and you're not even remotely sleepy, you might as well stay up.") and the insomnia I've struggled with my whole life. How it happened doesn't really matter though, all that matters is that I didn't sleep for 36 hours and that I spent my entire last day of pure freedom feeling like I was going to die.
"Why not take a nap then?" You might ask.
To which I would have to respond, "That's adorable."
Had I taken a nap, I would not have slept again that night. I've had insomnia for over 20 years, I know how my body works. If I wanted to sleep that night before I started back to school, I absolutely had to stay awake the whole day. Needless to say, I felt like I was loosing my mind. As I went through the day, I felt like something was creeping up on me, almost as if I were hearing some sound closing in from far away.
Any way, that night, when I finally finished all the work I needed to do and allowed myself to pass out, I slept for almost 10 hours; more sleep than I have gotten in months (if not years). All warm, and snuggly, and content in my bed, I awoke to the sound of my mother.
"Grey, it's 10:30! Get up!"
It's about a half-hour drive from my house to my campus.
My first class of the day started at 11.
I'm not certain I've ever launched out of bed quite that quickly before.
Somehow, I managed to get dressed, inhale some breakfast, and bust ass out the door in time to make it to class only 5 to 7 minutes late. Phew. And as I sat down at my table, I heard that strange creeping sound again, a little closer this time, but still far enough away that I couldn't quite describe it.
So, today, I woke up around 11, lazed around in bed till noon, then got up and had a fairly sedate afternoon. My first class didn't start till 3:30 so I had plenty of time to get ready for the day.
We left the house around 3, at little late, but not too bad, if traffic was with us I'd probably make it to class right on time. Then I reach into my pocket and realize I don't have my phone.
Fuck.
So here's how it goes:
My mom pops a quick u-ey and we hustle back to the house where I search frantically for my phone and come up empty handed. Thoroughly confounded at this point, I poke my head out the front door and yell to my mom, still seated in the car, to please call my stupid phone.
"I did!" She shouts back, "I think I hear it in the car!"
..........What?
Back out to the car I go. Frustrated and confused, I yank open the passenger-side door and see my phone nestled securely in the space between the seat and the center console.
The time is now 3:20.
Double fuck.
I slipped into my class 15 minutes late, frustration and embarrassment written all over my face, and as I took my seat, I heard that creeping sound again. Only this time it wasn't creeping, it was loud and clear, and it was laughing at me.
"Oh, right," I thought, staring blankly at the wall as the theme song to my very being blared into my mind. "This is my life."
Saturday, January 27, 2018
I'm a Liar
Hello and welcome, to a Cornucopia of Random crap, where I'll be writing about the crazy, random garbage that seems to permeate mine and my family's lives.
We'll start with a little about me:
My name is inconsequential, but for the purpose of this blog, we'll call me Grey (because even though my life seems to be filled with absolute nonsense most of the time, I myself am a rather bland and boring human being).
I have 6 pets. Yes, you read that right, 6. 3 dogs and 3 cats. I used to have 7, but one of my dogs passed away last April. (I only mention this because she may or may not be mentioned here at some point.)
I am sarcastic and cynical, with a short temper and a long memory. I do what I want, and screw anyone that tries to tell me otherwise.
Or, at least, that's what I tell myself.
I lie to myself like that a lot, I feel. I sometimes wonder if I think it's fun. Like it's some sort of game I can win if just try hard enough.
The biggest thing I lie to myself about is that, someday, I will finally grow up and figure out what I want to do with my life.
Truth is, I don't want to grow up. Change scares the fuck out of me. So much so that I can't even move a damn lamp in my bedroom without having a panic attack. (No, I'm not kidding. I spent the entire night sobbing like my dog had just died and moving it between two locations: It's original one on a shelf, and it's new one by my bedside.) So you can imagine what the idea of becoming a functioning member of society does to me.
I also don't really want to do anything with my life. I want nothing more than to be a lone, angry, little grump in the corner of happiness that is my computer, but that's not how life works. So, I lie to myself in an attempt to force myself to do that things I hate.
