Saturday, July 30, 2005

Princess Crankypants takes a holiday

Today I'm leaving on one of these:


Fricking fargin tubes of death. Gack.

And I'm going here:


OK, so I won't be exactly there since that would require a disgusting hike down a very steep switch-back trail that's like 42 miles down and 195 miles up. And I don't think they provide medi-vac lifts via helicopter back to the top. Because this booty is not hauling herself by foot. Fuck. That.

But I am going to be in the general vicinity and hopefully will get to spend some quality time in the park, Yellowstone that is, seeing my beloved wildlife. Safely from the friggen car thankyouverymuch. I can't tell you how many tourons get smashed by animals every year up there. No, Mildred, you cannot run faster than a bison!

Most important of all, my primary goal is doing this.


Which could also involve never brushing my hair and wearing nothing but pajamas for 6 days. Ahhhh, the glory of crusty jammies. It's been another retarded week leaving me shaking my head at what people are capable of, and fighting with insurance companies over the 4 million dollars I owe and how they completely fucked me over by giving me bad info and now shit, I have to do it all over again in September christ what if I need radiation I'm going to be half dead and broke cry cry cry. So screw all that stupid noise, I'm on vacation!

I'll try to find the time between napping and napping to post an entry or two. I am visiting my folks you know, so I'll have plenty of material. And my crazy brother will be there too. Bonus! In the meantime, have fun, miss me, love you, mean it.

And a special farewell to whitey. I don't know how I'll sleep without your farting, snoring body next to mine. (That's what you get for the packing crack). I will miss you, baby, so much it hurts. Love you like crazy. When I get back I'd like a O! Have fun with the cats and don't let them watch any more porn. They're gettin' ideas...

See yooz guys later!!

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Mom! I finished my homework!

The lovely Leslie was given 5 questions to answer and after I piped up begging to play, she graciously sent me 5 of my own to ponder. I usually don't participate in these meme (is that the correct usage of this stupid word that I don't know how to pronounce. Is it memm? M'em? Mee-mee? Fuck, I don't know. Stupid made-up internet word.) things, but Leslie is one smart cookie and I likes her. Check out her blog. It's a breath of fresh air when your world is stanky and she loves animals as much as me.

1. You have the opportunity to enact three laws. What are they?

This one was actually very hard for me and I'm sure I haven't given it nearly as much thought as I should have. But here goes.

Law # 1 - I would legalize prostitution but make sure this profession was handled like they do it at the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada. The girls are protected and safe with every conceivable protection at their fingertips, not to mention mandatory. It's a controlled environment of consenting adults and that's how it should be. The girls are there because they want to be and make a substantial amount of money. People should not be arrested for having consentual sex, if they are of legal age. It's just stupid.

Law # 2 - I would make animal abuse laws much stricter and perhaps painful. Anyone who is capable of hurting, torturing or abusing an animal should not get a light slap on the wrist with a minimal fine. They should get a taste of the pain they inflincted on the animal, say starving them until they can't lift their heads or tied to a tree in a backyard through the winter. At the very least, substantial jail time and lose every fucking thing they have. I feel very strongly about this one.

The ASPCA and Humane Society should get all the money from the government that goes towards developing chemical warfare and federally supported testing such as how many eyelashes the average person has. I'd rather have my money going towards something honorable and overly-necessary like animals in need.

Law # 2 - I think sexual predators should be phsycially castrated (chop it OFF) and medically altered (we're talking drooling zombies here) and put on an island surrounded by man-eating sharks (and giant killer jelly fish). Child molesters cannot be cured. They cannot be rehabilitated. And even if they can be successfully integrated back into society, there is more and more evidence showing that these people are not wired correctly. Even if they can control their actions, the urges never go away. They cannot be trusted around children or anyone for that matter if they're a rapist. They need to be banished. Off my planet, fuckwad!

2. What was the last kindness shown to you by a stranger or someone you don't know very well?

I have a customer who sent me a beautiful card in a business package last week. It was such a nice gesture I literally teared up. The note inside was very heartfelt and sincere and it was nice to be reminded that there are people out there who care, remember, and get it. She knows and understands about the healing I'm looking for and wished me just that. It was a simple act of kindness but meant so much. It's now on my bulletin board prominently displayed and I will extend the same generocity towards another person. It might be in the form of not hitting you, but hey! That would be darn nice of me!

