Thursday, October 25, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Unluckiest Bitch Ever
I haven't written for a while because I guess I just wanted to pretend my Grandmother's not completely fucked. She had her second lumpectomy that they said went well and we got bumped back to the oncologist to talk about cancer treatment and received the sad news that Non would need Chemo in addition to the localized radiation and that we were looking at more than 5 months of non-stop doctors appointments, chemo, vomiting, dehydration, and itchy wigs.
We were also told that since Non had sirosis of the liver (which I don't know how to spell and can't get spell check to fix) which meant that they didn't know how the Chemo was going to do when her liver had problems metabolizing it out of her system. So yeah, that sucked.
But I was optimistic! We scheduled a PET scan to make sure the cancer hadn't spread past her cancer ridden lymph nodes. The PET scan was a breeze and all we needed to do next was wait for the results.
In the mean time I got together with my uncle and bought Non a plane ticket to Ohio so she could visit her family and see her sisters before we had to start the long grueling process of radiation. We packed her 3 dogs up and took them and her over to our house the night before her flight.
And the little stupid 2lb chihuahua shithead ran away. And we looked for it. And looked for it. And just when we'd decided it was being sold into slavery, it reappeared bright and early the next morning just in time for Non to chill out before her flight.
Her flight went well and we decided to keep the 2 stupid chihuahua's locked on the back porch but let the 15 year old decrepit half blind and all deaf mutt wander the yard because she was a pacer.
She of course, disappeared. The difference this time though was that she hasn't come back and it's been a few days. But we didn't want Non to know we lost another one of her dogs, so we haven't told her the dog's missing. Whenever she asks about them, we just say that little's just wandering around. Non replied that that was the story of Little's life.
We've decided to tell her it passed in the night and dig a hole and "bury" it even though we can't find it, but we want to wait until later to make sure she doesn't show back up because that would be REALLY hard to explain.
So, after accepting that Little's decrepit ass had probably gone off somewhere to die we let life continue as always. Non, meanwhile, apparently decided to drive to Indiana with her sister Janet who doesn't work and has an in-ground pool they were going to chill next to.
Almost immediately after arriving, Non fell down two steps and broke her hip.
BROKE HER FUCKING HIP!
The first words I said to her when I got her on the phone was that she's the most unlucky person I ever met in my entire life. She laughed, but she was pretty high on morphine at the time.
So, one would think that the shit storm of bad luck would chill out for a minute, but no.
This morning I received the results of the PET scan. Non has a spot on her lung that looks pretty damn cancerous. Of course she does. To make matters worse, the surgeons are worried about how surgery would go there and apparently it's in a pretty hard to reach spot. So now they're talking about draining her malfuntioning liver's fluid off her abdomen again (they only took 5 liters last time!) and hoping that gives them a better way in.
I couldn't tell her that. I just couldn't. So I told the doctor I couldn't handle having to relay any more bad news and that she needed to call Non herself. The doctor was understanding. If she hadn't been I think I would have gotten pretty damn ugly right then.
So now I'm contemplating taking my first ever sick day at work to go sit in the sun somewhere and just chill out and hopefully get off this crazy train for a few hours.
There's really nothing you can say to end a post like this. It's just too messed up for reflection and my optimistic nature has been beaten into a bitty pulp. So, I'm just going to leave it here.
-Sarah
We were also told that since Non had sirosis of the liver (which I don't know how to spell and can't get spell check to fix) which meant that they didn't know how the Chemo was going to do when her liver had problems metabolizing it out of her system. So yeah, that sucked.
But I was optimistic! We scheduled a PET scan to make sure the cancer hadn't spread past her cancer ridden lymph nodes. The PET scan was a breeze and all we needed to do next was wait for the results.
In the mean time I got together with my uncle and bought Non a plane ticket to Ohio so she could visit her family and see her sisters before we had to start the long grueling process of radiation. We packed her 3 dogs up and took them and her over to our house the night before her flight.
And the little stupid 2lb chihuahua shithead ran away. And we looked for it. And looked for it. And just when we'd decided it was being sold into slavery, it reappeared bright and early the next morning just in time for Non to chill out before her flight.
Her flight went well and we decided to keep the 2 stupid chihuahua's locked on the back porch but let the 15 year old decrepit half blind and all deaf mutt wander the yard because she was a pacer.
