Them: …….well…..we have chicken….
Me: Chicken is a meat.
Them: Oh. I didn’t know what kind of a vegetarian you were.
Me: Really? I’m the kind who doesn’t eat meat.
I shit you not, people. This has happened to me MORE than once since I quite eating land mammals at the beginning of August.
9give or take – Surprisingly, I didn’t time it or anything).
And I was highly unsuccessful.
Sometimes life is so unfair.
Once a dear friend gave this advice: “It should never take longer than 5 minutes to drop your load. If you take more than 5 minutes, it’s entirely too long. You need to wait until you KNOW you can complete your task in that amount of time.”
Is that even POSSIBLE??
On a lighter note, I’m going to have a Scentsy party. So if your house stinks (presumably you shit, even though obviously I don’t) hit me up and I can give you the link to place an order.
No pretty pictures today. I had to get a new computer and haven’t transferred any of my pictures over or taken any new ones for a while.
Especially if she’s in the process of changing her meds.
She might just go bat shit crazy and cut all her hair off.
Yep. All of it.
Well almost. It was down to the middle of my back. It is now well above my shoulders.
Fuck me.
I know the picture sucks, but that’s what you get with a phone camera.
It looks like I have lipstick all over my face. I don’t. And look at those eyebrows. That’s some scary shit and I’m sorry you had to see it. I mean, fuck, she should just go get them waxed. And yes, I’m sitting on my bed. I’m lazy. And tired. And I didn’t sleep last night, so if it looks to you like I’m trying to cover up crack-whore eyes, you’d be right.
She can open my bathroom cabinets – that don’t have handles – and pull shit out from under there. Like Q-tips, make-up, my flat iron.
She can take books directly off the shelf.
She can take my nail file, comb, and pills off of my bedside table.
She can go under my bedspread, which is under my pillows and get the charger for my computer out.
What’s even better is she loves to chew it all up.
If she were REALLY smart, she wouldn’t do that.
Damn dog is lucky she’s still alive after chewing various power cords that were still plugged in.
Anyway, I had to replace that laptop charger. You’d think for $90 fucking dollars that bitch would actually work. The charger, not the dog.
Nope. The first one quit working. The second one never worked. Third one, a charm?
Uh huh.
Anyway. I took the kids for a drive today. We just wanted to get out of the house and look for a place to walk or play for a while. We found a cute little park. It was a nice, long drive.
Fuck, I’m tired.
No tricks here. Or treats. My kids didn’t get to go this year.
I think I’ve mentioned before how my kids like to tear my house up on a daily basis. Which isn’t always horrible. Sometimes they just make a mess. Sometimes they REALLY get into shit they don’t belong in.
Either way, they had LOTS of chances to NOT be naughty, but kept on messing up. So I put the smack down and told them there would be no trick-or-treating this year.
It was probably harder on me, than on them. I LOVE trick-or-treating.
I have fond memories of my dad bringing us trick-or-treating. He was the master. Me and my brother and sister could easily fill up a brown paper grocery bag off candy. It was awesome.
My kids only go a couple blocks and start complaining that they want to go home.
We did make it to the pumpkin patch finally, but didn’t get around to carving the pumpkins yet. Hopefully tomorrow.
Sometimes, anyway.
I was supposed to go to a Halloween party tonight with the kids and the husband. Instead, I slept. I slept for the better part of 24 hours. Who does that?
Me. Sometimes, anyway.
One of my family members recently made a comment about how I don’t do anything, basically not understanding why I sleep so much during the day.
I don’t feel good. My body hurts. I’m tired. I keep getting these fucking migraines. I’ve had my “girl time” for the better part of 3 months now.
So yeah, I don’t do anything. I’m so tired of that though. I’m tired of letting myself and others down because I just don’t feel good enough to do things. It sucks. A big one.
So what do I do to change it? I’ve been out walking and taking pictures with the kids, sometimes with the husband, sometimes with the dogs. But honestly, that just makes me hurt more. I think that’s why I had this latest 24 hour siesta.