3. Who has influenced you the most positively in your life -- I wanna know how they did and if they are still a part of your life.

This one is very tough. I've had so many people in my life who have lifted me up and taught me important lessons. But if I had to choose one today, it would have to be my first riding instructor in college. I was 21 or 22 and only had a few short and painful rides on horseback, mostly involving me getting on and promptly falling off. I'd been raised by my loving (and paranoid) father to fear horses. When I signed up for the riding course at my university I couldn't even feed a horse a carrot. A chickenshit was I.

Laura was the Basic Equitation instructor. Her tight, sunburned and weathered face betrayed her easy smile and friendly demeanor. The first day of class I cracked a joke that went over well and I can't help but think that might have been what endeared her to me strait-away. For some reason I became teacher's pet, which was ironic since I knew jack shit about horses. Laura saw something special in me and with her quiet way, instilled a confidence I'd never had before. I felt calm around her. A type of quiet fearlessness I'd rarely had.

Whenever Laura needed some task completed, she called on me. A spooky horse needed a walk, Betty got the job. A horse with enough energy to gallop from California to New York? Betty will work him out in the bull-pen. The killer horse who hated people needed a rider? Betty'll do it.

These weren't menial tasks or grunt work that Laura asked me to do. They were dangerous endevors, always important and Laura needed someone she could trust. She never had to look into my eyes and say "you can do this", I just knew I could. She radiated confidence right into me and I've always appreciated that. I was forever changed by that experience and how Laura treated me. I'm truly not articulating this the way I'd like to, but it was an unspoken thing, so maybe it doesn't need any more words than I've already said.

Laura left my school before I graduated. And truthfully, I only took one more riding class for fun then had to concentrate on my major and drinking as much beer as I could shove down my gullet. But I've never forgotten those 2 quarters and how they affected me forever. Laura is a person I go to in my head when I need a dose of tenacity. I'll be forever grateful to her and think of her often when I'm riding now.

4. What are you most passionate about? What makes your heart soar and your soul dance?

Man, Leslie, give me the hardest, thought-provoking questions in the whole wide world why dontcha! If we're talking about a profession, I'm extremely passionate about Human Sexuality Education. It's the career path I plan on taking as soon as I get an all-clear with this cancer shit. I think it's so important to teach kids all aspects concerning the most important subject on earth, and not just how their plumbing works. But I'll save that speech for another time.

I'd have to say the thing I'm most passionate about and that makes my heart soar is animals. I like them better than people. Sometimes I get shit for saying that, but fuck itm it's true. Animals aren't judgemental, well, except for cats, and they love you unconditionally. Once again, except for cats. I'e never felt more love for anything in the world than my dog Casey. Hear that cats? I loved a dog best of all. Ha!

Some of the most amazing experiences of my life have been with an animal of some kind. From coyotes to killer whales. Life-alterting, amazing, take-your-breath-away-you-probably-wouldn't-even-believe-me-anyway encounters.

I'm a spoiled little Princess Crankypants as my parents live in Yellowstone. So I get to go up there anytime I want and frolic in the forest and molest the wildlife. I'm always thrilled by every creature I see and have about 40 blargillion pictures of bison and elk. I never tire of it and my primary goal is always to see the beasts rather than the trees, which are also nice. But nothing makes me squeal outloud like finding a bald eagle riding on the wind or a moose feeding in the lake.

I would love to someday go to Africa. Specifically to experience all of the incredible wildlife in their natural habitats. Hopefully I won't have to witness a lioness taking down a zebra or anything, but hey, what are ya gonna do? It's not like they have cans of Alpo on the plains. And I've recently taken to screaming out "I WANT TO EAT IT!!" whenever I see a too-cute puppy. Thankfully whitey thinks it's hilarious and isn't ready to file down my teeth.

5. What's a perfect day in your world?

A perfect day in my world would have to be a Sunday. All the chores are done and the only thing on the agenda is lazing around all day. None of the 1800 things on my to-do list require attention and we're all stocked up on provisions. No need to get in the car for anything.

