The Scion is in my possession. We went and met Bob at the title place, which worked out in my favor as it meant I could register the beast and get a plate for it. All I have to do now is insure it and switch over my drivers license. I've never had anything but a MA license. This feels like a milestone but I think we all know it's just another way to stay in favor with the law.
Mr. F asked if he could drive it home and I agreed after getting over the absurdity of the question (and realizing I would be driving it every single day). There was an ice cream cone in my hand while I mulled it over and I truly believe that was a huge help. If you want me to say yes to something, ask the question after placing an ice cream cone in my hand. It's amazing how accepting, friendly and outgoing my mind becomes when paired up with cold sugary ice cream. If you want an automatic yes, use the buddy system: put it in a waffle cone and make it Oreo flavor. Anyway, we're heading home and he decides he's done and pulls over. So I jumped in and let me tell you, this thing is zippy! There is some air intake thing the previous owner had put in it and whatever it does, it's working! This is a fun little vehicle. I got it home Friday night and I haven't driven it since due to becoming sick. At least this time it's physical. I also have to find something to protect the seats while waiting for my seat covers. Jim, Tab & I are something like a vehicle interior wrecking crew. Them with the drool and hair and me with my accident prone behavior and need to always have something edible or flammable while driving. So the first thing I now do when I get a new vehicle is protect everything. You should see the Dodge when the floor mats and seat covers are removed and it's had a good vacuum. You'd think someone neat and tidy owned it the whole time. Ode to rubber backed seat protectors!! The most exciting part of this is that I found rear and front covers that not only match but were about $40 all said and done. VALUE! The mats are proving a little harder to find in that price range. I want rubber. Carpet just comes across as some radical challenge we are willing to undertake with relentless abandon. So the search is on. I'm not worried, I'm resourceful. The seat covers kind of prove that.
The other part needed is a cruise control kit. It surprises me that Scion never put that in. I found it and it's on my to do list for today. Mr. F can put it in (and save me some dough) thank goodness. Handy people rule.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
OMFG
I have this nifty pair of swimming goggles. I so want to rock them around town. You know, show up at work wearing them, go grocery shopping in them. The likes. I have been taking them to the pool with me so I don't have to worry about dry sore eyes once home. Remember how I said I was going to the pool today? I did. I jumped on in, trusty goggles sucked onto my eye sockets and started to check out the bottom of the pool. I found the largest bug in there the other day. Large and strange. And dead. Precisely how I like large strange bugs. Especially when they are from the desert. This place is stock full of venomous creatures.
Anyway... I am swimming about looking for dead things and just generally having a good time and that's when I spot it. I automatically think "get the fuck out of here" and go up for air. Why do you find the most interesting things just as you run out of air? I go back under and my eyes had not lied. There, floating at the bottom of the pool was a very small Mediterranean House Gecko... sans tail. Same size, same tail broken off in the same place. I called Mr. F over to take a look. He of course had to to do the boy thing and bring him to the surface. We are almost 100% certain we found the bloated remains of M.D.
Insult to injury: Just as I was lamenting the entire affair, Mr. F's brother throws the squeak toy in the water and Tabitha goes barreling across the cement for it. This amounted to her trampling M.D. and mashing him into her foot, thus taking him back to his watery grave in mushy pieces.
Needless to say, I am back inside.
Anyway... I am swimming about looking for dead things and just generally having a good time and that's when I spot it. I automatically think "get the fuck out of here" and go up for air. Why do you find the most interesting things just as you run out of air? I go back under and my eyes had not lied. There, floating at the bottom of the pool was a very small Mediterranean House Gecko... sans tail. Same size, same tail broken off in the same place. I called Mr. F over to take a look. He of course had to to do the boy thing and bring him to the surface. We are almost 100% certain we found the bloated remains of M.D.
Insult to injury: Just as I was lamenting the entire affair, Mr. F's brother throws the squeak toy in the water and Tabitha goes barreling across the cement for it. This amounted to her trampling M.D. and mashing him into her foot, thus taking him back to his watery grave in mushy pieces.
Needless to say, I am back inside.
Impatience is a virtue
So there I was, all excited and waiting on the edge of my seat for Bob to call and let me know I could head on over to his side of town and pick up the Scion. Since I have now called him three times and can't take how tired his voice gets as soon as he realizes it's me, I had Mr. F call and enquire. The clean title isn't back from the dealership yet. See, Jayson still owed the dealership for his little Joy Box, so the title has a lien on it. Bob thought he was simply going to sign the title over to me with the lien on it, but we'd all know it was free and clear. You wish Bob. So it ended up, his wife expressed the payment to the company and they were supposed to express back the free and clear title and had everything gone as planned, it would have been back by Wednesday. It's Thursday. Toyota has yet one more black mark on their record. Ever since dealing with two Toyota dealership, I have nothing but contempt for them. Bad across the board. Whether or not your cars have a fierce reputation for quality and reliability, you should still be ready to offer decent customer service. Toyota salesmen are the most incompetent bunch. They all stand around and act like every serious buyer who enters their dealership domain should automatically get on their knees and bury their car needing face in their (sad ineffective) crotch area. Ah me.