Fuck you fibromyalgia. Fuck you migraines. Fuck you girl parts.
I’m sick of this shit, and I’m going to get better. I’m going to get off of all these stupid fucking medications my doctor has me on. All though they generally do their job of keeping me alive, I think they make me feel worse, for the most part.
I got up before noon. And stayed up.
I got one or two things accomplished that needed to be done.
Kind of a bust though.
I wanted to go to a cemetery to take some pictures. My husband said hell no, it’s too creepy. I told him he was a sissy. And anyways, I’m the only one who believes in ghosts.
My second choice was to go to a pond in the City Park. He agreed to that one, but somehow missed the pond.
I brought my daughter to see one of my all-time favorite movies, The Lion King. She loved it, but at the end stood up and shouted Thank God that’s over. I’ve been sitting here for HOURS! I don’t know where she gets her drama from. Ahem.
I don’t think I’m funny any more. I keep having these motherfucking migraine headaches. They kill. I would like to crawl in a deep, dark hole, and not climb out for, ya know, ever.
I miss blogging though. A lot.
I miss the comments my readers would leave me. Sometimes sweet or supportive. Other times, just some funny shit that made me giggle so hard I would fart. And who doesn’t love a good fart?
So, I guess you’re all gonna get stuck reading the mundane, everyday shit my life really is. I will apologize in advance.
Yesterday I was feeling semi-okay, so I brought my brats and 3/4’s of my dogs to the Nature Center for a short walk. 6/7’s of us behaved badly. 1/7 of us felt like she wanted to beat the living shit out of the others, but her head was hurting to much to put forth the effort.
When I’m not pretending to be a writer, sometimes I like to pretend I’m a photographer. Oh boy. Doesn’t that sound grown up. Truth is, I like to take a shitload of pictures and hope for the best. Some of my friends/readers have already seen these. I’m sorry you have to suffer through them again.
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me when I ask for a large Mocha Frappuccino?
Do you mean Venti?
Bitch, you know what I mean.
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Have you heard of this site? You must have.
If not, let me tell you a little bit about it.
You can earn FREE gift cards from here. Like from Amazon, Paypal, Jamba Juice, Home Depot, Walmart, and many others.
Fucking awesome right?
You know it is.
So, how do you sign up and WIN?
Want more? I know you do. You’re gonna get hooked on this bitch.
Want even more? Don’t kid yourself. You know you do.
Okay. Soooo, how do you maximize your winnings?
Now, if you’re really hard-core, do some offers. I don’t do these. I refuse to pay to earn money. That’s just not motherfucking like me. I’m cheap. And not like a prostitute cheap.
I just started this site about a month ago. I didn’t even try to get any referrals at first. I wanted to see what it was about. After about 3 weeks I had enough points for a $5 Paypal gift card. So then I got crazy. I signed up a few friends. The next 2 weeks I was able to cash out for another $10 in Paypal.
Soooooo……$15 in just less than a month, without even trying. I started really slow, but now things are going much, much faster. I LOVE this site! Sound too good to be true? Ask me for some screen shots. I’m too lazy to post them right now.
Bitches, I own this joint.
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but I’m going to this time.
I have been a member of some sites for a long time.
These sites will earn you Paypal or gift cards.
Even better, they’re fun.
#1 SuperPoints – The points add up pretty fast here. You can cash out for Paypal, Amazon, Jamba Juice, Home Depot, Walmart, and some other gift cards. I usually go for the Paypal option. I like money!! Now, this is an invite only site. I will list a couple codes. If the 1st code doesn’t work, try the next. If none of them work, let me know and I will send you a unique invite code. Made sure you verify your e-mail address and fill out your basic profile. You will get more clicks on the SuperLucky Button (I LOVE this button!!).
#2 Gather. If you like blogging, you’ll love this site. This is a very interactive community. You can post anything here. Articles showcasing your writing, about politics, daily life – whatever you want. You can also post videos and photos. I have been a member of this site since July of 2007. They have never failed to pay me. I’ve had numerous deposits to my PayPal.