I wake up after a (non-existent) good night's sleep feeling great. No headaches. No body aches. No crushing fatigue. My baby and I lounge around in bed for awhile since there's no need to jump out of it. The world is quiet, still and peaceful. And the cats come and snuggle with ME. Dammit.

We stay in our pajamas all day. Hell, I might not even brush my hair. While the rain steadily falls outside, whitey makes us his famous bacon and cheese omelet with a side of hashbrowns breakfast and I have a hearty supply of chocolate to snack on throughout the day. We have a pile of good movies to watch and plug one in whenever we want. My afternoon nap is preceded by some slamming sex and I sleep sans scary dreams, waking up without being groggy. And the cats come and snuggle with ME. Dammit.

I spend a little time reading a good book, watch another movie and order me a mess of stuff from God, I love shopping. Mess around on the computer a little, then snog on the couch with my baby after a dinner of lemon chicken salad and orgasmic breadsticks from my favorite Greek place while we watch bad reality TV and make fun of ALL THE PEOPLE CRYING. Seriously, what's with the crying? I go to bed early, feeling relaxed and happy and not guilty for spending the whole day doing next to nothing. And the cats come snuggle with ME. Dammit.

Thanks Leslie! That was fun. I'd offer to pass on 5 questions to another person, but I'm getting ready to go on vacation and frankly, I'm just that lazy.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Aye, ye scarby dog

How is that I've reached the ripe ol' age of 37 and still manage to get shampoo in my fucking eye?

God dammit.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Burned again

One great thing about having a blog is that I get to say whatever the fuck I want to and no one can do a damn thing about it. I can't be shunned. I can't be shamed. I can't be banned. This is my kingdom and I wear the crown. It's shiny.

Having a personal space to vent your feelings and thoughts is so important because we all encounter situations in our lives where we don't have the opportunity to speak our minds, defend ourselves, or give personal sides to the story. We can't tell the boss that he's an idiot. We can't scream at the lumbering old lady in front you in the grocery store to hurry up. Well, we could but it might not go over so well.

I've experienced a situation this week that reminds me of what's important in life, makes me appreciate my true friends, and most of all, reminds me that the world is populated with fucking lunatic assholes who spew mostly bullshit from their gaping holes and feed on hypocrisy like the fat kid in a candy store. But what do I know? I'm vitriolic and unhappy.

One thing that drives me more batshit crazy than most others, and we all know that's a long fucking list, is being accused of something I haven't done. This started at a very early age when I was pinpointed as a criminal the first day of kindergarten and it was really the stupid kidwith the eyepatch and snotty nose next to me. Long running trauma here. I tend to go right from a questioning posture to exploding in a campaigning frenzy of my own defense. And if that doesn't work, out come my claws. They are sharp and skillful.

And really, is that so different than anyone else?? I think not. I am human just like everyone else. I have feelings. I'm more sensitive than most and I will fully admit that I don't always have a tight grip on my emotions. But I'm willing to apologize if I get nutty. I am a good person who cares about people and would give someone the shirt off my back, except my new black one that I haven't worn yet that gives me some slammin' cleavage.

What I'm not willing to do is eat a giant shit sandwich that's being force-fed down my gullet. I will not keep quiet when blind-sided with accusations that are untrue and actions against me that are unfair and unwarranted. You slap my face with an open hand while I was minding my own business and you'll lose some teeth for your trouble. You poke me in the eye and you'll get bloody. You call me a jerk and I'll call your mother a filthy whore. That's how it works for me, and most everyone else. At least I admit to it. And I'll do it right to your face, not safely behind your friend's big brother's cousin's back.

I don't call someone a friend on a whim. I don't care about someone with a half-hearted effort. I don't share myself without risk. It's a gift when someone gives of themselves and it's an act of fucking evil when you promise someone a haven of protection, to assure them a safe place to vent, to share their private lives and personal struggles then spit in their face after they speak. Tell me your problems, my god you're so negative.

No one likes to be judged with only a speck of information. It's dangerous and dumb. And I will not bother with you ever again if I haven't been given the benefit of at least minimal communication.

When someone has chosen to block all access to your voice you will find another ear.

