Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Fiction 500

So I'm absolutely thrilled - my short story has been posted over at Fiction 500! The site itself is the brain-child of the Badass Geek. Basically, it's a collection of short-stories that are all under 500 words.

It's tougher than it sounds. Fleshing out a story in a measly 500 words is proving to be an interesting challenge.

So, if you're interested, go on and click that little button to the right labeled Fiction 500. Go on...dooo it.

Or you can just click on the link below :)

Happy readings!

Fiction 500

Sunday, December 20, 2009


It's cold outside.

I'm sitting here in my chair, exhausted after the month from hell, looking out the window. The snowplow has piled the snow up in huge piles (although, those from the north would probably laugh at how much us Delawareans are panicking), and it's actually kind of pretty. In a frigid way.

Of course, I had to work yesterday and today. State of emergency? Pft. People need their pet food!

So I'm sitting here, with a billion and one ideas to write about. I could write about the funeral. I could write about Bug, and what an amazing person she is. I could write about Rusty, Lili, or the dog that I want to get. I could write about social justice. About common courtesy. About my thoughts and feelings and ideas for the future.

I could write about any number of things, and yet I won't - because I am too emotionally exhausted to do any of those topics any sort of justice.

My mother forced requested that my father go to the store to pick up eggs, milk, and bread.

I don't understand why people rush out to get these three ingredients. I mean...what are people making with this stuff? French toast?

And so I'm here. I'm contemplating building a fire - there's something about the crackling warmth of it that just cheers me up (yes, I fully admit to my pyro status). Hell, there's something about just sitting down with a throw blanket and a hot cup of cocoa and curling up with a good book.

Or, in my case, season one of Lost (which I've recently gotten hooked on).

So, World, how have you been?

Saturday, December 12, 2009


Warning: bitchy, angsty, whiny post ahead. Read at your own risk.

So, I realize that it's already December Twelfth, and I will admit it - I've been neglecting my blog. And my Christmas shopping. But eh.

I have a very good reason for this.

The month of December (and, if I'm being honest, probably the last half of November) has been absolutely crap-tastic.

First, my best friends dogs die. Both of them. Within a month of each other. Then, I had to deal with all sorts of work drama (well...more work drama than usual). I just noticed that my once-best friend (who, for some inexplicable reason, stopped talking to me) is now engaged to her jackass of a boyfriend.

And then, to make matters worse, the woman who might as well be my second mother, was hospitalized for cancer. So that prompted all sorts of visits to the hospital, and awkward run-ins with the ex-boyfriend and his demon spawn wife.

Then I got sick - with both a sinus and an ear infection. Fantastic. This prevented me from visiting Bug (the woman who might as well be my mother), because...duh. They tend to frown upon sick people visiting. She was later moved to a hospice.

And then she died. Two days ago, to be exact (I, of course, never said my final goodbyes, because I've been stuck in bed trying not to suffocate myself). Her funeral is on Tuesday.

It doesn't take much to make me go all berserker - and I think I'm at that point. I haven't eaten in five days. I haven't left the house in five days, and I sure as hell haven't slept in five days. I'm pretty sure my boss is going to try to fire me because I keep calling out sick.

If anyone so much as gives me the stink eye at that funeral, I will jam my pointy high-heel up their asses.

On the upside, I've lost ten pounds. Apparently not eating for five days tends to make one lose the bulge.

Great. I'll be skinny in no time. Now I just have to figure out how to kill the little man that's poking the back of my eyeballs with an ice-pick.

funny pictures of cats with captions
see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Aunt Becky's publicity stunt

So, Aunt Becky's doing one of those aweful publicity ridden fantastic blog giveaway things. I figured that I'd enter it, because...

a.) She's kind of awesome (seriously, if you're bored with reading my crap and need something new to read, head on over to her place. You won't be disappointed), and

b.) I'm poor and in need of new reading material

So, she told all of us (her loyal minions readers) to answer a few questions in our blogs.

She also told us to open our whore mouths. Full of the love, that one.

Look, it's legit - she even made a button about it:

Mommy Wants Vodka

Let's get on with the opening of my whore mouth:

1) Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? Yes. And gummy bears. And chocolate chips. And cherries. My dentist hates me.

2) If you had to choose one word to banish from the English language, what would it be and why? I'm finding this one a bit difficult to answer. A word I'd want to banish? Huh. How about the word "Friskies." I'd say "Fancy Feast," but you said that it just had to be one word, and so I'm picking Friskies. I hate that cat food. WITH. A. PASSION.

3) If you were a flavor, what would it be? Cherry. Most definately cherry.

4) What’s the most pointless annoying chore you can think of that you do on a daily/weekly basis? Folding my underwear. I mean, really. What's the point?

5) Of all the nicknames I’ve ever had in my life, Aunt Becky is the most widely known and probably my favorite. What’s your favorite nickname? (for yourself) I don't have a nickname, really. My real name is Sara - it's kind of hard to shorten that. I was once likened to a Keebler Elf though....

6) You’re stuck on a desert island with the collective works of 5 (and only five) musical artists for the rest of your life. Who are they? Beatles - because...well...obviously. Nirvana, Ray Charles, Linkin Park, and Green Day. I think that just about covers a good portion of my musical cravings.

7) Everything is better with bacon. True or false? True. Absolutely true. Bacon is the reason I have a spare tire of fat banding around my thighs.

8 ) If I could go back in time and tell Young Aunt Becky one thing, it would be that out of chaos, order will emerge. Also: tutus go with everything. What would you tell young self? Shutup and stop whining - if you think this is bad, wait for what's coming!

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Rusty's Shenanigans

I remember the first time we tried to show Rusty. That's right, World, we showed our dogs.

In those prissy "run around the ring once again, please" shows. The ones that judge a dog's motion, gait, overall appearance, bone structure, personality, and so on and so forth. It was all a bit high-faluting for me, but I went anyways, because it was something my dad was interested in. Rusty loved being shown. Unfortunately for him, his personality wasn't exactly "show" quality.