#3 CrowdTap – This one is fun, easy, quick (that’s what she said). There are even opportunities to try and review new products. Old Navy works with them quite often. Recently they have had campaigns to try out Old Navy Jeans and the new flip flops they put out this summer.
#3 Varolo. Now this one is a little different. This one you watch short ads. Pretty much the same commercials you see on TV. They are 15 to 30 seconds and you get paid by the number of ads. They also have a weekly jackpot of $500! I know this one is open to international members. You do have to watch a short 2 minute video before you sign up. Just give it a try. If you don’t like it, no harm done.
So give it a shot. What do you have to lose? Not a fucking thing.
play the violin. I was all excited.
Then, he brought home a trumpet.
Not instead of, but in addition to.
Kill. Me. Now.
So, what do you write about on a day like this?
Is there anything that can be said or shared that is actually worthwhile?
I wanted to write a post about when I found out about 9/11.
But , fuck. What a waste. My life was touched. It will never be the same.
I know I am not alone in this.
My issue lies in the fact that there are so many more who lost so very much more than me on that awful day.
I lost a little bit of my sense of safety and well-being in this country. I live near Fort Carson, Schriever Air Force Base, 2 other Air Force bases, and NORAD. I was scared for a while, especially being so close to so many military installations. And NORAD.
But.
This is nothing.
Countless others lost their lives.
Even more lost loved ones. Husbands, wives, children, parents.
What I experienced was fleeting.
They will never be able to get back what they’ve lost.
I will always remember the moment I realized what was happening was real. I will never forget what I was doing or how it affected me.
But I want to put the spotlight on those who have been affected by this tragedy so much more than I.
I pray for you all. I pray for the ones who lost their lives. I pray for those who lived. For you. Your loved ones. For what you’ve lost. For what you may have gained since then.
I wish you nothing but the best.
Why?
Because I’m just not funny any longer.
Why?
Maybe I need a good old bi-polar high (yes, family, I’m bi-polar – deal with it.) to get me rolling again.
Bi-Polar: Not good for some, Fucking Fantastic for me.
I get all kinds of productive shit done when I’m on a high.
Like, for instance, blogging. And all those shitty Facebook games. And shopping at fucking 3 o’clock in the morning.
You know, the important things, one generally cannot live without.
Bitches, I read some of my old posts. And I’m like, who the fuck is this girl and what the fuck is she on. Not a question. A statement.
What’s even better is that I don’t remember writing half that shit.
At least I get a good laugh too.
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Rob Thomas tweeted to me.
That was a comment left on my blog. Now, I’m not sure if she meant it the way it sounds.
To me it sounds like I’m trying to pull a fast one.
I’m not.
Please.
One thing I will NOT do is lie.
If I wanted to do that I wouldn’t tell ya’ll things like:
Would you admit to any of that shit if you could lie your motherfucking ass off?
I didn’t think so.
Yes. Rob Thomas tweeted to me. He did say the fuck word.
If you can’t see where he tweeted. The word Fuck. To ME! I will plaster that shit on this post.
And I circle it in, bright, motherfucking red. Just to make sure.
And let it be known, I am not artistic or talented enough to be able to fake a screen shot.
If I could I totally make Tom Hanks tweet that he thought I was great last night.
Or I’d make Prince William tweet his undying love. To me.
And when I’m Queen of Motherfucking England, I will have all you unbelieving, cocksucking shits beheaded.
I’d also like to point out when I type in Motherfucking I don’t get that little, squiggly red line saying it’s misspelled.
Nice.
you let go of life.
The Vet got us a blanket. You laid right next to me, snuggled up, just like when we sleep at night or take a nap during the day.
I held you in my arms and whispered in your ear.
I felt your heart stop beating.
I’m sorry I had to be the one to make the decision.
I couldn’t stand to see you suffer any longer.
I hope you catch all the squirrels your little heart desires up there in Puppy Heaven.
I love you more than I can ever express.
Words are not enough.
Please forgive me.
to one of your best friends. To one who has been so faithful for his short life. Short for us, anyway.