Fabulous news!!! All of the kittens went home. What a HUGE relief. Two of the vet technicians I work with decided to keep the last two black ones. They have since been named Joplin and Hendrix. I'm not getting into it because I have nothing but gratitude for everyone's help concerning the feral felines. I am considering making a tiny concert stage along with two tiny guitars just to see what these animals are made of. The woman who adopted Lily and Lulu is very happy with her two new friends and calls everyday with updates on how they are. I'm grateful but also glad I am not reception.
I have a plan. It's a master. I'm not telling you what it is yet because it's not complete or even in the works, but I am jumping out of my skin over it, so I need to release that much of it at the very least. The future is looking madly promising. Ever since I took off those size 5 shoes, I have been able to think way more clearly. Maybe I should stop wearing my shoes on my head.
It's turn off your phone night, so we are going swimming. Pool time!
Fabulous news!!! All of the kittens went home. What a HUGE relief. Two of the vet technicians I work with decided to keep the last two black ones. They have since been named Joplin and Hendrix. I'm not getting into it because I have nothing but gratitude for everyone's help concerning the feral felines. I am considering making a tiny concert stage along with two tiny guitars just to see what these animals are made of. The woman who adopted Lily and Lulu is very happy with her two new friends and calls everyday with updates on how they are. I'm grateful but also glad I am not reception.
I have a plan. It's a master. I'm not telling you what it is yet because it's not complete or even in the works, but I am jumping out of my skin over it, so I need to release that much of it at the very least. The future is looking madly promising. Ever since I took off those size 5 shoes, I have been able to think way more clearly. Maybe I should stop wearing my shoes on my head.
It's turn off your phone night, so we are going swimming. Pool time!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Explaining is our friend
Yesterday was a literary purge full of freshness and positive energy. Swear. My eyes have opened a little wider so to speak and it's restoring lost balance.
I'm not worried about relating in the slightest. When I do relate to someone, it's surprisingly satisfactory, but I don't go dredging about in the sludge looking for connection. On the same note, I am no longer left wanting when a connection shorts out. I sort of expect it now and it always happily reminds me of the fabulous book, latest craft or dog who always loves a walk I have waiting for me at home. I see what is out there and the dynamics lose their luster more and more every day. I refuse to use the word "drama". It's been pushed and pulled into a meaning that to closely resembles what the word "ignorant" has become. They are overused and flaccid. The way most people conduct themselves through their "meaningful" relationships is lacking in sincerity, respect and esteem. People are relying on others to provide self worth and direction. It's sick. I'm not catching that bug.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I am extremely pleased with the friends I have picked up along the way and the qualities they exert always impress me. They're a wonderful reminder that integral beings do in fact exist.. The silver lining if you will.
I didn't mean to give the wrong impression. I'm very pleased with the way I am. I am going to continue searching for the shoes that fit. Until then, I am going to remain barefoot, while rarely compromising or behaving in a selfless manner. If people don't like that, it's fine. They don't have to. If they don't want to (or cannot) join me wherever I end up, that's okay too. It's nice to be back. JH#1
On a sunnier note, M.D. has been freed. I put him in the backyard where small bugs are abundant at night. I wish I could find him a tiny lazy-boy and television, so he could have somewhere to kick back and digest comfortably after a night of hunting. There is nothing better than being fat and happy surrounded by cushion and entertainment. It felt good to see him running as fast as he could towards the provided safety of our retaining walls.
Provided all goes as planned, I pick up the panther lined Scion tomorrow. I'm pumped. I might even have a buyer for the Durango. As much as it takes way to much gas, I am going to miss that truck. It served me well. If you can, drive one and you'll see why I like it so much. Change is good though, especially when it helps the wallet, no?
Speaking of saving the wallet, I am also going to add "not dealing with people" to that list. I ordered groceries online this evening. Mr. F & I were attempting to outsmart one another on the subject of staying home and cooking rather than going grocery shopping. I don't even like to cook lately so I took a step back and grabbed the trusty old laptop. Not only did we shop for a lot less time than usual and save money (I am an impulse buyer), but we also didn't lift a thing (fingers on keyboards don't count as work). It will all be delivered between one and three tomorrow. That is the perfect amount of time to cuddle up with a book. I also get to feel productive while reading it because I am after all, waiting for our supper. If this is as smooth running as it seems, it's going to be a constant. Thank you World Wide Web. Thank you for sparing me of yet one more necessary but usually torturous event.