So, for those of you who have claimed friendship, go around crying that there's two sides to every story, then join one camp without giving the other side the benefit of laying their cards on the table, you can go fuck yourselves. It's a sad irony that some people spew this kind of injustice about like a fire hose but don't put into practicality. And they certainly don't apply this fairplay to anyone but themselves, or when it serves their own purposes, or when they're blindly jammed up a false idols asscrack.

I did nothing. I said nothing. I started nothing. I deserved none of it. I've read everything you've said. Ahhh, hypocrisy in its finest form.

"That bitch is so mean."

Get it now assholes??

What a joke.

Monday, July 18, 2005

So many anniversaries...

I need to start this post with something positive before I bitch and moan at you lovely people. It was exactly 2 years ago today that I got the call. The call that told me I had cancer. I thought it was a death sentence and my world crashed down with a deafening force. Guess what. I'm still here. (A big toe up the ass for those of you who hate me - ha ha. Suck it). It has sucked gorilla tits, no doubt about it, and something I'll have to manage and deal with forever. But the key here is that I have a forever. At least for now. And that's fucking awesome.

I'm very lucky and I know it. I've had it much easier than some, but even those who trudge through worse shit-shows than me are still here too. So, if anyone out there has gotten some news that seems too big to handle, just know that there are a lot of us out here still kickin' it with our homies. A diagnosis isn't always a ticket to the big dirt nap. And for the rest of you who are GIANT PUSSIES AFRAID OF THE DOCTOR AND NEEDLES AND PRETTY PAPER SHIRTS. Grow a pair and go. If you all disappear who am I'm going to complain to?

And also furthermore too bad I'm giving another plug to a deserving site. Just get over the "I'm so sick of those stupid plastic bracelets" thing. Yes, they turned into a fad. Yes, people wanted the coveted yellow band for a status symbol. Who cares? The semi-important thing is that it's being talked about. The fully important thing is that cancer research, for EVERY kind of cancer, is getting attention and money. So I don't give a flying fuck if you're sick of that chunk of plastic around a wrist, go here and learn. Give a dollar. Make a difference. It might be you next time.


OK, I didn't kill myself or anyone else in the last week. Although I got really close to running a few people over with my car. The no smoking thing didn't really work out either. I'm not a big-time sparker, but I know it's terrible for me and I'm nuts to be participating in this nasty habit blah blah. I smoke a few a day, or not at all, or more when I'm partying. Then I lose the taste and stop. I'm lucky it's not a horror show for me to quit. But when my brain is exploding from drug withdrawal and I'm obsessed with a painful decision, forrrrrrrget it. I'm lighting up if I want to.

I did however decide to stick with my plan of going off anti-depressants. Rachael (whom I have to properly link because she's a kick-ass writer taking names and leaving marks and I dig her chile so sorry I've been a tard, girlie) asked me in the comments why I would go off these meds. Well, here's the deal. I went on them because I'd been treading water in a sesspool of major clinical depression since my diagnosis, and probably a good deal of time before that. I needed help but I didn't do it all the right way. I didn't get therapy with the meds and that I do not recommend.

It wasn't a decision as much as an avoidance of more responsibilities. I was so sick of doctors appointments and draining my savings account for medical bills that I couldn't handle one more thing. But, I did find a psychiatrist, not my gynecologist, who knew what he was doing (hopefully) and recognized the fact that messing with your thyroid jacks up your entire body, mind, moods, etc., etc.

I was put on a drug that works well with the specific thyroid replacement hormones I take. And for awhile they worked. Then we upped the dosage and things went steadily in the opposite direction I was looking for. The depression really wasn't an issue anymore and I'd already made the decision that I wanted to go off the meds. Then I found out that they could be part of the reason why I feel like baked turd most of the time AND they make you gain weight, which I didn't know about my brand. Fuck that, Jack. No way. I don't have a thyroid and I'm addicted to chocolate. I don't need a little pill make me gain more weight. PFT.

Plus I'm freakishly sensitive to everything and can really feel these chemicals pumping through my system and I was ready to try something else like, Oh, I don't know, exercise. Shh, don't tell Tom Cruise. I finally got that dick to stop calling me.

And that's that. I did the right thing (OK, yes I know that it took me a few days and a couple friends yelling at me) and called my primary doctor to get a lower dose so I could tapir myself off of them like you're supposed to do. Practice what you preach, Betty. Practice what you preach.