He bunny-hopped around the ring. Whenever a judge went to touch him, his tongue lolled out and he'd squirm around trying to reach the judge so he could be petted. And, above all, he hated (with a passion) his handler (who also happened to be his breeder).

Hm, let me give you a few examples.

The first time he had even shown, we didn't know that we weren't supposed to feed him. Apparently, dogs get stage fright as well. Well...heh.

He peed on the breeder's leg. And then puked on her shoes.

Everyone was absolutely horrified (except for my sister and me - we were too busy laughing our asses off to be horrified). They had to postpone the show so they could clean up his mess. And that incident pretty much set the tone for Rusty's show career (which ended after a few short (or if you're the breeder, long) years). At less than six months old, my dog knew what was up.

I remember one show where he walked perfectly. Absolutely perfectly - he had the show in the bag. Guaranteed first place. But, in true Rusty fashion, he ended the last quarter of the show by bunny-hopping. All four paws left the ground. And then he stopped, and then ran out of the ring - with the breeder still attached to his leash. Her gorgeous pantsuit was ruined - green grass stains ran all down the front of it. Apparently that happens when one is dragged fifty yards behind a seventy-five pound dog (the little fences around the ring didn't even slow him - or her - down. He just jumped over them. She, unfortunately, went through them).

The judge was amused. The breeder? Not so much. We thought she was going to kill him that day.

My dog was a legend. People used to come to his shows not to see the competition, but because they wanted to see Rusty's antics. We were going to take him out of the shows, but he seemed like he was having so much fun.

And the breeder wanted to keep him in. She said he was an ill-mannered dog (wonder where she got that impression from?), and that she was going to fix him.

Ha. Needless to say, he won that particular competition.

That's my boy. Three years of showing and he has less than five ribbons, but many memories full of laughter. And, looking back on it now, I don't blame him one bit for hating the breeder. We got our other dog, Lili from her, at four months of age.

We later found out that the breeder's son beat dogs, and that Lili is the only puppy from her litter to survive. We, of course, had no proof (other than that she was terrified of men, and from what we had heard about the breeder from outside sources. The other puppies apparently died of an "infection").

My dad instead sued her for her breeding practices, won, and the AKC shut her down. She is no longer allowed to breed (although she does it anyways now under her husband's name).

Looking back on it now, I think Rusty knew what type of person she was. He never gave anyone as much shit as he gave her, and there have been a few instances where he's been an excellent judge of character. I wouldn't trust anyone he didn't.

My father used to bring Rusty with him to work. One day (after being suitably worshipped by the receptionist), Rusty was hanging out at a job site under the receptionist's desk. Well, in walked her boss, and Rusty growled - low and menacing. He came out from under the desk, and the next thing my dad knew was that the boss was backed into a corner, with our dog growling at him. Keep in mind here, Rusty was one of the most gentle natured and sweet dogs that most people have ever met (Lili was the mean one).

So, needless to say, this was unusual. My father grabbed Rusty, put him in his kennel, and once his work was done they left (the funny part about it is, all of the workers in the office came by the cage and gave Rusty treats after it had happened). A few weeks later my dad learned that the boss that Rusty had growled at had been arrested for embezzlement and spousal abuse.

I think that, sometimes, animals do know best.

Monday, November 30, 2009

One day at a time

So, Bug (my ex-boyfriend's mother) seems to be stable. We are all praying that she'll (somehow) make it through the holidays. According to one of her regular visiters, she has maybe two months left in her. I've made a decision.

I'm not going to mourn her before she's gone. I'm going to take it all one day at a time, and hope like hell that somehow I'll still have some sanity left by the end. I'm going to try to visit her everyday.

It's the very least I could do for a woman who, almost singlehandedly, managed to bring me out of a deep and dehabilitating depression. I would do anything for her.

So, blogging world, I may touch on the subject in future posts, but because I'm not going to engage in preemptive mourning, I'm going to move on.

I think I'll tell you about happier times. I'm afraid that life right now kind of sucks - not just because of Bug, but also because of work.

You know that work had to figure into my bad mood, right?

Not to go into any details (because you never know who out there could be reading this), but there's a serious managerial problem at our store. Our assistant manager has been fired unfairly. The backlash from it (and years of upper-managment screwups) has been pretty severe.

That and my best friend, my sounding board, my emotional support has died at the ripe old age of eleven. Rusty is now among the deceased.

All of this adds up to Nyx in a pretty bad mood that rivals even the pissiest PMSing gorilla.

So yes, look forward to many stories about happier times, back when none of this existed and life was as simple as life can get.

Thursday, November 26, 2009


Today is Thanksgiving. A day of joy, happiness, and above all, a day where we can all be thankful for what and who we have.

These words have never been truer.

Today my ex boyfriend called me. And today he informed me that his mother, a woman who I consider to be almost a second mother to myself, is dying. From stage four lung cancer. The doctors said that she had two days to two months to live.

He was crying to me on the phone. Somehow, a simple "I'm sorry" can't even begin to cover it - I sat there and listened as he told me about how he didn't know what he was going to do without her, about how much he loved her, about how he had to explain to his boss what had happened and how he's not quite sure how he's going to tell everyone else. I have never had to comfort anyone like this before.

I am speechless. Something so rudimentary as language cannot even begin to describe the overwhelming emotions I feel coursing through my body. She was there for me after we broke up - he was my first boyfriend and I was devastated when we broke up. She told me that I'd get over it, and she was right - I did. She brought me back to my religion, and helped me develop my moral compass. She's always been there for me, for almost six years now. She's seen me go through boyfriends, listened to my rantings about the injustices of the world, watched as I've become the person I am today.

What do I do?

I can't do anything. I'm still reeling from the death of my dog - arguably my best friend - a few days ago. And now this. This isn't something I can fight. This isn't something that I can win against.

This is cancer.