I'm not worried about relating in the slightest. When I do relate to someone, it's surprisingly satisfactory, but I don't go dredging about in the sludge looking for connection. On the same note, I am no longer left wanting when a connection shorts out. I sort of expect it now and it always happily reminds me of the fabulous book, latest craft or dog who always loves a walk I have waiting for me at home. I see what is out there and the dynamics lose their luster more and more every day. I refuse to use the word "drama". It's been pushed and pulled into a meaning that to closely resembles what the word "ignorant" has become. They are overused and flaccid. The way most people conduct themselves through their "meaningful" relationships is lacking in sincerity, respect and esteem. People are relying on others to provide self worth and direction. It's sick. I'm not catching that bug.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I am extremely pleased with the friends I have picked up along the way and the qualities they exert always impress me. They're a wonderful reminder that integral beings do in fact exist.. The silver lining if you will.
I didn't mean to give the wrong impression. I'm very pleased with the way I am. I am going to continue searching for the shoes that fit. Until then, I am going to remain barefoot, while rarely compromising or behaving in a selfless manner. If people don't like that, it's fine. They don't have to. If they don't want to (or cannot) join me wherever I end up, that's okay too. It's nice to be back. JH#1
On a sunnier note, M.D. has been freed. I put him in the backyard where small bugs are abundant at night. I wish I could find him a tiny lazy-boy and television, so he could have somewhere to kick back and digest comfortably after a night of hunting. There is nothing better than being fat and happy surrounded by cushion and entertainment. It felt good to see him running as fast as he could towards the provided safety of our retaining walls.
Provided all goes as planned, I pick up the panther lined Scion tomorrow. I'm pumped. I might even have a buyer for the Durango. As much as it takes way to much gas, I am going to miss that truck. It served me well. If you can, drive one and you'll see why I like it so much. Change is good though, especially when it helps the wallet, no?
Speaking of saving the wallet, I am also going to add "not dealing with people" to that list. I ordered groceries online this evening. Mr. F & I were attempting to outsmart one another on the subject of staying home and cooking rather than going grocery shopping. I don't even like to cook lately so I took a step back and grabbed the trusty old laptop. Not only did we shop for a lot less time than usual and save money (I am an impulse buyer), but we also didn't lift a thing (fingers on keyboards don't count as work). It will all be delivered between one and three tomorrow. That is the perfect amount of time to cuddle up with a book. I also get to feel productive while reading it because I am after all, waiting for our supper. If this is as smooth running as it seems, it's going to be a constant. Thank you World Wide Web. Thank you for sparing me of yet one more necessary but usually torturous event.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Skip the walk. These boots weren't even made for you.
Mr. F and I engaged in a little pillow talk last night before heading off to slumber land and as always it continued to infect my mind into this day. The conversation has supplied me with one of those SMASH BOOM quiet on the green moments where the whole world goes hush and I am left standing there, my mouth in a gaped and rather imbecilic shape, while I attempt to take in what has been placed before me, by me. My brain is sly. Out foxing the fox is extremely hard, especially when you are the fox.
As you all ready know, I am not a morning person. I'm probably not even an early afternoon person. Every day I wake up, squeeze my eyes shut, and my immediate thought is "Not again. Is there no end?". Most people take that as some kind of depression and think I should be up on Ward D under close supervision lest I try to hurt myself. This is not the case, nor has it ever been, and it irks me to that I might be categorized as some cowardly creature hell bent on ending something this bizarre, ruining all the people who have affection for me, when continuing on will provide me with so much more... just more. Besides, to mar this fabulous body, or disrespect perfectly good toxins seems a shame don't you think?
I have come to grips with the fact that I am incredibly selfish. And arrogant. The touch of self-righteousness is a bit annoying, I'm the first to admit it. I might seem bitter but I prefer to label it "conscious". I often stare at myself hard in the mirror trying to will myself to feel anything but acceptance and self forgiveness. It never works. I don't know why it would. I love arrogance and selfishness. I am especially fond of them when they are backed up by forwardness and honesty. Do not misconstrue this with malicious intent.
My prophet and I were talking once. I was ranting and he was laughing. I didn't understand why I had a hard time relating to people, why I couldn't just lower my shields and weapons and be assimilated. Why I couldn't just behave for once in my life like a normal, cooperative person. He told me that everyone is born with a rule book and they follow it. I threw my rule book out and with that action, relating became impossible. Maybe he's right. Though I do know that Diplomacy and I have never seen eye to eye since the break up.
What the fuck are we doing and why are we doing it? We all walk about on lost feet staring through blind eyes like sacrificial lambs when all we are truly doing is slaughtering our own spirits in the name of expectation. From ourselves, from others, it really doesn't matter where the bullet is coming from if it's heading straight for you. Then again, I might be the only one feeling like this...
I feel like I have spent my whole life waking up and mashing my feet into a size 5 shoe when I wear a size 8 1/2. They don't fit. They never fucking fit. But day after day I put them on and am surprised to find that once again they are not comfortable. When my soul finally screams itself out of this skin, I will be supremely happy.