Bottom line, if you feel like you need some pharmaceutical intervention because you're holding on to that last shred of pissed-soaked rope, then by all means do what you need to do. But please do a lot research first and go to someone who specializes in brain-altering drugs and not your chiropractor. These meds are given out like candy and they're nothing to fuck with. OK? OK. And please feel free to e-mail me if you have any questions. If you hadn't noticed, I'm not shy.


God dammit, I didn't go to my high school torture make fun of fat people compare yourself to everyone memory trauma hope you aren't the biggest loser reunion either. And making that decision was an exercise in hysteria all by itself.

Do I go do I not go. Do I drag my poor boyfriend who would know not a soul. Do I suck it up and inflate my head with confidence and not care about the size of my ass or spare myself from another 10 years of retail therapy to get over spending $300 on a new outfit and $3,000 on psychotropic drugs.


I still don't know if I made the right decision, although it was mostly made for me when the friend I was going with backed out the day before the shindig. Thanks a lot Julie! I should have seen that one coming. I hated high school but my friend really hated high school. Which is not the way I remembered it since she looked like a supermodel and could get any guy she wanted. Although there was that little tiny incident our senior year when she came to school drunk, puked in the middle of the art class and got kicked out. Oops. I suppose that tainted her memory a bit. Teenagers - do not drink before school. Wait until after.

"We" decided that there wasn't anyone worth seeing or whoever we'd want to see wouldn't be there. "We" decided that we didn't keep in contact with anyone we saw at the 10 year reunion anyway. "We" decided that it wasn't valuable to flush our tentative self-esteem down the toilet for one night of possible misery or merriment, no guarantees of either. "We" decided that everyone was probably just as judgmental and snobby as they've been our whole lives and the reason why we stumbled out of the last one very drunk and very sorry we went. "We" went home and wrestled with the torn feelings for a few hours, got drunk and cried a little on our understanding boyfriends shoulder and drunk dialed a couple of friends. Oh wait, that was only me.

Despite the assurances from about a million people that their 10 sucked and their 20 was great, I resigned to the fact that I was giving up on pushing the issue with anyone and would not be there. Last time I regretted going and now I'll have to live with the regret of not. Oh, irony. What a fickle little bitch is she. I blame Alanis Morisette. I don't know if she's fickle but she sure is cranky.


Sunday I woke up before God, puttered around the house and decided that what was done was done and I won't think about it anymore. Instead I'm going to obsess about my upcoming visit to my parents where my mother will talk incessantly about how much more weight I've gained and I sneak candy behind her back.

Then about 8:00 I pounced on whitey to get up get up get up come play with me and please please make me breakfast. Which he did because he's awesome. We basically did some chores and some relaxing then I took a nap. After I peeled my zombie ass off the napping bed, we watched Anchorman with Will Ferrell. I highly recommend this flick if you want to laugh until coke comes out your nose.

I'd seen it before but he hadn't, which I think is really fun especially when the other person had heard bad things about a movie that you know is good and they will love then you'll get all the credit for their happiness. We laughed so fucking hard it was obnoxious. And of course picked up a bunch of high-larious phrases that only we'll get. I can't wait to drop "you are a real hooker" on some poor unsuspecting retail clerk. Ha. That'll be fun!

For your avid bibliophiles out there, I can't say enough about this book. (Thank you Heidi!) The premise sounds rather grim and morose, but trust me. Give it a chance and I think you'll like it. It centers around 4 very different people who end up on the same roof ready to jump to their demise. It's funny and different and quirky and inventive. Great summer read for inside the house with the AC cranking and a fan aimed at your sweaty neck while you whine for the 70 bazillionth time about the fucking heat. Oh, once again that would be me.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Word to the wise

DO NOT try to quit smoking and go off of your anti-depressant meds in the same week.

I can't decide if I want to kill myself or everyone else.


Monday, July 11, 2005

Liar liar set your head on fire

Meaning trite or overused expression. From the French past participle of 'clicher' loosely translated to “Soss stoopeed Americans can't use ze brain to invent ze original phrase to safe ze life. I speet on dem. Patooey”

We all know people are full of shit. It's a pandemic. More prevalent than fleas. And we’re all well aware that those who find it a novelty to shove an untruth up your ass, rather than be honest, thoroughly enjoy the dreaded cliché when putting their purjurious prattle into practice.