I will go and visit her tomorrow morning in the hospital. I'm not quite sure what is going to happen. She's pretty out of it, from what my ex has said.

For those of you out there that are religious, I ask of you one thing: please pray for her. If the Lord deems it necessary to take her from us now, then so be it. But a little prayer never hurt anyone. I'm sorry that my postings have been a bit sporadic lately, but I'm emotionally drained. What's worse is that everyday I have to paste on a happy face and act as if nothing is wrong.

Somehow, I think that doing that is going to be a bit more difficult tomorrow.

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Back Aches and Swindling

Very Random Post Ahead!

There is a little man who is living in my spine at the moment. He's running up and down, playing my vertebrae like they're some sort of xylophone, and every once in a while he grabs his little ice pick screwdriver and jams it between vertebrae and twists. I think he's trying to tune me. It hurts. He's been there since yesterday, but yesterday it wasn't nearly half as bad as it is now.

Why does it hurt so much? Because I'm a glutton for punishment.

So I woke up early today to go to work with my kids. I've been pretty psyched for this - we've been planning to do a service weekend for a while with the teenagers at my parish, but we've been rained out until now. I used to be highly involved with the youth ministry (see my post here), and I've missed it very much. Well, I don't miss the bullshit and drama that certain higher-ups may or may not have created, but I do miss working with my kids.

So I wake up at the ungodly hour of seven (urk...I am not a morning person, especially not after partying the night before), somehow manage to do what's necessary in the morning (shower, brush the teeth, try not to kill the dog as I trip over him...), and get my tush in the car and on the road. I make it to the church by the time we were all supposed to meet (a novel occurrence - anyone who knows me will tell you that I'm usually five to fifteen minutes everything).

And I arrived to...old people. And the two other adults that were scheduled to be there. None of our kids had shown up...none at all.

Yep. Lace covered grey-haired ladies' heads like ancient cobwebs as they sat in the pews and prayed. Father Neil stood at the back of the church, waiting for the music to key up so he could walk down the aisle. He gave me a slight disapproving look as we snuck into the church and made our way towards our chosen pew.

Mass proceeded as it should have, and still none of the kids showed. So we made our way to the house we were to work on for the day, figuring that even if it was just the three of us, we could at least make a dent.

Which leads me to why I'm a glutton for punishment.

In hindsight, moving those pieces of drywall probably wasn't a good idea. Nor the old furniture. Or the television(s).

I arrived at work today (yes, I went to work after engaging in the child labor camp wonderful service opportunity) practically crippled. I hobbled my way into work, hand on the small of my back and moaning pitifully about how awful I felt.

And then my boss told me she was run over today by a truck.

I think my thunder may have been stolen slightly. Although, I gotta say, she had a damned good story. Apparently she was at the farmer's market, and some bimbo ran her over. Literally.

She was walking out of the entrance of the farmer's market, and some lady drove by her. She looked over, and realized that the lady had stopped, and put her reverse lights on.

Unfortunately, my poor tiny little manager (she might weigh 100 lbs soaking wet and weighed down with a few bricks) barely had time to jump out of the way as the dumbass hit reverse with all the enthusiasm of a madman escaping zombies. Or a tween who's spotted free Miley Cyrus/Jonas Brothers/Taylor Swift tickets.

And why? Because she saw a parking space she wanted.

Ridiculous. She clipped my manager, then sped away. And you know what the kicker is?

She damn well knew what she did. She waved at my manager and mouthed the word "sorry" and drove away.


So she was in worse pain than I was. All night long we bothered our co-workers, begging for any painkillers they might have on hand.

On the upside, I almost made two hundred dollars in donations today. We're running our donation drive for a couple of the local no-kill animal rescues until Christmas, in the hope that we might be able to help them out a little bit. Our store gets no profit from this, and 100% of the proceeds are going straight towards the rescues. I'm just asking people to round up their spare change - if they buy an item for $1.49, then they could donate $0.51 towards the cause, and then pay $2. It's working pretty splendidly - I've already gotten over $500 so far (and that's just my doesn't include any of the other slaves worker bees).

Everyone at work rolls their eyes at me whenever it's donation time. I always look forward to it because a.) I'm fan-fucking-tastic at it, and b.) every dollar earned really does go towards helping an animal in need. A lot of the rescues now are really hurting for money because of the recession, and animals are getting dropped off in record numbers.

So, I hope that we can get as many donations as possible this year. Sure, I may remind some of a cracked-out cheerleader when this time of year rolls around, but mneh. I don't think I care very much, because every dollar earned is like a little mini-win for me - it means that one more animal might get the medical treatments that it needs. One more animal might be able to be adopted out faster. One more animal might be given a life that it was previously denied.

I would also like to give a special shout out to Twinkles, my co-worker's (Pumpkin) fiancee. He was an awesome sport and bought one of our calenders (yes, we're selling calenders and sweatshirts and tee shirts this year for the rescues). He, of course, told me I was swindling him. Pumpkin tried to convince him that they could use some of the coupons in the back of the book.

He glared at me as she mentioned wanting to get a new fish tank stand for a bigger fish tank.

Whoopsies. Sorry there Twinkles. It's all for a good cause...heheheh....

Monday, November 16, 2009

Picture Monday

The majority of this week's Picture Monday pictures come from Martha's Vineyard. I was blessed enough to be the Maid of Honor in my friends Sarah and Sean's wedding this past summer. The only exception is the last photo, which was taken on the way to Buffalo last week.

I know I know...the horizon line isn't perfectly straight. I like it that way. I also particularly like the way the perspective element that the pier provides, and the way the flowerpot starts it.

It was the last night of my trip, and I decided to go see what I could capture with my camera. Someone had been having some sort of party, and the sounds of the guests drifted past my ears as I took this photo.
Ah...we partied all night long. I like this photo because it reminds me how drunk I got. And how much fun everyone seemed to have - I think that small intimate weddings are the way to go (unfortunately, I've resigned myself to a large wedding - my family is ginormous).

The bridal bouquets.