She of course, disappeared. The difference this time though was that she hasn't come back and it's been a few days. But we didn't want Non to know we lost another one of her dogs, so we haven't told her the dog's missing. Whenever she asks about them, we just say that little's just wandering around. Non replied that that was the story of Little's life.
We've decided to tell her it passed in the night and dig a hole and "bury" it even though we can't find it, but we want to wait until later to make sure she doesn't show back up because that would be REALLY hard to explain.
So, after accepting that Little's decrepit ass had probably gone off somewhere to die we let life continue as always. Non, meanwhile, apparently decided to drive to Indiana with her sister Janet who doesn't work and has an in-ground pool they were going to chill next to.
Almost immediately after arriving, Non fell down two steps and broke her hip.
BROKE HER FUCKING HIP!
The first words I said to her when I got her on the phone was that she's the most unlucky person I ever met in my entire life. She laughed, but she was pretty high on morphine at the time.
So, one would think that the shit storm of bad luck would chill out for a minute, but no.
This morning I received the results of the PET scan. Non has a spot on her lung that looks pretty damn cancerous. Of course she does. To make matters worse, the surgeons are worried about how surgery would go there and apparently it's in a pretty hard to reach spot. So now they're talking about draining her malfuntioning liver's fluid off her abdomen again (they only took 5 liters last time!) and hoping that gives them a better way in.
I couldn't tell her that. I just couldn't. So I told the doctor I couldn't handle having to relay any more bad news and that she needed to call Non herself. The doctor was understanding. If she hadn't been I think I would have gotten pretty damn ugly right then.
So now I'm contemplating taking my first ever sick day at work to go sit in the sun somewhere and just chill out and hopefully get off this crazy train for a few hours.
There's really nothing you can say to end a post like this. It's just too messed up for reflection and my optimistic nature has been beaten into a bitty pulp. So, I'm just going to leave it here.
-Sarah
Friday, May 18, 2012
Today Needs To Fuck Off
Heading to the hospital with Non for yet another lumpectomy. The pathologist says they left something in there but I don't know how the hell he knows that.
Anyways, today's going to suck but I'll survive.
Anyways, today's going to suck but I'll survive.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
I Am a Failure At Mother's Day.
Mother's Day kinda sucks when your mom is trying to move all her shit from her old house to the new house and is entirely too busy to go out to lunch, or reminisce, or make you feel like you've acknowledged Mother's Day in any significant way whatsoever.
Also, my perfect gift idea was totally jacked by my mother's husband (I will explain why I call him that in another post.) She's never had a massage before so I told Miguel I was going to get her a certificate for one and a pedicure and he completely stole it. Like, he just said he was taking it and that I could come up with something else.
I'm glad she got it, but that well off good gift ideas dried up after that. Edible Arrangements? Booked up. Lunch? No time. Candy? She's on a diet. Flowers? Nobody delivers to bum-fuck, and certainly not at the last minute.
I can't even help her move because I'm working a 12 hour shift right now. And I can't talk to her until later so I actually had to send "Happy Mother's Day!" via text message. TEXT MESSAGE.
Fail.
-Sarah
Update: Ok, so apparently mom's husband Miguel is REALLY bad at Mother's day. He invited a bunch of his relatives over to help us move and try brought their asshole messy kids over and Mom had to clean up after their asses while Miguel got drunk on th back porch. He's way worse at this than me. Double Mega Fail.
Also, my perfect gift idea was totally jacked by my mother's husband (I will explain why I call him that in another post.) She's never had a massage before so I told Miguel I was going to get her a certificate for one and a pedicure and he completely stole it. Like, he just said he was taking it and that I could come up with something else.
I'm glad she got it, but that well off good gift ideas dried up after that. Edible Arrangements? Booked up. Lunch? No time. Candy? She's on a diet. Flowers? Nobody delivers to bum-fuck, and certainly not at the last minute.
I can't even help her move because I'm working a 12 hour shift right now. And I can't talk to her until later so I actually had to send "Happy Mother's Day!" via text message. TEXT MESSAGE.
Fail.
