my sh*t don't stank...

Some crazy, crazy person actually bought something off of my hysterectomy party list. Seriously. But who would do such a nutty thing? Someone who understands the bowels of suffering through graduate school while working full-time. Someone who's sniffer has snuffed the foul results of merry-making at the world's longest buffets. Someone who cares that the putrid smell I make while "going potty" brings tears to my eyes and chases my dear cats far, far away from my loving arms. Yes, Marcia. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. Oh. My Nose! It is adorned. Thank you for turning my bathroom into a bakery. I can't wait to poo again!

Help Honey get out of the kill shelter...

This is a cross-post...
"This is Honey. She is listed as a lab mix but as you can see she definitely is a pit mix. Petco wouldn't let them get her out at an adoptathon because she looked too much like a pit. She is young, less than a year, playful and very sweet. She is starting to get a little cage crazy. She has been at the shelter way too long and is in urgent need of either a foster or permanent home asap. She is on the urgent list. She is at the Dickson Tennessee Humane Society. It is a kill shelter. I will personally pay all expenses for her to be fully vetted, microchipped and will help with transportation to anyone who can help save this girl. Today is November 28th and the shelter is closed on Mon. and Tue. I am pulling another one from there this week so hopefully that will buy her a little time. I just know that she is at the top of the list when they fill up again. Please forward to anyone you think might can help this girl."

Laura Mucerino
Luvabull Foster & Rescue
Dickson, TN
615-426-8123

welcome to my hysterectomy party...

I'm hosting a going-away party for my uterus. I have been angry at my womb for years for making me so miserable. I planned my entire life around my uterus' condition du jour.

But maybe I should feel sorry for it. Maybe it didn't want to be lumpy and painful. It's been scoped, operated on, medicated and biopsied. Maybe I do feel a little bad just throwing it away.

But then again, maybe it needs to be "euthanized."

Or is that the same as snuffing out the disabled?

Maybe I should explain to my uterus that I appreciate the efforts, but it just didn't work out between us, that it won't have to work so hard now; that it deserves a rest. A permanent vacation.

I sketched out with my mouse a characterization of my poor, old lumpy uterus. You can see it quite plainly in the sidebar. I thought I would throw a farewell party to mark the end of its reign over my life.

So if you are madly rich, stupid or a little bit of both, you can click on my uterus and buy it a good-bye gift. If you're like me you can click and be amused by the long list of stuff you would never buy for a stranger.

In any case, an era is coming to a (stitched) close...

what is the word...

I got tagged like an animal for a weird little meme thanks to old Barry, old pal, old friend... hmmmph.
Here's the thing...
1. FLIP open a dictionary and point to a word.
2. Type the word into Google images.
3. PICK an image that strikes you.
4. Write a 10 line RIFF off the image.
5. Use the word or the meaning of the word at least once within the first 5 lines of your riff.
6. Tag 3 other bloggers on your list.


Like Barry, I bucked the system and wrote whatever the hell I wanted to, especially since I don't know what a "riff" is...I thought that had to do with guitars. I guess I'm not hip anymore.

Anyhoo, here's the image and the psychologically distorted story I wrote...the word appears at the end in quotations. Don't hurt yourself having too much fun. I'm going to tag Critter, Piggy and Punkin's Mom...
**********
Barbie couldn't understand why someone would want to desecrate her meticulous appearance with slimy, smelly escargot and their resultant fetid poo.

She thought that wasn't nice at all. She thought it would be great if she could move her hard plastic arms all by herself and get the snail shit off of her face and neck.

"Where's that stupid kid?" she thought. She could feel the snail dung sliding down her brow and into the corner of her left eye.

"Why did they have to paint my eyes open anyway? I'd rather not see everything." She could feel the snails massaging along, up and down her neck; back and forth across her face, leaving a nasty meringue over her eyes through which she could hardly see.

"Where IS that stupid kid?" she wondered again, finally noticing she was amid boxes, crushed cans and strings of dried up spaghetti.