The promised picture. We were completely lost, and Pookie was all "er...I don't know where we are." My response? "Well how the hell am I supposed to know?"



Ok, so I may have recently been a bit hormonal and psychotically obsessed distraught over things that a certain friend of mine may or may not have done. If she's reading this, she knows who she is and what my feelings are on the topic (seeing as how I wrote a lovely angst-filled post about it). It's caused me to think a lot lately on the subject of friendship and what exactly a friend's purpose is.

This post will not be about that. I refuse to dwell on the subject any longer than necessary, and I've deemed it no longer necessary. Things and people change, including myself.

It'd be a boring world if it were static.

So, I'm rather cheery this morning. I think it's safe to say that the raging bitch inside of me is safely gone away to her little cubby hole only to return again next month.

My betta fish is looking rather cramped. I think that it's about time I set him up in a proper aquarium. I've been meaning to stick him in my R2D2 aquarium (what, you didn't think I was a geek? PFT!), but I haven't had the room to fit it anywhere. If I clear off the top shelf on one of my bookcases I think I can fit him there.

Maybe. The R2D2 aquarium looks like this:

Yea. It's full of the awesomeness. It retailed for $103.99.

I, of course, would never pay that price for it. I did what any self-respecting store slave employee would do.

I waited for it to go on clearance. And waited. And waited.

And wound up getting it for $13.

Oh. Yea. That was a happy day in Nyx-land. He's a neat lil' guy who moves his head around and has red, green, and blue LED lights.

I think that it would be a nice little tribute to a series that I grew up on (that and Indiana's all my dad's fault).

More pictures to come tonight! And I may even (gasp) put a picture of myself up!

Friday, November 13, 2009


I started this blog as a sounding board for my opinions, thoughts, ideas, and feelings.

Hence the title, Notions.

Well, I'm about to enter into very *depressing* territory here (at least, for me), so don't say I didn't warn you.

I feel as though my stomach has twisted in on itself. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to untwist it. There's this really big lump in my throat that won't go away. That's right...I think I might be a bit depressed.

See, I'm a bit PMS-y, which can and does throw my emotions off a bit. Usually everything is intensified (I can just feel all you guys out there who've had experience with this phenomenon wincing), and for all intensive purposes, sometimes I can go a bit apeshit.

Right now is one of those times. I recently logged onto facebook (I know I's the devil), and saw that one of my friends has unfriended me. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal to me. But...she was someone who I've always held in high esteem, and who I had once considered to be my best friend.

Granted, we don't really talk all that often anymore. And yea, I don't exactly agree with her choice in boyfriend material. We won't go there though, and I think I've been pretty good at not ranting about it anymore (may have had a few rough spots in the beginning of their relationship, but whatevs...I figured it was all under the bridge). But we still contact each other on and off, and I have some comfort in knowing that she is simply a phone call away if I need her. That is, at least, until last night.

Damnit, it hurts. She was my best friend once upon a time, and I like to think that we helped each other out in some pretty rough spots. I used to be able to tell her anything and everything, and not fear recrimination or judgement. She was like a sister to me.

I think that we began to separate when we both started to get different friends in college. She made a whole lot of friends that were within her major, and I made a few that were in mine. From what I understand, this drifting is pretty normal for people who enter into the insanity of college life. And drifting is normal, and I even expected it. Regardless, we've always been very friendly throughout the years.

So why now? Why has she chosen to eliminate all traces of me from her life? I don't think I've done anything to offend her. And if it were just a matter of her "cleaning house" as it were on facebook (that is to say, unfriending all friends who she hasn't spoken to in a while), then she would have unfriended a whole lot of other people as well...people she hasn't talked to since high-school. Instead, from what I gather, she simply unfriended both me and Pookie.

I don't know why, and that kind of kills me. And I'm sure a lot of this hurt is caused by the hormonal condition known as raging bitch syndrome PMS. But 10 years of friendship (ok, 8 if you don't want to count the recent years where we've just kind of contacted each other on and off) is a lot of years to just flush away without a thought.

So I'm in a bad place right now. I'm hurting, and I don't know how to make it stop.

I think I'll start with some chocolate, and go from there.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Buffalo, Pt. Two

I'm back!
I know all of you have been awaiting my return. Oh yes, gentle reader, I know that you have been anticipating this post with barely-contained anticipation. Just face it. My blog is the center of your world.

Right? Right.

Now that we've got that settled, let me tell you about my lovely trip to the land of Canada. canadian as one can get without actually leaving the country.

That's right! Buffalo! Home of the Buffalo wing, and beef on weck, and deep-fried cauliflower (incidentally, they have some of the best heart centers in the country).

The drive up wasn't too bad - we only had to stop for gas once. Woot.

I love my car sometimes (a 2005 Chevy's actually quite good on gas, surprisingly).

Seeing the slow agonizing death of millions of leaves has never been so beautiful before as we passed the scenic vistas of Pennsylvania and New York.

We hit some sleet on the way up (which led to me clutching the armrest and screaming in fear telling Pookie to please be careful with my baby car). Other than that, it was relatively uneventful (we plugged in Kathy Griffin's audiobook).

So we get up to Buffalo, and I met his grandmother for the first time almost first time.

See, she had attended his graduation, but due to circumstances beyond my control (drunken wicked witch of the west stepmother), I hadn't said more than a 'hello' to her. So this was almost my first time meeting her.

A few things struck me right off the bat about her. 1.) She was tiny. The woman is a midget, which is hilarious because Pookie is at about 6'5." 2.) She had a kick ass attitude. The woman's eyes lit up like she had just won the lottery when we mentioned that there was a bottle of Jack Daniels rolling around in the back of my car. She was so thrilled when we gave it to her at the end of our visit. 3.) She was Extremely catholic. Irish catholic.

I, of course, adored her.

We got along swimmingly. So when she suggested that we go the Basilica, I agreed. And I may have even enjoyed myself. And when we went to goodwill? I shopped the china. I even bought myself a cute little cordial glass (I love cordial glasses. Can't stand cordials, but I love the little petite glasses they are served in).