-Sarah
Update: Ok, so apparently mom's husband Miguel is REALLY bad at Mother's day. He invited a bunch of his relatives over to help us move and try brought their asshole messy kids over and Mom had to clean up after their asses while Miguel got drunk on th back porch. He's way worse at this than me. Double Mega Fail.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Gas Can Walk of Shame
I make my own problems sometimes. Yesterday when I was leaving for work I ran out of gas in my parking spot. Apparently I had just enough gas to get home, but not enough to leave again.
So I called my supervisor and told her I had car problems ("Don't you have a new car?") and went looking for a ride to the gas station. Neither of my neighbors would answer the door, but I found a gas can by the lawn mower in my landlord's backyard.
It was empty. Of course. But I had a gas can, damn it, so I started hoofing it the half mile to the gas station. As I walked there was a bit of a thought train going on.
(Going downhill.)
Wow, it feels nice out here! Why don't I go walking more often?
(Several cars pass.)
Damn, I'm in my fire department uniform. This is embarrassing.
(Another car.)
These people are going to think the fire department's poor. Hell, we are poor. Maybe they'll approve more funding. I've just increased the budget. Good job, Sarah.
(Half way there and a few more cars pass.)
Why haven't any of these assholes stopped to offer me a ride yet? Like, 5 cars have passed. What the hell? Do I look like a murder or something?
(At the station. Put the gas can by the pump and go in to pay.)
Ugh, this place is filthy. And that cashier's such a creeper. Why is he always on the phone? Who the hell is he talking to at 6AM? And why can't he be bothered to stop his conversation to ring me up? I know you're speaking Hindi, and I can't understand it, but that's rude. Walla-Walla-Ding-Dong to you too.
(At the pump.)
For the love of god don't get gas on your only clean uniform!!!
($5 Later.)
Seriously??? Where the hell is my gas??? I know this isn't $5 in gas.
(Walking back.)
This is the lightest gas can ever. I just got ripped off.
(Guy stops to offer me a ride.)
Freaking finally! I'm not getting in the car with this guy but at least somebody offered! I was developing a complex.
(Two more guys offer.)
Ok this guy's less creepy but I don't get in the car with strangers. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Even if you are tired.
(Walking uphill.)
Creeper guy! Come back! I'm so tired! And I'm getting sweat on my uniform! This is the heaviest gas can ever! My arm's going to fall off! Help!
(At the car.)
I know, car. It's all my fault. I did you wrong and I'm sorry.
(Filling car.)
Why does it take so long to pour this in here? It's so much faster at the pump. Is it pressurized or something?
(Returning gas can.)
If she comes out of the house and says anything now I'm just going to scream "Where were you when I needed you?!"
-Sarah
So I called my supervisor and told her I had car problems ("Don't you have a new car?") and went looking for a ride to the gas station. Neither of my neighbors would answer the door, but I found a gas can by the lawn mower in my landlord's backyard.
It was empty. Of course. But I had a gas can, damn it, so I started hoofing it the half mile to the gas station. As I walked there was a bit of a thought train going on.
(Going downhill.)
Wow, it feels nice out here! Why don't I go walking more often?
(Several cars pass.)
Damn, I'm in my fire department uniform. This is embarrassing.
(Another car.)
These people are going to think the fire department's poor. Hell, we are poor. Maybe they'll approve more funding. I've just increased the budget. Good job, Sarah.
(Half way there and a few more cars pass.)
Why haven't any of these assholes stopped to offer me a ride yet? Like, 5 cars have passed. What the hell? Do I look like a murder or something?
(At the station. Put the gas can by the pump and go in to pay.)
Ugh, this place is filthy. And that cashier's such a creeper. Why is he always on the phone? Who the hell is he talking to at 6AM? And why can't he be bothered to stop his conversation to ring me up? I know you're speaking Hindi, and I can't understand it, but that's rude. Walla-Walla-Ding-Dong to you too.
(At the pump.)
For the love of god don't get gas on your only clean uniform!!!
($5 Later.)
Seriously??? Where the hell is my gas??? I know this isn't $5 in gas.
(Walking back.)
This is the lightest gas can ever. I just got ripped off.
(Guy stops to offer me a ride.)
Freaking finally! I'm not getting in the car with this guy but at least somebody offered! I was developing a complex.
(Two more guys offer.)