Everyone keeps telling me I cannot run from my problems. Like hell I can't. Who the fuck decided you had to see all your problems to the bitter end? And why wasn't I there to punch them in the mouth as soon as that ill advised bit of information came out of their ignorant face hole? I'll take on just about anything, but if I don't see reward looming up at the end of the race, I figure why run towards it? Why is disengagement seen as complacency or weakness?
I'm going to plod on. I'm going to leave when I don't like the going ons. I am going to search until I find the shoes that fit. And then I'm going to smile and quite possibly dance about while making up one of those songs I sing when there is no one around to hear it.
I might resemble Tabitha pushing her puzzle treat ball around waiting for crunchy goodness to dispense, but that's fine with me. My treat ball is half full and I have all the time in the world.
As you all ready know, I am not a morning person. I'm probably not even an early afternoon person. Every day I wake up, squeeze my eyes shut, and my immediate thought is "Not again. Is there no end?". Most people take that as some kind of depression and think I should be up on Ward D under close supervision lest I try to hurt myself. This is not the case, nor has it ever been, and it irks me to that I might be categorized as some cowardly creature hell bent on ending something this bizarre, ruining all the people who have affection for me, when continuing on will provide me with so much more... just more. Besides, to mar this fabulous body, or disrespect perfectly good toxins seems a shame don't you think?
I have come to grips with the fact that I am incredibly selfish. And arrogant. The touch of self-righteousness is a bit annoying, I'm the first to admit it. I might seem bitter but I prefer to label it "conscious". I often stare at myself hard in the mirror trying to will myself to feel anything but acceptance and self forgiveness. It never works. I don't know why it would. I love arrogance and selfishness. I am especially fond of them when they are backed up by forwardness and honesty. Do not misconstrue this with malicious intent.
My prophet and I were talking once. I was ranting and he was laughing. I didn't understand why I had a hard time relating to people, why I couldn't just lower my shields and weapons and be assimilated. Why I couldn't just behave for once in my life like a normal, cooperative person. He told me that everyone is born with a rule book and they follow it. I threw my rule book out and with that action, relating became impossible. Maybe he's right. Though I do know that Diplomacy and I have never seen eye to eye since the break up.
What the fuck are we doing and why are we doing it? We all walk about on lost feet staring through blind eyes like sacrificial lambs when all we are truly doing is slaughtering our own spirits in the name of expectation. From ourselves, from others, it really doesn't matter where the bullet is coming from if it's heading straight for you. Then again, I might be the only one feeling like this...
I feel like I have spent my whole life waking up and mashing my feet into a size 5 shoe when I wear a size 8 1/2. They don't fit. They never fucking fit. But day after day I put them on and am surprised to find that once again they are not comfortable. When my soul finally screams itself out of this skin, I will be supremely happy.
Everyone keeps telling me I cannot run from my problems. Like hell I can't. Who the fuck decided you had to see all your problems to the bitter end? And why wasn't I there to punch them in the mouth as soon as that ill advised bit of information came out of their ignorant face hole? I'll take on just about anything, but if I don't see reward looming up at the end of the race, I figure why run towards it? Why is disengagement seen as complacency or weakness?
I'm going to plod on. I'm going to leave when I don't like the going ons. I am going to search until I find the shoes that fit. And then I'm going to smile and quite possibly dance about while making up one of those songs I sing when there is no one around to hear it.
I might resemble Tabitha pushing her puzzle treat ball around waiting for crunchy goodness to dispense, but that's fine with me. My treat ball is half full and I have all the time in the world.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Your discomfort is my reality
My thoughtless natter is catching up with me as of late and I thought I would share. The simple fact that I am sharing should have you all over this entry...
I groomed one of my favorite dogs yesterday. A huge German Shepherd named Princess. She was a filthy, matted mess. It took three baths, conditioner and a ton of actual grooming time once she was dry. "Was" is going to be the key word. I could have charged more, but as her owner is a regular customer, I wasn't to worried about it. I get to work this morning, change and while heading to my grooming area I am informed that Princess died of bloat shortly after going home. My response was, "Oh my god. Seriously? All that work for nothing?". I will not remind you that I work at an animal hospital. The silence that permeated the room was deafening. I did the correct thing and acted ashamed of myself while making the appropriate downcast face and someone's pet died and that's sad noises, but in hindsight, I should have charged way more.
Moving on! I found a Scion xB and I am getting it on Wednesday! WOOOHOOOO! It's pretty bad ass. Here's the picture that was posted on CL.
The most awesome detail of this little truck, though there are many to choose from, is the black, faux fur roof, sun visor & hatch lining. It's like riding around surrounded by a fake panther.