Pookie's uncle took us to go see the Sabres v. Flyers game. The entire time I was in Buffalo, I was getting shit for being a Flyers fan. His granny even gave me shit. But that's ok, because we beat Buffalo 5-1.

Ha. Take that, granny.

His uncle hooked us up with INSANE tickets - 7th row. I gotta say, I'm not much of an Emery fan (although, I wasn't a Biron fan either...I was a Nitty fan), but the Flyers put up a good defence and managed to score against Miller.

Although, if you know anything about hockey, that isn't all that much of an achievement. I'm pretty sure Miller couldn't manage to block for the pee-wee hockey teams that play at halftime.

Just sayin'.....

Anyways, we I had fun. After the game, we went to Duff's, which is arguably (or so I'm told) the best place to get wings in Buffalo. Sure, there's the Anchor bar, but I'm told that Duff's is where it's at. I've never seen chicken wings that big (here in Delaware (a major chicken supplier, for all you ignorant fools out there) we breed our chickens for breast size rather than wing size. Kind of like South Beach, but for chickens). MMMMMmmmmMMM.
And then, World, the trip started to take a turn for the worst.

That's right. Pookie got the swine flu. Oink oink.

I mean, me and his granny had a grand old time. We ate at Tim Horton's no less than five times during four days, and we discussed everything ranging from religion (I just don't understand why all these kids walk into the church with their jeans!) to Tim Horton's (You know, he was a hockey player) to family (let's just say that hints concerning marraige were dropped by Pookie's dear old granny. I pretended to be ignorant). Unfortunately, I didn't get to go to Niagra Falls, but I'm planning on going back when Pookie's feeling better, and then we can both go see the Falls.

Or, if he dies, then I'll just go by myself. Pretty sure Granny will let me stay with her. :)

The drive home wasn't so bad either. I mean, besides that time that I almost sideswiped the stupid little white Saab that some lady was driving.

She had the gall to get in my blind spot. Pft.

We made it home, safe and sound (and I got to sample the delicacies of pit stop cuisine).

So that was my trip to Buffalo.

So, the Garmin took us some really weird way down the road. I took the rainbow as a good sign.
I have an obsession about wind-energy. More specifically, the windmills themselves. I took no less than ten photos of these.
Ah, the Basilica. I now know Fr. Baker's entire life-history, and I got to see some pretty kick-ass statues to boot.
Yea. Our seats were *that* good. Be jealous.
Free beer never tasted so good.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Buffalo, Pt. One

So here I am in Buffalo, NY.

How did I wind up here? Well, Pookie came up to me a few weeks back and was like "Wanna go to Buffalo?"

I, of course, said yes. Hey, a free trip an almost free trip is so totally worth it.

Nevermind the milage it's put on my car :P

But it's seriously pretty up here. We're staying with Pookie's grandmother. She's kind of three shades of awesomeness. I know this because her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree on fire when we told her I had a bottle of Jack Daniels hidden in the back of my car.

We plan on going to Niagara Falls soon - I'm ridiculously psyched about this. It's probably because I have a thing for waterfalls and everything pretty and pristine and touristy. We're also going to bullshit around with his aunt sometime during this trip - he owes her a cosmo.

So I have all that fun to look forward to (along with, what I'm sure will be, a few totally awkward silences during the greetings. "Hello, this is Nyx, she's my girlfriend." *cricket*)

I'm not looking forward to the temperature though.

Buffalo is fucking cold!!!

And so here I am. Sitting on a couch, with Pookie's arm around me, watching a small 24 inch television that only gets about five channels on it, operating on a 5.5mbps speed connection (I'm pirating the internet from some poor hapless fool) in his very Irish-Catholic grandmother's living room. I will, after we are done watching canadian television, go to Grandma's spare room and attempt to sleep on half a futon (because the hell if I'm going to try to drag that thing out and then re-fold it. It's like some sort of twisted origami project).

And y'know what? I'm loving every minute of it.

So, that's it for now. I'll be back on Tuesday, so don't expect any updates until then. I'll even put up some pictures from the trip.

See you then!!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009


Yea. It's kind of like that.

This video is (obviously) not mine. I'm not that talented :P

Monday, November 2, 2009

Picture Monday!

This week's pictures come from Longwood Gardens again :) I've been in a pretty shitty mood, and looking at pictures of pretty things usually cheers me up, hence this week's selection. Enjoy!

Like it or not, Christmas is coming up. I love how all the stores just completely skip over Thanksgiving - I guess it's not as marketable.

So that's it for this week's Picture Monday!


Warning: morose and broody post ahead. You've been warned.

So this week has been very "blah." I'm going to Buffalo with Pookie soon, and am looking forward to the trip. I need something to snap me out of the mood I've been in the last few days.

I keep on trying to cheer up, but if I'm being honest with myself I'm still a bit sick from the H1N1. I don't think that I'm still contagious (Lord I hope I'm not), but a stuffy nose still remains, along with an annoying persistent cough.

Work has been sucking lately - we've got a new general manager who can't manage worth beans. I'm trying to give him a chance, but he's absolutely awful. His management skills absolutely suck. He's pitting my coworkers against each other by recruiting a few of them as "spies." I don't understand why he would think that appropriate as a manager, but whatever. He's just the latest in a long line of managerial fuckups.

Everyday I go to work, I have to think up excuses not to call out. Honestly, there's only two reasons I show up every day instead of calling out and using up my paid time off - it would be irresponsible for me to pawn off all of my work on my co workers, and I need the paycheck.

Day in and day out I show up, and I'm absolutely exhausted by the end of it. People have been slacking, and I don't know how the heck to get their bums in gear. It's not my job to get them working - I'm not a manager, just a worker bee.