Ok this guy's less creepy but I don't get in the car with strangers. Never let them take you to a secondary location. Even if you are tired.
(Walking uphill.)
Creeper guy! Come back! I'm so tired! And I'm getting sweat on my uniform! This is the heaviest gas can ever! My arm's going to fall off! Help!
(At the car.)
I know, car. It's all my fault. I did you wrong and I'm sorry.
(Filling car.)
Why does it take so long to pour this in here? It's so much faster at the pump. Is it pressurized or something?
(Returning gas can.)
If she comes out of the house and says anything now I'm just going to scream "Where were you when I needed you?!"
-Sarah
Friday, May 11, 2012
Cancer Beats Paper
I need some time to myself. Between Grandma Cancer Boob and the Constipated Wonder I've been really busy, but add in Pregnant Grandma Coworker and (I'm having a hard time finding a nickname for) my other sister who just wants to sit on my bed while I'm trying to sleep and say she's bored and it's just too much. I've been way too busy to paint my nails, vacuum my car, read a book, or do any of the other little things I like.
I'm going to pick a day every week, Thursday or Friday depending on when I'm off, and just lock my door and tell everyone to fuck off. Except Cancer Boob, I guess. Cancer beats tired granddaughter any day. It's like rock beats paper but it makes a bit more sense.
-Sarah
I'm going to pick a day every week, Thursday or Friday depending on when I'm off, and just lock my door and tell everyone to fuck off. Except Cancer Boob, I guess. Cancer beats tired granddaughter any day. It's like rock beats paper but it makes a bit more sense.
-Sarah
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
The Porn Is At The Bottom Of This Depressing Shit
I don't mean to go all serious on my audience of nobody, but I'm having a bad day. If someone should somehow stumble upon this blog while looking for porn, please know that the porn is at the bottom.
I've been at the hospital for almost 8 hours now while my Non (grandma) is in some dark and mysterious room having her boobs stabbed I can only presume. (That could be construed as a bit pornish if you're into freaky grandma hating stuff.)
If I was the one in the hospital, I think it would be better, because I'm an optimist and I have the ability to make anyone worried about me go bat-shit crazy with my attitude of complete disregard for any problems I'm having.
Non is the one in the OR though so she's freaking out about cancer boobs and I'm stuck up here trying not to cry because everyone knows that if I'm freaked out, it's bad.
The cancer's not that bad and she just had a lumpectomy a few hours ago but since then they found cancer in her lymph nodes and had to take out the rest of them and I'm not going to know if she's got cancer elsewhere until god knows when the lab sends back the report and now the doctor has given me the job of telling her about it since she was passed out before and if I act nonchalant it will sound like I don't care but if I'm sad with her then she'll break down and I have to see her in a few minutes and I don't know what to do!
I'm tired and I'm not thinking right and I'm afraid I'll do the Robin Hood Men In Tights thing and laugh in appropriately while relaying bad news and have her go what the hell are you laughing about.
Ugh. Ok, there's no porn. I know, I suck. Just not in a good way.
-Sarah
Update: I went in there and I was a total badass and didn't look sad at all and made it sound positive and I was really uncomfortable the whole time. Then I broke down in my car because I wanted to talk to my dad and I remembered that we aren't speaking to each other and that made me even more depressed.
Update Again: When I got home I found out that Mom was taking my 3 year old sister to the ER because she's been having problems pooping and abdominal pain and my friend Lynda wants me to get her and her new baby from the hospital tomorrow. Too many hospitals...
Another Update: Lynda's having her husband take her and the baby home so that's one down and my sister came home last night with a diagnosis of too much poo in her intestines, enema and laxatives recommended, so that won't be fun but that's two down. I haven't been able to reach Non but she's probably asleep. I'll get her later.
I've been at the hospital for almost 8 hours now while my Non (grandma) is in some dark and mysterious room having her boobs stabbed I can only presume. (That could be construed as a bit pornish if you're into freaky grandma hating stuff.)
If I was the one in the hospital, I think it would be better, because I'm an optimist and I have the ability to make anyone worried about me go bat-shit crazy with my attitude of complete disregard for any problems I'm having.
Non is the one in the OR though so she's freaking out about cancer boobs and I'm stuck up here trying not to cry because everyone knows that if I'm freaked out, it's bad.