I wrote in a previous post that our dog, Gruff, is dying. He has been in kidney failure for the last few months, at least.
We took him in for a routine dental cleaning, and found out about the kidney failure. His lab work at that time was in the "low" range. Meaning he was still in pretty good shape.
We changed his diet. He had to start eating some nasty "special" (aka: really fucking expensive) dog food. He would only eat the dry dog food if we put in the wet dog food too. Unbelievably, the canned dog food is over 2 bucks a can!!
Not the point. Money doesn't matter when you're trying to give a loved one the best quality of life during the rest of their limited time.
The 2nd time we brought him in to check labs, about a month later, one number went up, the other went down slightly. The number that went up brought him into the moderate range of kidney failure.
So we had to start giving him IV fluids under the scruff of his neck twice a week. Not as hard as it sounds, other than it sucked to have to poke that needle in knowing it had to hurt. And sometimes he had to be poked 3 or 4 times to get the required amount of fluid in.
One month later. His labs are now in the moderate-high range for both numbers.
So futile to do everything you're supposed to and the numbers just get worse and worse. And fast.
They just told us to prepare to say good-bye.
We have watched Gruff get progressively worse. Sometimes we were even able to see a huge decline day to day.
But he was still doing okay. Eating. Drinking. Every once in a while he would even get enough sprite to chase around our little Chihuahua/Jack Russell puppy around the back yard. Her name is Hua Hua (aka: The Rat).
But now. Now he won't even greet my husband when he gets home from work. He would always be waiting at the door. He would wait for Mike to come inside, then gently jump up and place his paws on Mike's shoulders. His way of giving a hug. I'm jealous to say that Gruff had a special bond with Mike. Not with me.
He hasn't even gotten off the bed in the last week and a half to two weeks to even stroll to the door to say hello when Mike got home from work.
Today Gruff started doing this tongue thing. He looked like Yoshi. Funny and freaky, all in one. We noticed he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Or even close his mouth to grab a piece of Mike's hot dog bun (apparently in our house, bread is a special delicacy for our dogs, only surpassed by a tasty tidbit of shit from the backyard).
He was able to eat some of his dinner, but can hardly drink water. Rather than try to syringe feed him water, for fear of choking him or having the water accidentally aspirate into his lungs, I gave him an extra IV tonight. He was so thirsty, but just couldn't get his damn tongue to lap up the water. And what little water did make it into his mouth wouldn't stay because he can't shut his mouth.
I did call our vet. Over the phone he said it sounded like it was a condition commonly referred to as "drop jaw." Doing some research, it looks like this can occur out of the blue, because of neurological problems, or trauma. I'm sure it has something to do with his kidney failure. It also looks like it can go away within a few days, weeks, or months.
This would be comforting news. Except. With what he is going through anyway, already looking emaciated and low on energy. And just dying from the toxins that aren't being flushed from his body by his kidneys.
Is it fair to keep him alive? Has he surpassed the stage of having any "quality of life?"
I think he has.
As much as it pains me, I think we will have to help our loyal friend cross over.
I don't know how I'm going to be able to do it.
What I know for sure, is that right now, I can barely breath.
I do.
It’s a bastard.
But here’s a picture to make you feel fucking better.
Not only will they write on your walls, they will ruin your best pieces of art.
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Try joining Swagbucks here. See if you like it. I think you will.
So, some of you (probably not many) may be wondering where I’ve been.
Let me say first, that I LOVE this blog. I love being able to say random shit. I love it when someone comments back and I know they got a little giggle out of something stupid I said.
Here’s the thing.
I have hurt throughout my entire body for almost as long as I can remember. I remember being 10 and complaining that my body hurt. I remember adults telling me that I was too young to be hurting.
Listen, bitches. I wouldn’t have said I was hurting, if I wasn’t.
I joined the army when I was 19. I remember being scared. Not of the Drill Sergeants, or of the new experience. I was totally stoked to be serving and honoring my country.