If her mouth had been painted open, she could have screamed. "Oh, God, no! Not the dumpster!" She could only imagine having the power to put her face in her hands and sob. She knew she had been replaced by a Barbie with more bling, a shorter skirt, better boobs, a more flamboyant Ken, and a shiny black Escala*de filled full of Dom.

"That bitch!"


(The word was "meticulous")

this is really funny...

You really should read this hilarious article by one of our local columnists/authors...Confessions of a Non-Pet Owner

I pity the fool who doesn't accessorize with dog and cat hair daily.

many things are revealed to you when you are at your most vulnerable...

Don't you think this is true? I have grown just as much as I have suffered this year. The sword goes into your chest and comes out your back as a strange bouquet of flowers. That's what I think grief is like. I know I would not have started painting for 3-5 hours every night if I had not been battling the emotional upheaval of grief. I had played around with painting a little, but it became my guardian angel after the accident. It kept me alive inside and it helped me escape. I suppose discovering that way of expressing myself was a gift left for me.

There can be gifts for us if we accept them.

The internship is going well. It is a busy, lively place where everyone works as a team and helps one another. Everyone works through lunch, but they're happy doing what they do. I am challenged every time I go spend time with the therapists there, and they throw me into situations that make me think on my feet and perform in a way I never thought possible.

I'll count that as a gift, too.

In with the sword; out with the flowers. If ya' live. ;-)

turds on a stick...

Why I felt the need to title this post "turds on a stick," well, I just don't know. Maybe because my stomach has been in knots so much recently.

It seems that taking a little time off has helped. I finally felt a little bit of my mojo coming back today, but I have to get through the next four weeks without losing my mind. Since my internship ran into roadblocks early on (even though it was not my doing) I have 31 extra hours of internship left to squeeze in on top of the 16 hours extra a week of regular internship. Now, tell me how the hell am I going to do that? I guess I will have to take some vacation days from my regular job and work some full days of internship. Being laid up from major surgery is starting to look better and better all the time. No shit, I'm looking forward to being in a flat-on-my-back position regardless of pain and stitches. At least I will not have "THE LIST" hanging over my head.

Maybe "turds on a stick" is quite appropriate.

But, why do women pee on the toilet seat and then bitch at men for leaving the seat up? I lose a strand of DNA every time I go into a public bathroom and see a bunch of she-spray on the toilet. The toilets are far nastier when people DON'T sit on the seat. Use the friggin' ass-doilies they provide for gawd-sakes.

See, I AM feeling better today. Mrrrrraarrrwwwww! Pfffffffffttttt!

well, I don't want to write about it...

This is probably one of the longest hiatuses (sp?) I've had in a while. I just am so emotionally spent trying to close up Daddy's estate, clean out his house, working to learn a new profession, trying to keep the old one going, etc., etc... I just got to the point where that was all I had to say. I'm really really tired--mentally and emotionally. I make bizarre mistakes because I can't think straight. I go to work and try not to cry sometimes.

It's been a very complicated road working through the grief and all the issues that have come up in settling the estate business. I took the day off today because I really felt like I needed to take care of myself today. I felt guilty for doing it, but I just had to get away from everyone and everything for a day-well except for writing a short paper for school this morning...

When I actually stop, I don't know if I feel worse or better because I have time to feel...and that doesn't always bring a smile to my face these days. Grief is a long process and I guess I didn't want to keep saying the same thing over and over. For people around you...it's over. For you, you're trying to figure out how to make sense of things and move on somehow. It's just hard; especially since Daddy and I were finally starting to get close. It was a cruel twist for me. I waited all my life to get close and then I got to say goodbye to him in a black body bag in the middle of the night. Not fair. Not fair.

So, anyway, I am having a hysterectomy next month. No shit. I'll be out for 4-6 weeks, which may be the only way I can take a "vacation." Ha. Ha. I'm sure I'll have a blast. My fibroids are back with a vengeance and I've tried every medieval torture procedure the gyn has-and they have a lot. Time to say goodbye to the Lumpy Pear of Doom. As far as I'm concerned, good riddance.

So that is what's been going on.

In a nutshell.