The cancer's not that bad and she just had a lumpectomy a few hours ago but since then they found cancer in her lymph nodes and had to take out the rest of them and I'm not going to know if she's got cancer elsewhere until god knows when the lab sends back the report and now the doctor has given me the job of telling her about it since she was passed out before and if I act nonchalant it will sound like I don't care but if I'm sad with her then she'll break down and I have to see her in a few minutes and I don't know what to do!
I'm tired and I'm not thinking right and I'm afraid I'll do the Robin Hood Men In Tights thing and laugh in appropriately while relaying bad news and have her go what the hell are you laughing about.
Ugh. Ok, there's no porn. I know, I suck. Just not in a good way.
-Sarah
Update: I went in there and I was a total badass and didn't look sad at all and made it sound positive and I was really uncomfortable the whole time. Then I broke down in my car because I wanted to talk to my dad and I remembered that we aren't speaking to each other and that made me even more depressed.
Update Again: When I got home I found out that Mom was taking my 3 year old sister to the ER because she's been having problems pooping and abdominal pain and my friend Lynda wants me to get her and her new baby from the hospital tomorrow. Too many hospitals...
Another Update: Lynda's having her husband take her and the baby home so that's one down and my sister came home last night with a diagnosis of too much poo in her intestines, enema and laxatives recommended, so that won't be fun but that's two down. I haven't been able to reach Non but she's probably asleep. I'll get her later.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Nice Tits, Grandma!
I told my Non today that she had very nice tits for an old broad. She was unsurprisingly flattered. My family's a bit odd.
-Sarah
Update: I guess I shouldn't have told her that because since her lumpectomy she's been flashing everyone. Seriously. So far she popped her breast out for both my sisters and myself, my mom, and some chick named Carla she met yesterday. And that's just that I know of.
-Sarah
Update: I guess I shouldn't have told her that because since her lumpectomy she's been flashing everyone. Seriously. So far she popped her breast out for both my sisters and myself, my mom, and some chick named Carla she met yesterday. And that's just that I know of.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
20 Minutes of Space Madness
I am currently in the final 20 minutes of an 18 hour shift. Just 20 more minutes and I can finally go home and have a short coma. Just 20 more.
I read something once written by fake astronauts, the saddest kind of astronauts, who as part of an experiment were put into a five year (?) simulation of a space mission. The scientists studying them had all sort of evidence that when incidents occur where astronauts go bonkers it was always on the last leg of the journey. The final 20 minutes, so to speak.
God help me.
-Sarah
I read something once written by fake astronauts, the saddest kind of astronauts, who as part of an experiment were put into a five year (?) simulation of a space mission. The scientists studying them had all sort of evidence that when incidents occur where astronauts go bonkers it was always on the last leg of the journey. The final 20 minutes, so to speak.
God help me.
-Sarah
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sleep Deprivation for Wimps and Old Ladies In Their 20's
I'm such an old lady.
It's 11:21 PM and I get off work in... 39 minutes and I just want to go to SLEEP. I would have been in bed at 8 PM if I had anything to do with it. My eyes are sleepy, damn it. I have to get up at 6 AM to take my Non* to a stress test that I already took her to once. So yeah, my Non is conspiring against sleep. And work. They conspire against sleep too with that CPR class at 7 AM and the shift that ends at midnight. (I might be partly responsible for that one...) Still, it's one big freaking conspiracy.
Obviously I'm too tired to be funny right now.
Oh, but let me tell you about my crap day that contributed to the old lady tiredness of this one.
In a period of less than 6 hours I somehow managed to smash the glass in my curio cabinet while rushing out the door, freak out because I have NO idea how to fix something like that, pick up my Non late, drop her at her first doctor's appointment of the day only to find out it was the wrong day and they can't fit her in, swing back to get her while trying to put jelly on a sausage biscuit and not crash, attempt to be productive by hitting the grocery only to have a jar of marinara sauce roll out of my cart and SPLATTER all over the damn place, including on me and my lovely new Nike's, and get to her second appointment to find that the doctor WASN'T EVEN THERE! How does that even happen???
I wound up going home and trying to do absolutely NOTHING that I could fuck up for the rest of the day.