While we were looking at the truck (read: while Mr. F made sure it was actually a sound vehicle and I stood there swooning over the aesthetic aspects) I happened to notice the back hatch has a small airbrushed "toy box" detail on it and that the license plate reads JAYSBOX (Jayson has been deployed and no longer needs his toy box). Again, my mouth stormed the comfort castle by proclaiming, "Hey, look! All you have to do is change one letter and it says JOYSBOX! I am so doing that!". Mr. F looked up at me and gave me the are you kidding is that supposed to be a joke face (I get that one a lot because, as I have been told repeatedly, I look and sound the exact same regardless of whether I am kidding or not) and the poor man showing the truck became super quiet, shifted about a bit and diverted all eye contact. Joy's box indeed. As much as I acted sheepish and played it off all oops, can you believe I just said that, how lewd, silly me nervous laughter and all, I think it's a riot and might just go for it.
1/3 is the saddest fraction of all, especially when it's missing. The phoenix worms and fruit flies showed up yesterday! Lucky for them Mr. F was handed the box o bugs right as he was leaving the house and thus became a creepy-crawly type of hero. Nothing quite like sitting in a shipping box (not joy's box mind you) until you die of heat exposure. Or so I assume. As M.D. is a nocturnal being, I waited until the sun was down and then picked some yummy maggots out of their substrate for him to dine upon. I then thought I would help the little guy out by showing him where dinner was being served. He was clinging onto a rock, so I moved him and the rock over to the side where the worms were. He of course lost it, tried to jump off the rock just as it was moving by a plant, got stuck and immediately dropped his tail. My prey drive kicked in and I forget all about him as I chased his tail to and fro. After catching and ingesting his tail... just kidding. I felt horrid. I've made some picketing signs that read FREE M.D.!! and I have been marching out front of the condo whenever I get the chance singing liberation songs. When Mr. F if even so much as walks by a window I curse at him for being a kidnapping bastard. Okay, that is also a fabrication, but this has made me realize that as much as I might want to stare M.D. down every night, I should just get over it and let him go. Besides, he's awfully boring. I'll just sell the tank and bugs on CL and be done with it. It was fun while it lasted.
I groomed one of my favorite dogs yesterday. A huge German Shepherd named Princess. She was a filthy, matted mess. It took three baths, conditioner and a ton of actual grooming time once she was dry. "Was" is going to be the key word. I could have charged more, but as her owner is a regular customer, I wasn't to worried about it. I get to work this morning, change and while heading to my grooming area I am informed that Princess died of bloat shortly after going home. My response was, "Oh my god. Seriously? All that work for nothing?". I will not remind you that I work at an animal hospital. The silence that permeated the room was deafening. I did the correct thing and acted ashamed of myself while making the appropriate downcast face and someone's pet died and that's sad noises, but in hindsight, I should have charged way more.
Moving on! I found a Scion xB and I am getting it on Wednesday! WOOOHOOOO! It's pretty bad ass. Here's the picture that was posted on CL.
The most awesome detail of this little truck, though there are many to choose from, is the black, faux fur roof, sun visor & hatch lining. It's like riding around surrounded by a fake panther.
While we were looking at the truck (read: while Mr. F made sure it was actually a sound vehicle and I stood there swooning over the aesthetic aspects) I happened to notice the back hatch has a small airbrushed "toy box" detail on it and that the license plate reads JAYSBOX (Jayson has been deployed and no longer needs his toy box). Again, my mouth stormed the comfort castle by proclaiming, "Hey, look! All you have to do is change one letter and it says JOYSBOX! I am so doing that!". Mr. F looked up at me and gave me the are you kidding is that supposed to be a joke face (I get that one a lot because, as I have been told repeatedly, I look and sound the exact same regardless of whether I am kidding or not) and the poor man showing the truck became super quiet, shifted about a bit and diverted all eye contact. Joy's box indeed. As much as I acted sheepish and played it off all oops, can you believe I just said that, how lewd, silly me nervous laughter and all, I think it's a riot and might just go for it.
1/3 is the saddest fraction of all, especially when it's missing. The phoenix worms and fruit flies showed up yesterday! Lucky for them Mr. F was handed the box o bugs right as he was leaving the house and thus became a creepy-crawly type of hero. Nothing quite like sitting in a shipping box (not joy's box mind you) until you die of heat exposure. Or so I assume. As M.D. is a nocturnal being, I waited until the sun was down and then picked some yummy maggots out of their substrate for him to dine upon. I then thought I would help the little guy out by showing him where dinner was being served. He was clinging onto a rock, so I moved him and the rock over to the side where the worms were. He of course lost it, tried to jump off the rock just as it was moving by a plant, got stuck and immediately dropped his tail. My prey drive kicked in and I forget all about him as I chased his tail to and fro. After catching and ingesting his tail... just kidding. I felt horrid. I've made some picketing signs that read FREE M.D.!! and I have been marching out front of the condo whenever I get the chance singing liberation songs. When Mr. F if even so much as walks by a window I curse at him for being a kidnapping bastard. Okay, that is also a fabrication, but this has made me realize that as much as I might want to stare M.D. down every night, I should just get over it and let him go. Besides, he's awfully boring. I'll just sell the tank and bugs on CL and be done with it. It was fun while it lasted.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I'm sure you expect nothing less...