I understand that one has to work and be an adult, and do adult things to buy games and pay for doggy needs. These things are very important to me, very important indeed.
And so I get up every morning, promise myself that I will have a great day at school (lie), that I will eat a good breakfast, lunch, and dinner (lie), that I will do something other than sit on my computer playing online games all night (lie), and that today will be the day that the skies open up and I find a way to make all my dreams come true (super mega lie). And if I believe all these things, I win the game.
Lying to oneself is never lucrative and, as you may have already guessed, none of these things ever happen. But, it gets me through the day, and when I come home I flop down in my chair, I pat myself on the back because I won the game dammit.
See, winning isn't about having my lies become truths. It's about forcing myself to do the things I know I need to do to be a functioning person. If I can do that, at least I've accomplished something.
I didn't have a GREAT day at school, but I got through all my classes without much trouble and talked to a couple nice classmates.
I didn't eat GOOD meals, but I did have all 3. And look! I had oatmeal for breakfast instead of cookies! Good job me!
I was still a lazy little nerd and God didn't descend from the heavens to grant me a million dollars, but there's always tomorrow!
I don't really move forward, but at least I don't move back. And, at least in my mind, that counts for something.
So welcome to a Cornucopia of Random Crap.
We hope you'll enjoy your stay.
We'll start with a little about me:
My name is inconsequential, but for the purpose of this blog, we'll call me Grey (because even though my life seems to be filled with absolute nonsense most of the time, I myself am a rather bland and boring human being).
I have 6 pets. Yes, you read that right, 6. 3 dogs and 3 cats. I used to have 7, but one of my dogs passed away last April. (I only mention this because she may or may not be mentioned here at some point.)
I am sarcastic and cynical, with a short temper and a long memory. I do what I want, and screw anyone that tries to tell me otherwise.
Or, at least, that's what I tell myself.
I lie to myself like that a lot, I feel. I sometimes wonder if I think it's fun. Like it's some sort of game I can win if just try hard enough.
The biggest thing I lie to myself about is that, someday, I will finally grow up and figure out what I want to do with my life.
Truth is, I don't want to grow up. Change scares the fuck out of me. So much so that I can't even move a damn lamp in my bedroom without having a panic attack. (No, I'm not kidding. I spent the entire night sobbing like my dog had just died and moving it between two locations: It's original one on a shelf, and it's new one by my bedside.) So you can imagine what the idea of becoming a functioning member of society does to me.
I also don't really want to do anything with my life. I want nothing more than to be a lone, angry, little grump in the corner of happiness that is my computer, but that's not how life works. So, I lie to myself in an attempt to force myself to do that things I hate.
I understand that one has to work and be an adult, and do adult things to buy games and pay for doggy needs. These things are very important to me, very important indeed.
And so I get up every morning, promise myself that I will have a great day at school (lie), that I will eat a good breakfast, lunch, and dinner (lie), that I will do something other than sit on my computer playing online games all night (lie), and that today will be the day that the skies open up and I find a way to make all my dreams come true (super mega lie). And if I believe all these things, I win the game.
Lying to oneself is never lucrative and, as you may have already guessed, none of these things ever happen. But, it gets me through the day, and when I come home I flop down in my chair, I pat myself on the back because I won the game dammit.
See, winning isn't about having my lies become truths. It's about forcing myself to do the things I know I need to do to be a functioning person. If I can do that, at least I've accomplished something.
I didn't have a GREAT day at school, but I got through all my classes without much trouble and talked to a couple nice classmates.
I didn't eat GOOD meals, but I did have all 3. And look! I had oatmeal for breakfast instead of cookies! Good job me!
I was still a lazy little nerd and God didn't descend from the heavens to grant me a million dollars, but there's always tomorrow!
I don't really move forward, but at least I don't move back. And, at least in my mind, that counts for something.
So welcome to a Cornucopia of Random Crap.
We hope you'll enjoy your stay.
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