So I'm job-hunting, as I have been since I got my degree. I'm trying like hell to find a job, but let's face it - there are just no jobs for people with no experience. I find myself competing with people who have five, ten, fifteen years experience, and kick-ass recommendations to boot. Pookie is in much the same boat as I am. It's rather disconcerting. I realize that having a diploma isn't a magical golden ticket to the wonderland of employment, but I at least figured that it would count for something. I guess not.

The only thing that I can do is keep on chugging and hope to hell I can find a job that will not only pay the bills, but that I won't absolutely despise either.

So, I'm sorry if my updates are a bit sporadic - I'm just trying to figure things out. I'm also participating in NaNoWriMo (an online writing contest), and so I'll be focusing a good bit of my energy there (I have to write about 2,000 words a day...and I'm already behind).

So, that's what's happening in the land of Nyx. I realize that this post isn't full of the humor and sarcastic wit (ha!) that I usually present, but honestly I just don't have the energy tonight. I debated about not posting this, but that wouldn't be right. Life's not all happiness and sunshine and rainbows. Life's full of the nitty-gritty, and sometimes it sucks. And sometimes it's just "blah."

Friday, October 30, 2009

Matsui and Needles

So, the Phillies lost game 2 of the World Series tonight.

It sucked. And I may (or may not) have thrown something at the television.

After all of that, I have one question.

How the fuck did Matsui hit that?! I mean, Jesus. It was so far out of the normal swing of things. Telekinesis, I say. Tele-fucking-kinesis.

Ugh. Ok. Now that I've got that out of my system....

I got my test results back from the lab today.

Positive for H1N1. Thank you test lab - it's so helpful for me to know a week and a half after contracting said disease that I have it.

Thank God my doctor isn't a nincompoop. She put me on the Tamiflu as soon as I complained, and it took care of me pretty damned well. I'm all better now! (mostly. If you ignore the hacking) So really, the test results do me no good at this point in time.

Well, that's not true. At least now I know I don't have to get the damned vaccine.

I have a *small* fear of needles. That is to say...I hate them. With an undying passion. You see, when I was a small lass (and by small I mean twelve) I had to get allergy shots.

I actually was ok with them...for a bit. And then the dumbass doctor kept on increasing the dosages - because they had to desensitize me. Ok, that's fine, I can get down with that.

And then he switched nurses. The new nurse (who, I'm pretty sure, was related to Hitler) never warmed up the fluid - she just injected it into me straight from the freezer.

Uh...OW? Bitch didn't give me a sticker either.

But ok, I can deal with that. It burned, but I kept telling myself that it was all for the greater, allergy-free, good.

They upped the dosages too high. On more than one occasion I broke out in hives as a result of the injections. And then they would decrease the dosage...and then start raising it back up. And then the hives would start again. Big, angry welts that were huge. That, coupled with the frozenness of it all....Well. It was all for the greater good, right?

Who cares if I left the office in tears because my arms WERE FUCKING BURNING LIKE HELL as the ice-cold liquid traveled through my veins. It was ok, because we were doing something, people! And for those of you who are thinking that it's just my 12 year old brain blowing things out of proportion, I promise you, it's not.

My mother (you don't mess with Mama-bear) interrogated questioned the nurses on more than one occasion about the welts on my arms. She also didn't understand why a child who was as hardheaded resilient as me would cry over something so trivial as an injection. I had never cried before for any other injections, after all.

They waved off her concerns and told her it was all for the eventual betterment of my "condition." ('s an allergy. It's actually a *lot* of allergies. I'd list them, but I don't want to put you to sleep. Just trust me on this)

It was like that once a week (one injection per arm) for two years. And then the dumbass allergist came up to me, and pronounced that the shots really weren't doing any good, and we should stop.

Uh. WHAT? Two years I endured that, and he couldn't have informed me of this sooner?

Oh, I was ticked. The experience has left me a bit...bitter.

So now I don't like needles. At all.

We're talking heeby-jeebies. I'm not as bad as some people (for instance, I don't scream and cry and moan about how aweful getting a needle is every time I see one), but if there's a way for me to avoid it, then you're damn sure I'll be exploring that option.

And before all ya'll start thinking that I purposefully contracted H1N1, think again. Even I'm not that crazy.

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

An Obsession

I have a problem.

I'm trying to come to grips with it. And I've done a pretty good job of resisting up until now.

I lost interest for a while, and didn't want much to do with it. I would go whole days without thinking about it. I guess life just kind of got between us.

But now it's back, and I can't stop thinking about it.

Daily, I think about it. I think about dragging it out of storage and running my fingers along the sleek shiny plastic, listening to the shudder click and seeing the image pop up on the tiny LCD screen on the back. I miss messing around with different aperature settings and white balance options, playing with the shudder speed and f-stops, seeing which ISO setting works until I get that *one* picture out of the hundreds I might take that makes the entire trip worth it.

That's right world. I'm a picture whore. I'll do anything to get my shot - including hanging upside down from a tree limb (true story). I used to take photos for our college paper, and I wasn't half bad (if I do say so myself).

So why'd I stop?

Well, work puts a damper on the available times I have to take my photos. And weather is most definately a factor - if it's pouring rain, odds are I'm not going to be shooting in it (I'm clumsy enough as it is, with my luck my camera would fall in a puddle or something). That and, honestly, other things have kind of taken precedence up until now.

Well. Enough of that. I think I might drag out my D70 and my lenses, and see what happens when I get better.

What kills me the most is that I was good. I was damn good. My specialties are kids and landscapes. I love taking pictures of kids (and yes, I realize how creepy that can sound...). There's just something wonderful in the innocence that a kid can portray on camera. Pure, unadultrated emotions shine through - they're not trying to hide their real selves behind a thin veneer of sophistication.

Nope. They're living life. The good, the bad, the ugly, the wonderful - the camera catches it all. I would show ya'll some of my work with kids, but I don't like plastering pictures of other people's kids all over the internet without their permission.

Note to self: draw up some release forms for potential subject's guardians. Try not to freak them out too much.