All I can think while watching these is: Who the hell is giving these dogs their hair cuts and did the owners actually pay for them? Oh the horror.
As a dog enthusiast through and through, the following bums me out. People are disgusting. It doesn't come as a surprise. It also doesn't shock me that other species are paying the price for human ignorance. Haven't they always? I love how the judge doesn't actually say the show dogs can do the job better he simply says they must look a certain way to be shown. The AKC should be mortified when considering what it has become. Those Shepherds are an embarrassment and anyone who would need a dog for work wouldn't touch them. Just fucking gross. Never mind culling the dogs, we should cull irresponsible breeders. Now that would be something worth while. The people that keep these animals up are also in question in my mind. When quality of life is at stake, we should be able to look beyond our own needs and wants. Myopia reigns supreme. But then again, were we capable of doing that, we wouldn't have all these dogs to begin with. And the circle goes on oblivious to thoughts and emotions.
Here's a happy reminder that we are in fact on Planet Moron. With that knowledge I personally am able to forge ahead a little easier. You go ahead and have a look see. I'm going to go dress my dogs up and stare at the gecko trapped in a glass enclosure. YES!
Pedigree Dogs Exposed
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of the book I read about Eugenics. War of something? Damn. Got it! War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America's Campaign to Create a Master Race by Edwin Black. Disturbing to say the least but truly eye opening. I used to work with a retarded girl who was the offspring of one of the "breeders' in the program who helped prove that retardation is in fact genetic. I am still baffled. Look it up some time, it will blow your mind.
As a dog enthusiast through and through, the following bums me out. People are disgusting. It doesn't come as a surprise. It also doesn't shock me that other species are paying the price for human ignorance. Haven't they always? I love how the judge doesn't actually say the show dogs can do the job better he simply says they must look a certain way to be shown. The AKC should be mortified when considering what it has become. Those Shepherds are an embarrassment and anyone who would need a dog for work wouldn't touch them. Just fucking gross. Never mind culling the dogs, we should cull irresponsible breeders. Now that would be something worth while. The people that keep these animals up are also in question in my mind. When quality of life is at stake, we should be able to look beyond our own needs and wants. Myopia reigns supreme. But then again, were we capable of doing that, we wouldn't have all these dogs to begin with. And the circle goes on oblivious to thoughts and emotions.
Here's a happy reminder that we are in fact on Planet Moron. With that knowledge I personally am able to forge ahead a little easier. You go ahead and have a look see. I'm going to go dress my dogs up and stare at the gecko trapped in a glass enclosure. YES!
Pedigree Dogs Exposed
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
For the life of me, I cannot remember the name of the book I read about Eugenics. War of something? Damn. Got it! War Against the Weak: Eugenics and America's Campaign to Create a Master Race by Edwin Black. Disturbing to say the least but truly eye opening. I used to work with a retarded girl who was the offspring of one of the "breeders' in the program who helped prove that retardation is in fact genetic. I am still baffled. Look it up some time, it will blow your mind.
I can't decide if I should be more decisive
I should have blogged by now. Someone who should probably win "giver of the year" award offered to actually make me a keyboard. Isn't that just wholesome goodness right there? I am using a PC keyboard and as much as it's fully functional, I hate it. Although blogging is not something to be loathed, I am willing to put an emotionally nasty spike in this blog, as it has come to my attention I am choking on the massive bitter pill I have swallowed. This is the main reason I haven't blogged. I begin and it slowly becomes a vortex of negative energy that is sure to consume everything positive. So, if this comes across as one huge bitch rant, I don't care. You were warned and plodded forth in total disregard.
I bought a new keyboard from ebay. It's the wrong one. After all the questions and such, it's the wrong fucking board. I'm getting another that does in fact fit. Soon. Once I am over my little stubborn I hate getting things that don't fit snit. Bear with me or ask for my address so you can send it to me after MAKING IT. Yeah, I'm talking to you. :D
I am in the process of planning my road trip. This means acquiring a new vehicle which won't chew a huge hole in my pocket every time I hit the pumps. I don't want to hear about gas prices and the impracticality of planning a road trip. I don't care. I am going to figure out where else there is to live besides a fucking blast furnace. Don't remind me that I did it to myself. If I could, I would kick myself in the stomach daily. :F I like Scions. The xB model rules. I found one, made an offer, decided against it and I am back on the search. I am finding it impossible to deal with the price of a used vehicle that looks like a toaster. However. I have researched the SHIT out of a million cars. Scion xB's fit my needs perfectly and are bad ass. So I am getting one. I'm just going to have to get over the price. Once I have one in my grubby little hands, it will be a lot easier to accept.