-Sarah
PS: 27 minutes left.
Translation: Non = My Crazy Ass Grandma
It's 11:21 PM and I get off work in... 39 minutes and I just want to go to SLEEP. I would have been in bed at 8 PM if I had anything to do with it. My eyes are sleepy, damn it. I have to get up at 6 AM to take my Non* to a stress test that I already took her to once. So yeah, my Non is conspiring against sleep. And work. They conspire against sleep too with that CPR class at 7 AM and the shift that ends at midnight. (I might be partly responsible for that one...) Still, it's one big freaking conspiracy.
Obviously I'm too tired to be funny right now.
Oh, but let me tell you about my crap day that contributed to the old lady tiredness of this one.
In a period of less than 6 hours I somehow managed to smash the glass in my curio cabinet while rushing out the door, freak out because I have NO idea how to fix something like that, pick up my Non late, drop her at her first doctor's appointment of the day only to find out it was the wrong day and they can't fit her in, swing back to get her while trying to put jelly on a sausage biscuit and not crash, attempt to be productive by hitting the grocery only to have a jar of marinara sauce roll out of my cart and SPLATTER all over the damn place, including on me and my lovely new Nike's, and get to her second appointment to find that the doctor WASN'T EVEN THERE! How does that even happen???
I wound up going home and trying to do absolutely NOTHING that I could fuck up for the rest of the day.
-Sarah
PS: 27 minutes left.
Translation: Non = My Crazy Ass Grandma
I'm Bringing Sexy Back
Usually I'm pretty stingy about buying myself things but last week I realized that I'd been pining for this perfume called Prada Candy for about 6 months so I finally broke down and bought it. And now, I SMELL SEXY YA'LL!!! I can't stop smelling myself and I'm at work and it's starting to get a little weird. I've managed to refrain so far from sniffing my wrists in front of the ladies but I'm doing this creepy deep breathing thing and I've only just managed to restrain myself from sicking my wrist in Tangie's face and yelling, "SNIFF ME!"
I'm sure that sort of behavior would be frowned upon. People love to complain via letters in my office. I can just imagine the notes slipped under my boss's door.
Chief Johnny,
I am writing to inform you that Sarah has been harassing me in the workplace and that this office has lately become a hostile work environment. (People love that phrase.) She has been breathing very loudly and yesterday she made me smell her. She smelled fantastic, but still. (It's true.) This is completely unsuitable for the workplace and I would like you to have a talk with her. Please keep my name out of it as I would hate for her to retaliate against me. (I'm too nice to do that. For reals.)
-Terrified Coworker (It'll be ok.)
-Sarah
I'm sure that sort of behavior would be frowned upon. People love to complain via letters in my office. I can just imagine the notes slipped under my boss's door.
Chief Johnny,
I am writing to inform you that Sarah has been harassing me in the workplace and that this office has lately become a hostile work environment. (People love that phrase.) She has been breathing very loudly and yesterday she made me smell her. She smelled fantastic, but still. (It's true.) This is completely unsuitable for the workplace and I would like you to have a talk with her. Please keep my name out of it as I would hate for her to retaliate against me. (I'm too nice to do that. For reals.)
-Terrified Coworker (It'll be ok.)
-Sarah
Sunday, April 29, 2012
I Just Want To Wear a Live Alligator As a Scarf
My Mom and her husband and my 3 year old sister just got back from Mexico and wanted to tell me about their trip, which was awesome, but I went to New Orleans for the weekend and I REALLY wanted to tell them all about that but I couldn't get a word in edgewise...
... so now I'm laying in bed thinking about how I wanted to tell them about alligator skin and how weird it is and how when they sell those awful gator heads in the gift shops they're all scaly and rough to the touch...
... but when I got to touch that live 2 ft alligator it had the most AMAZING skin that was like silky and magical and cool and warm all at the same time...
... and I really just want to be able to pet a live alligator all day like how the super villains in movies pet fuzzy white cats, except with an alligator which would be SO much more badass!!! And dangerous. Because that's how I roll.
I was going to post a picture of me holding the gator but I look like a grinning idiot in that shot, because alligators feel THAT crazy awesome so I'm just going to keep that one to myself.
Also, I'm aware that that was all one run on sentence. I broke it up to make it less obnoxious. I probably failed. So it goes.