So I think I'm going to start taking more photos, like I used to. Those who know me are probably rolling their eyes right now and moaning about how I take too many photos now. Well, I do, but the majority of them are candids. I need to get back to my roots.

I'm even creating a Flickr account :)

So, if ya'll were interested in my photo-stream, you can find me under my s/n there - Nyxy1331

I'll still be doing Photo Monday, but the Flickr thing is just a place where I can dump all my photos and go through them and have some fun.

Have a good night ya'll!

Most my photos will be from my college years. This one only seemed appropriate to put up.

Monday, October 26, 2009

The Ramblings of a Swine Flu patient

Tonight's post is kind of just a mish-mash of stuff that's going around in my head at the moment. It's not really anything important, or especially hilarious. But I feel like writing, and my co-worker Pumpkin has been harassing me to update because her fiancee Twinkles needed story-time. He's probably wondering why I'm calling him Twinkles. It's because he's just so the opposite of everything the name Twinkles implies. So here I am, updating ya'll on what's going on with me at the moment.

So, I totally stole this from Cape Cod Gal's blog, Diamond in the Rough. It was so amusing to me, I just *had* to share. You're welcome.

Cock Shot from Invisible Engine on Vimeo.

Oh yes. The Cock Shot. Personally, I enjoy using my knee or foot, but think of the implications of this?

Got arthritis? No worries! Cock Shot has your back.

So, Beth over at The Confused Homemaker gave me my first ever award! Ok, she really gave it to me weeks a few days ago, and I'm just getting around to putting it up in its place of honor now, but ehhh....things happen. THANKYOU BETH! Rest assured, my inner media-whore is doing absolute somersaults.

So part of getting the award is having the fun of giving it to someone else. So, for the (untitled and unscripted but still freaking fantastic) award shown above, I'm going to give it to...(drum roll, anyone?)....

Aunt Becky from over at Mommy Wants Vodka. Because honestly, she makes me roll on the ground and clutch my sides in a desperate effort not to crack a rib from laughter whenever I read her blog.

Ah. Anyways. As some of you may know by now, I'm sick. Swine-flu sick, to be precise. I don't have a positive test yet (it apparently takes forever and a day to get the test results back), but this is not the case of a hypochondriac pretending to be sick to get out of work (no matter what you say Pumpkin).

Oh no. I wish it were the case. As it stands now I've probably managed to deforest an entire continent of trees with my tissue usage. I have a smoker's cough. I don't smoke. I'm vomiting and praying to the porcelain god toilet, and breathing has become a *bit* of an issue. I'm also being snappy with everyone because of the headache I've had for the last...four days. And did I mention the fever/chills? It's one hell of a good time kiddies! First, y'see, you get your temperature up to 103. Then, within an hour, it'll drop to 96. Doesn't that sound fun!? I feel shaken, not stirred.

I hardly ever get sick. Oh well...go big or go home, right? Heh. I'm chugging orange juice by the gallons, and sleeping far more than I should be (I'm giving the cat and my arthritic dog a run for their money).

Hopefully this thing will end soon and I'll be able to go back to hating my job plotting world domination delightfully assisting those in need of customer service. And I know Pookie will be relieved that I'm going to eventually stop bitching to him. Because, when I'm sick?

Yea. I make everyone around me miserable. I don't intentionally do it. It just kind of happens. Mostly. Sort of. Ok, fine, I know damn well what I'm doing. I have no remorse over it though, because when I'm sick I turn into a raging bitch. I'll probably feel bad later. Y'know, when I'm back to normal. normal as I get.

Tuck (my one bird...see here for the full story) has figured out that if he sticks his little birdie head under the door that's above his food cups he can open the cage.

Great. Ash (the other budgie) knows how to open the big door (I tie that one shut). Guess I'll be fastening all the doors of the cage...*sigh* silly me for thinking that they wouldn't figure out the other ones.

It's ok. If he keeps doing it I'll just feed him to Rusty.

Picture Monday!

So here's another round of Picture Monday. This week's round of photos are some more from Oak Island, North Carolina. Enjoy!

I don't know these people. I just thought that it was a touching scene.

This picture almost made the drive through Hurricane Charlie worth it. Almost.

Sunday, October 25, 2009


So I was sitting here, reading the news, until I came across this little tidbit:

Man stuffs mouth with 16 cockroaches in record bid
Sun Oct 25, 12:37 pm ET

LANSING, Mich. – A Michigan pet store employee got himself a mouthful of cockroaches — on purpose. The Lansing State Journal reported Sean Murphy on Friday stuffed 16 Madagascar hissing cockroaches into his mouth. He was trying to set a new Guinness World Records mark and said the old record was 11.

Murphy initially got 12 squirming cockroaches into his mouth, but then kept adding them until he got to 16. He says it was a "big surprise" since he's never fit that many in his mouth before "in one try."

The employee of Preuss Pets in Lansing says each cockroach was at least 2 1/2 inches long. Murphy says he might try for 20 next year. A video of the feat was posted on the newspaper's Web site.

Murphy's effort would need to be certified by Guinness for it to be official.


Information from: Lansing State Journal,

Thank you AP news, for that disgusting informative tidbit of news. War? Pft. Hunger and starvation? Ha! Who cares about that; there's a pet-store employee who can shove sixteen whole cockroaches in his mouth! Why do they even have this record in the first place....?

I hope the big boys over at the (mega million dollar chain) pet store I work at don't hear about this. I could see them whoring us out for a little free publicity. I had a rough enough time when I opened that box the other day from the janitor's closet....

You see, one of co-workers had asked me to go into the janitor's closet and grab her another box of bags. So I decided to be productive for once in my life, and help her out a little. I got the box, brought it up to the counters, opened it.

And tried to stifle the horrifying scream that wrenched its way up from the bowels of my heart.

Ok, it wasn't really a scream. More like a very small shriek.

That others happened to hear.

At least ten cockroaches crawled out from that box. TEN OF THEM. They crawled out and just kind of hung around. I swear the one winked at me as he cheekily twitched his antenna.