Mutter has been sprung loose to continue her days as an uninhibited wild, albeit sterile, animal. There is something about that which warms my heart and soul. If I could just find someone willing to cut my woman parts out for under $100 I would even be willing to sacrifice the top third of my left ear. I'm. Not. Kidding. The kittens? They are all fixed and waiting for new homes. As much as I don't want to get into the story, I'll summarize: Everyone was trapped and waiting for the big (envious) snip. The plan (which had been gone over thoroughly and agreed to about a million times) was in motion. A massive, incredibly frustrating, not to mention DENSE stumbling block appeared in the path. Back under the porch was not an option. I'm not worried about finding them homes as much as I am worried about my unending urge to help people with their issues as it usually ends up being MY issue. I'm learning. Slowly and painfully. Two of the kittens are spoken for. This leaves two left. I don't know many people who can resist a kitten. Their cuteness takes care of about 50% of the problem. No matter how much I want to, I cannot hate them for that one reason.
Jimmy is swimming. For those of you who know Jim, this is nothing short of the resurrection. We practiced and practiced and I finally got him in on his own by squishing an empty clear wide mouthed plastic bottle, filling it with treats and throwing it into the water. Will swim for food. Awesome. There are people telling me I shouldn't have to feed him for swimming and he should simply do it. To all those people, here is what I have to say: Fuck you. Fuck you in the most ghastly way your imagination can conjure up. If I have to give him a treat every single time he goes into the water until the day he dies, I will do it with a smile on my face. 1. Without the usual hours of walking every day, he is getting old and withdrawn fast and I can't take it. Yes, we walk early in the morning, but it simply isn't enough. 2. Who the fuck cares what anyone thinks about my relationship with the James. Especially when it has a chiding undertone. Take your audacity and use it where it counts. That would be anywhere but here. 3. Jimmy swimming? Come on, you can't beat that. Just wild. 4. Show me what you have accomplished with your dog. Make it better than Jim. Then we might talk. If I am feeling up to it. So we probably won't.
Tabitha is also swimming. Like a champ! We are thinking about training her for the Olympics. She's SUPER competitive, racing anyone who assumes they can take her. They usually can't. When a person proves to be especially slow, she actually gives them a head start. Good sports rule. She does a Superman right off the edge. It's fantastic to watch. This is the same puppy who used to hide behind the bushes and shudder any time she so much as thought she heard the water splash. The same puppy who would rather run into moving traffic than walk across a wet (not a puddle, simply wet) segment of cement. It makes me want to pump my clenched fist in the air and yell something like GIRL POWER. But I don't want to come across as some bra burning, ultra feminist, neo-nazi so instead I scream things like GET THAT! and YAY! with about the same affect.
Mr. F and I are fine. WE are fine. I am decidedly not. I can't take living here any more. It only took 4 months of being inside to make me snap. I am climbing the walls and gnawing on my own extremities in hopes to cure my need for outdoor stimulation. I have to make a decision and I am stuck because for once in my life I feel true affection for someone. It's interesting (and a slight mocking undertone if you will) that I am in the exact opposite position of where I usually look at the outside world from. The irony has not escaped me. He is stuck with a completely insane girlfriend. I'm hoping the trip helps. I don't know how it couldn't so I am white knuckling the thought of it and it is continuing to keep that one shred of sanity I have left in place. Go sanity.
Mr. F caught a Mediterranean House Gecko that looks exactly like this (size and all, how cute is that?!) while cleaning the carpets, and made the mistake of showing me. As I am now looking for ANYTHING to do, I stuck it in a tank and I am keeping myself busy by caring for and observing it. It's fun and allows me to cultivate bugs. We all know how much I enjoy a fruit fly culture. It's the gift that keeps giving! Have you ever watched a mealworm pupate and then morph into a beetle? No? Try it, it's bizarre and totally worth the time. I might even blog it. Seeing the futility of trying to convince me to let him go (and probably noticing the grim dead pan stare of a captive replaced with a look of impish interest), Mr. F offered up the name M.D.. It has nothing to do with his medical degree. Once I am done looking at him (read: once the trip is planned and about to be executed) I will let him get back to being his intrusive non native but highly adaptable self back in the (not so) great outdoors. Until then, he's going to be stuck too. I like relating, I have been told it's healthy. Besides, he'll understand just how rad getting free food and high humidity is once released. But alas, it will be to late. *sigh* It's the old we never know what we have until it's gone trick. Gecko style. Maybe he can go sell car insurance or something.
I bought a new keyboard from ebay. It's the wrong one. After all the questions and such, it's the wrong fucking board. I'm getting another that does in fact fit. Soon. Once I am over my little stubborn I hate getting things that don't fit snit. Bear with me or ask for my address so you can send it to me after MAKING IT. Yeah, I'm talking to you. :D
I am in the process of planning my road trip. This means acquiring a new vehicle which won't chew a huge hole in my pocket every time I hit the pumps. I don't want to hear about gas prices and the impracticality of planning a road trip. I don't care. I am going to figure out where else there is to live besides a fucking blast furnace. Don't remind me that I did it to myself. If I could, I would kick myself in the stomach daily. :F I like Scions. The xB model rules. I found one, made an offer, decided against it and I am back on the search. I am finding it impossible to deal with the price of a used vehicle that looks like a toaster. However. I have researched the SHIT out of a million cars. Scion xB's fit my needs perfectly and are bad ass. So I am getting one. I'm just going to have to get over the price. Once I have one in my grubby little hands, it will be a lot easier to accept.