Bullshitters are like the guilty kid slathered in chocolate from head to toe insisting that "me no ate the cookie". And the famously unimaginative who snatch that last double chocolate brownie from the plate right as you’re reaching for it who look at you with a smug face and belch some jewel such as “you snooze, you lose”. Ohhh, how I hate these people. Ohhh, how they should be caned. By me.

It's unbelievable the aspersions crap spewers try to cast. Especially when it's so obvious that you're literally stunned at their unbelievable attempt at falsehood. Opened jawed and wide eyed with imaginary innocence. Your response nothing but a woosh of discerning air of incredulity escaping past your lips. Unable to respond as you'd like to, the words coming 20 minutes too late.

Everyone embellishes, stretches the truth, fibs a little. It’s part of human nature. We can’t escape it. And sometimes it’s necessary. When feelings need to be spared and there’s no use in revealing every detail. There is a time and a place for brutal truth, and appropriate reasons to fudge it. But the level of libel that we encounter in our daily adult lives is staggering.

Even though I totally appreciate it when anyone is giving me a pep talk and trying to make me feel better with well-intentioned advice, or trying to inject some positive energy into my terminally cranky butt, I sincerely wish they’d save the tired clichés for someone who’s less hostile. Because there are some sayings that just make me want to beat people with a flaming 2 by 4.

You can be anything you want to be. One of the biggest lies ever told to anyone in the history of the world. I mean come on. You can not! Number one, using an absolute isn’t a smart thing to do anyway, but let's be real here. I'm never going to be a defensive tackle for the Broncos. (Damn, I love those shiny pants). I can't become a trapeze artist. (Besides the fact I'd have to work with fucking clowns, you know I'd fall and kill myself). And I'm sure as hell never going to be President. (The pay sucks and I already have a million people who don’t like me, I don’t need whole countries trying to bomb my ass).

You have nothing to fear but fear itself. Oh yea? Tell that to the guy with the rattlesnake happily sharing his sleeping bag. What a load. Try to convince me that being locked in a flying tube of death plunging through space is a natural phenomenon and that fearing I'll fall to the ground at the speed of light and become a small stain on the ground is irrational. Fuck. You. I don't need to face anything, I don't need to get over my fright. I need to take prescription medication and mix it with alcohol.

At least it's a dry heat. Yes, because standing under a bright sky that measures 115 degrees Farenheit doesn't feel like molten lava being poured over your head. Because it's DRY. Who the fuck cares? It wouldn't matter if I were 200 feet below the ocean's surface, being anywhere that resembles the surface of the sun SUCKS and I DON'T WANT TO GO THERE.

Little pinch now. Bullfuckingshit little pinch. Why don't I take that gleeming needle and plunge it into the soft part of your arm and we'll see if it feels like a little pinch. Lying hoor.

It's not you its me. Ha, it's SO you.

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. Biggest load of crap. Everybody wants the dirt. We love gossip. The dirty details and the sordid scoop. Most people lick their lips with anticipation when being let in on the juicy secret. That's why I prefer "If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit by me"! Now there's a cliché I can get behind.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Help, I've binged and I can't get up

Is it possible to consume so many Hershey Kisses as to become poisoned by mid-quality chocolate?

Is 583 too many?

Is it a bad sign that my boss's head now has a little point with a paper streamer sticking out the top?

Is there an antidote?

I'll post again later tonight. I have a feeling I'll be awake since for some reason I've lost the ability to blink.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Boring re-cap and shameless PSA

How was everyone's Happy Fourth Canada Day of July?

Somehow I feel like my three day weekend was wasted. Or more appropriately, I wasted it being in a fog for most of it. Things were slightly left of center. I saw everything out of the corner of my eye, the one full of cat hair. I'm still so tired, then I get guilty for being a sloth, then pissed off, then I take a nap.

The temp's have been heating up lately, and since I've turned into a walking furnace with tits it's been brutal. The thought of spending any time in the sun precisely kept me out of it, as much as possible. We were invited to a party on Monday but the thought of sitting outside was too much to take. So we went to the mall instead, inbetween watching 495 hours of TV and laying like a rug. Poor whitey. I feel so bad for being such a sickly dud all the time.