Good Night,
-Sarah
... so now I'm laying in bed thinking about how I wanted to tell them about alligator skin and how weird it is and how when they sell those awful gator heads in the gift shops they're all scaly and rough to the touch...
... but when I got to touch that live 2 ft alligator it had the most AMAZING skin that was like silky and magical and cool and warm all at the same time...
... and I really just want to be able to pet a live alligator all day like how the super villains in movies pet fuzzy white cats, except with an alligator which would be SO much more badass!!! And dangerous. Because that's how I roll.
I was going to post a picture of me holding the gator but I look like a grinning idiot in that shot, because alligators feel THAT crazy awesome so I'm just going to keep that one to myself.
Also, I'm aware that that was all one run on sentence. I broke it up to make it less obnoxious. I probably failed. So it goes.
Good Night,
-Sarah
NaNoWriMo for Those of You Who Speak Klingon
Ok, so...
I want to write a book. November is National Novel Writer's Month. But it's April, and by November I will have either forgot about it or I'll be sitting at my computer staring at a blank screen thinking WHAT DO I DO??? and DAMN YOU STEPHEN KING! and other things... So I think I'm just going to use this blog as an excuse to write and get ideas and discover what to do as soon as November comes. Yeah, that sounds good.
You know, November is an awful month to try to write a novel. There's Christmas shopping, Thanksgiving obligations, and turkey comas to dodge and that's just off the top of my head. Why not August? Then it's too damn hot to go outside and there are no holidays so you can hunker down with an A/C unit and your laptop and get to scribbling. Except it's a laptop so that doesn't work. Typing would be better. Don't scribble on your laptop.
January too. That would be an excellent month to write a novel. Read that last bit about August over again except replace hot with cold, A/C with heater, and you're good to go.
I'll leave it for now but I'd still like to know how November got picked...
I want to write a book. November is National Novel Writer's Month. But it's April, and by November I will have either forgot about it or I'll be sitting at my computer staring at a blank screen thinking WHAT DO I DO??? and DAMN YOU STEPHEN KING! and other things... So I think I'm just going to use this blog as an excuse to write and get ideas and discover what to do as soon as November comes. Yeah, that sounds good.
You know, November is an awful month to try to write a novel. There's Christmas shopping, Thanksgiving obligations, and turkey comas to dodge and that's just off the top of my head. Why not August? Then it's too damn hot to go outside and there are no holidays so you can hunker down with an A/C unit and your laptop and get to scribbling. Except it's a laptop so that doesn't work. Typing would be better. Don't scribble on your laptop.
January too. That would be an excellent month to write a novel. Read that last bit about August over again except replace hot with cold, A/C with heater, and you're good to go.
I'll leave it for now but I'd still like to know how November got picked...
Accidental Racism and My Nom De Plume
Dear Nobody,
I have a lot of really great stories, but legally I'm not allowed to tell some of them. So let's see what happens.
-S
Wait, I just realized I want a pen name. Hmm... I could do my Indian name... (Native American for those who are PC and those who thought I was talking about actual citizens of India.)
SheTalksToDipshits
SheBlamesTheCat
SheLaughsInnapropriatey
Do they have to start with She? Hold up, I'm googling this...
Ok, so apparently I got fooled by my childhood knowledge of The Tale of Blue Bonnet and was way off. I found a list of 2000 names and almost NONE of them were like this. The only exception was Sheshebens which means "little duck". I don't think they were using it the way I was though.Well that's out.
I think I'll stick with my name for now.
I have a lot of really great stories, but legally I'm not allowed to tell some of them. So let's see what happens.
-S
Wait, I just realized I want a pen name. Hmm... I could do my Indian name... (Native American for those who are PC and those who thought I was talking about actual citizens of India.)
SheTalksToDipshits
SheBlamesTheCat
SheLaughsInnapropriatey
Do they have to start with She? Hold up, I'm googling this...
Ok, so apparently I got fooled by my childhood knowledge of The Tale of Blue Bonnet and was way off. I found a list of 2000 names and almost NONE of them were like this. The only exception was Sheshebens which means "little duck". I don't think they were using it the way I was though.Well that's out.
I think I'll stick with my name for now.
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