Mutter has been sprung loose to continue her days as an uninhibited wild, albeit sterile, animal. There is something about that which warms my heart and soul. If I could just find someone willing to cut my woman parts out for under $100 I would even be willing to sacrifice the top third of my left ear. I'm. Not. Kidding. The kittens? They are all fixed and waiting for new homes. As much as I don't want to get into the story, I'll summarize: Everyone was trapped and waiting for the big (envious) snip. The plan (which had been gone over thoroughly and agreed to about a million times) was in motion. A massive, incredibly frustrating, not to mention DENSE stumbling block appeared in the path. Back under the porch was not an option. I'm not worried about finding them homes as much as I am worried about my unending urge to help people with their issues as it usually ends up being MY issue. I'm learning. Slowly and painfully. Two of the kittens are spoken for. This leaves two left. I don't know many people who can resist a kitten. Their cuteness takes care of about 50% of the problem. No matter how much I want to, I cannot hate them for that one reason.
Jimmy is swimming. For those of you who know Jim, this is nothing short of the resurrection. We practiced and practiced and I finally got him in on his own by squishing an empty clear wide mouthed plastic bottle, filling it with treats and throwing it into the water. Will swim for food. Awesome. There are people telling me I shouldn't have to feed him for swimming and he should simply do it. To all those people, here is what I have to say: Fuck you. Fuck you in the most ghastly way your imagination can conjure up. If I have to give him a treat every single time he goes into the water until the day he dies, I will do it with a smile on my face. 1. Without the usual hours of walking every day, he is getting old and withdrawn fast and I can't take it. Yes, we walk early in the morning, but it simply isn't enough. 2. Who the fuck cares what anyone thinks about my relationship with the James. Especially when it has a chiding undertone. Take your audacity and use it where it counts. That would be anywhere but here. 3. Jimmy swimming? Come on, you can't beat that. Just wild. 4. Show me what you have accomplished with your dog. Make it better than Jim. Then we might talk. If I am feeling up to it. So we probably won't.
Tabitha is also swimming. Like a champ! We are thinking about training her for the Olympics. She's SUPER competitive, racing anyone who assumes they can take her. They usually can't. When a person proves to be especially slow, she actually gives them a head start. Good sports rule. She does a Superman right off the edge. It's fantastic to watch. This is the same puppy who used to hide behind the bushes and shudder any time she so much as thought she heard the water splash. The same puppy who would rather run into moving traffic than walk across a wet (not a puddle, simply wet) segment of cement. It makes me want to pump my clenched fist in the air and yell something like GIRL POWER. But I don't want to come across as some bra burning, ultra feminist, neo-nazi so instead I scream things like GET THAT! and YAY! with about the same affect.
Mr. F and I are fine. WE are fine. I am decidedly not. I can't take living here any more. It only took 4 months of being inside to make me snap. I am climbing the walls and gnawing on my own extremities in hopes to cure my need for outdoor stimulation. I have to make a decision and I am stuck because for once in my life I feel true affection for someone. It's interesting (and a slight mocking undertone if you will) that I am in the exact opposite position of where I usually look at the outside world from. The irony has not escaped me. He is stuck with a completely insane girlfriend. I'm hoping the trip helps. I don't know how it couldn't so I am white knuckling the thought of it and it is continuing to keep that one shred of sanity I have left in place. Go sanity.
Mr. F caught a Mediterranean House Gecko that looks exactly like this (size and all, how cute is that?!) while cleaning the carpets, and made the mistake of showing me. As I am now looking for ANYTHING to do, I stuck it in a tank and I am keeping myself busy by caring for and observing it. It's fun and allows me to cultivate bugs. We all know how much I enjoy a fruit fly culture. It's the gift that keeps giving! Have you ever watched a mealworm pupate and then morph into a beetle? No? Try it, it's bizarre and totally worth the time. I might even blog it. Seeing the futility of trying to convince me to let him go (and probably noticing the grim dead pan stare of a captive replaced with a look of impish interest), Mr. F offered up the name M.D.. It has nothing to do with his medical degree. Once I am done looking at him (read: once the trip is planned and about to be executed) I will let him get back to being his intrusive non native but highly adaptable self back in the (not so) great outdoors. Until then, he's going to be stuck too. I like relating, I have been told it's healthy. Besides, he'll understand just how rad getting free food and high humidity is once released. But alas, it will be to late. *sigh* It's the old we never know what we have until it's gone trick. Gecko style. Maybe he can go sell car insurance or something.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