I was afraid that I would get in trouble because I was hurting so bad I couldn’t get out of bed. Or do push ups. Or whatever else was expected of me.
My pain became almost unbearable sometime last year. I kept going to the doctor, but nothing was done. I went over and over. I cried to my doctor. She wouldn’t listen for the longest time.
Finally she put me on Cymbalta. It helped. I felt great. I could move without wanting to cry. I could do the dishes and not have to lay on the couch the rest of the day and evening, not being able to do anything else.
Then about 3 months after I started it, it quit working.
So I went back to the doctor a few times. I cried. I pleaded. I begged.
So she upped my Cymbalta dose.
And I felt better. For about a month.
And then I went back to my doctor. I cried. I pleaded. I begged.
She put me on Lyrica.
After about a month of still having pain, and feeling like I was in a fog, not knowing if I was going to be able to continue taking Lyrica because I felt like I couldn’t function, the clouds parted.
I felt invincible. I could do the dishes. I could sweep and mop the floor. I could go to the park with my kids. I could go shopping.
Unfortunately, I had to wait to be able to receive the meds from the company who makes it. In the mean time, there were a few times my doctor’s office ran out of samples.
There have been so many days that I couldn’t force myself to roll out of bed until I had to pick my brats up from school. How many days were there that I couldn’t be bothered to brush my teeth or hair, let alone change out of my pajamas? Too many to count.
So there you have it. I haven’t been able to blog like I used to.
The med company has just started to send me the meds I need. I have great hopes that I will be able to continue to take Cymbalta and Lyrica and be able to function like a normal human being.
Lucky you. You might be able to get more of my witty, off the wall posts. Well, maybe not lucky you.
A couple months ago, we brought our older dog in to have his teeth cleaned. He just had yuckyish teeth. And a bit of a heart murmer. The vet wanted to get his teeth done just to make sure that his yuckyish teeth wouldn’t add to the heart murmur problem.
Totally routine.
But I had a bad feeling. Very bad. I just knew.
Just a little bit after I dropped Gruff off I got a phone call. It was the vet. I didn’t want to answer it, but I knew I had to.
His lab work was off.
He is in kidney failure.
What does this mean?
It means he is dying.
And yes, he is old. I know that. He’s 12 or 13. Hard to say. He was a rescue dog.
But to actually know he is in the dying process is heart-wrenching. Oh God, how it hurts.
We had to change his food to a low protein formula, and fuck is it expensive.
That didn’t help.
So now we get to poke a big,fat needle into the scruff of his neck twice a week and give him an I.V.
It’s not that hard, technically. I just hate to have to hurt him.
And basically all we are doing is prolonging his life. Hopefully making sure his quality of life as good as possible, for as long as possible.
What’s worse is that we don’t even know how long he has. He may live for a couple more months, or he may “crash and burn” in a couple of days.
What I ask of my fellow bloggy friends is to please pray for my pup.
Him, saying goodbye, while I’m still asleep: Happy Mother’s Day.
Me: Happy Birthday.
Him: It’s not my Birthday.
Me: Whatever.
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| Kaden |
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| You and Momma |
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| I look a little high here, but it's only because I cried so hard when I found out I missed your birth. |
is going out of business.
I mean, where the fuck am I going to get good coffee now??
touched my hand.
I feel so dirty.
And, no, that is not code for something you might be thinking you'd like to try.
Yes, I did wash my hands.
With antibacterial soap.
About 800 times.
so I can show you why you really should not run in the house.
Your parents were right.
Fuck.
(P.S. I just might send somebody something for helping me.)
since I've posted.
And I miss you guys.
A. Lot.
I don't know. I just sort of ran out of shit to say.
Or shit I thought you might actually want to hear.
I'll work on it.
Right after I clean up 4 fucking boxes of cake mix and 2 fucking pouches of cookie mix and about an inch of water off of every motherfucking surface in my kitchen.
I swear there is something majorly wrong with my kids
And is that how you spell 'majorly'? It's saying it's spelled wrong but won't give me any damn suggestions.
Oh well, you get the drift.