We did venture out to lunch on Sunday too. I was happy to go to what was (emphasis on was) one of my favorite restaurants, The Cheescake factory. I love this place. The atmosphere is nice, the food awesome and the cheescakes are almost better than sex. But I talked it up too much and jinxed it. Or it was because I said outloud that I'd talked it up too much and probably jinxed it. Either way, it sucked.

It was so crappy that I didn't get any cheesecake. That's how pissed off I was. The place was jammed with screaming kids and obnoxious drunks, at 4:00 mind you. I ordered an Asian chicken salad that arrived with a huge pile of fiber-optic hair piled on top, hardly any dressing and it was littered with that purple cabbage. I hate purple cabbage. Tasted like poo. Worst of all, our waitress blew. And not in the good way.

I walk into an eatery planning on a 20% tip for my server. You have to fuck up good for it to start going down. Our chick messed up so many times that not only did she get about a 12% tip, but I stole her pretty pink pen she gave me to sign the credit card slip with. Ha! That'll learn ya. And now I'll never go back there. Or at least not until I forget about the shitty salad and the loudness and the bad service want a piece of Kaluah Fudge Double Chocolate Caramal Extreme Ripple Cheescake.

All-in-all, it wasn't a bad weekend by any means. I had a great riding lesson on Saturday and jumped a bunch, so that was fun. But I'm torqued about still not feeling great all the time and worried that I'm dragging someone else through this mud with me. And yes, I believe him when he says it's/we're/he's fine, but I'm still going to worry! So feh.


And now I shall lecture and plea.

I'm an animal lover. In fact, I like them more than people. Might sound harsh, but it's the truth and I make no apolgies for it. I'm not perfect and yes, the Noctural Bastards do irritate me from time-to-time and you might see a kitty taking a small flying leap with a little assistance off the bed at 1:30 in the morning after attempting to walk across my brains. But, my girls are well taken care of and protected.

They're not allowed outside to get eaten by coyotes or squished by cars or infringe on some neighbor who might not like my cats as much as I do and decide to turn them into furry mulch.
They're fed and watered and given treats and belly rubs and toys. They have the run of the house, save for the coffee table because those little fuckers get up there and drink my drinks with paws dusted in kitty litter. However, they are loved. I am tolerated. That's how it works.

Whitey and I happened across several episodes of Animal Cops while we were lounging about last weekend. I seriously cannot go into the rant I'd like to about this epidemic of abuse. It will upset me to the point of shut-down or explosion. It's not that I can't believe people are such souless fucks that they can neglect, mistreat and torture living creatures. It's the overwhelming numbers of worthless pricks perpetrating these crimes against animals that blows me away. It's the cruel disregard for life. The utter selfishness and lack of thought. Makes me sick on a level I can't articulate.

The people who rescue animals, arrest abusers, nurse furries back to health, and care enough to witness the carnage, destruction and desecration on a daily basis are angels. It takes special people to do this and from what I've seen not someone who's just doing their job. They really care. And they have the guts to see what they see and deal with what they have to deal with. That takes balls. And money. Which is what I give because I couldn't face what they do.

Animals are a life, not an impulse buy. So take heed when it's Easter and those bunnies are just too cute. Think before bringing a particular dog or dog breed into your home. Do your research prior to getting that fish tank or hamster or kitten. Please be responsible and get your beasts fixed and keep them healthy with vaccinations and check-ups.

Find out the proper way to train a new puppy or to deal with a freaky feline. And ask for help if you need it. Find a good home if you can't take care of an animal anymore. Do what's right. For you and your pet and maybe someday we won't have a show like Animal Cops with a million hours of heartbreaking footage.

I know there are a zillion charities out there. Important causes. Personal choices. And I'm sure lots of people think animals aren't as valuable as humans, but there's room for both, at least in my mind. My philosophy is, if someone doesn't care about life in the lowest forms, what would make them care about life in the higher? And yes, this includes snakes. (Darnit). If you can't give money, there are always lists of needs the shelters publish. Even a few old towels would be greatly appreciated. So, if you're so inclined, check out these sites. They need you too.


Humane Society