Fucking bugs.

I ran to go grab the nearest manager (Mario) and I forced him to inspect the box. Then I forced him to inspect the janitor's closet. I refuse to step foot in there alone ever again.

I can deal with the big cockroaches. Y'know. The giganto ones that everyone seems to be terrified of.

But the little ones? OH HELL NO. I felt like I had them crawling all over me for hours after opening the damned box.

Next time I go into that claustraphobic's nightmare of a closet, I'm making sure I give the little buggers plenty of time to scamper - away from me.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Gen Y

"It is always the students that make change happen."

These words were spoken by one of my professors in college. He was a visiting professor from South Korea who was equal parts brilliance and kindness. Ironically, as we sat in that sterile classroom waiting for him to impart some world-saving knowledge into our young and impressionable minds, I had been coming to the conclusion that Generation Y was a lost cause.

All around me there were people who were concerned with the world's problems - and then there were the disillusioned teenagers and young adults who were more interested as to when they were next getting laid.

It just didn't seem right. There we were - in college, in the prime of our lives. We had been granted a magnificent opportunity to further our education and knowledge of the world around us. We should have been ready to take on the world. We should have been able to voice our opinions and fight for equality for all, fight for environmental good, fight for the end to poverty, to war, to oppression.

So why didn't we?

Why don't we?

Throughout the years I've tried to find an answer to this. And I think I've found one.

We're so busy trying to fix our own shit we can't fix anyone else's.

Sad, but true.

Maybe in a few years we may be able to become fully fledged contributors to societal good. But for now, we're busy.

It's an egocentric viewpoint, I know. And I don't speak for everyone out there - I'm sure there's a few Gen Y'ers that are saving the world.

That said, there are a few things that we could do to make things a bit better out there. We may not be able to put in the volunteer hours that are required of a superhero, but we can do something.

We can stand up for ourselves, for one.

The voice of Gen Y seems to be rather muted and quieted these days. Why? Oh sure, we'll talk to our friends about it, but protest?! Pft. I once protested with a group of my college professors, and you know how many students showed up? Guess.

Three. Including me.

I don't understand why we're so apathetic to the world's ills. We sit and we bitch about how bad everything is, and yet we don't do anything about it.

Don't get me wrong - I've seen Gen Y'ers in action, and some of them are the most compassionate and productive people I know. But as a group, as a whole, we leave much to be desired.

Which begs the question....

What type of precedence are we setting for Generation Z?

Smarmy Saturday

So my Freaky Friday feature seems to keep on getting pushed back to Saturdays. So Freaky Friday has now changed into Smarmy Saturday. Woohoo.

I feel horrible. The doctor wasn't sure whether or not I have swine flu. Her response to my questioning? "Well, it could be swine flu. Or it might be something else."

Thankyou Doctor. Like I couldn't figure that out by myself.

Regardless, I now have a nice shiny new package of Tamiflu on the counter top downstairs. My body can't seem to make up its mind as to whether or not it wants to be hot or cold - I went from a 102 degree fever all the way down to 96.4 degrees.

That can't be good, can it?

So for Smarmy Saturday this week I decided to comment on some things that annoy the piss out of me. I'm usually critical as hell when I'm sick, so it fits my current mood.

1.) Miley Cyrus - When she stops stuffing her bra I may take her a little more seriously as an "artist." Or not. There was that whole pole-dancing fiasco a few weeks back....

2.) Swine Flu - Really, I don't see why everyone's panicking. It's a version of the flu. Get over it. Sure, people have died from it. But most of those people had compromised immune systems. That and I'm so freaking sick of hearing about it on the news.

3.) Small Unruly Children - Ok, listen mothers of the world. I understand that you've got a billion and one things going on in your lives. But I swear, if you don't get off your damn cell phone and stop your kid from pounding on the glass of our cages at work and terrifying my animals, I'm going to have to do your job for you. I don't think you want it to come to that.

4.) Banana flavored pudding - Yuck. Just...yuck.

5.) Homophobes - you may have seen my last post concerning gay marraige. Without going into too much detail, let's just say that the opposition kind of pisses me off. Everyone's entitled to an opinion, but when it harms people emotionally, spiritually, and sometimes physically then there's a big problem with it.

6.) Our new General Manager - yes, we have a new GM at the store. He's a lazy bastard. Thinks he's above actually "working." Pft...I give him about 3 months, maybe less, before he starts crying like a baby and decides to leave.

7.) Slow drivers - We won't go there. Let's just say that they sufficiently piss me off.

8.) Politicians - Stop being so shady and maybe the public would like you better.

9.) The Cold - Urk. I hate being cold, it's pretty intolerable for me. I get all shaky and shivery and my teeth clack. And then whoever I'm around at the time decides to be a genius and point out that my teeth are clacking. I'd move to someplace warm, but I still haven't won the lottery.

10.) Daytime television - I think this one speaks for itself.

So there ya have it...10 things that are presently annoying me.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

A few thoughts on gay marraige

Gay. Lesbian. Bi. Transsexual. Transgendered.

What do those words mean to you? I'm sad to say that before I met a girl a few years ago, I never really gave those words very much thought. Oh, I knew that "they" were out there - and I had met a few. I went to a Catholic high-school. If you were gay or lesbian you most certainly didn't talk about it, for fear of ostracism. Eventually my one friend from high school came out of her closet - however, by that point in time, I was distancing from her for other reasons. And so my first-hand experience with such things was minimal, at best.

I used to ride the public bus system to school every day back when I first started college. I would carefully select my seat in a location that would ensure that I wouldn't be bothered by any of the other passengers. Occasionally I'd have to share a bench with someone else when the bus got full, or I'd give my seat up for someone who was disabled or older. But usually I could just zone out and read a book, or work on an essay.

It was on that bus that I met Sarah. Bright red hair and pale features made her stand out as she would read her book. Everyday she took the same bus that I did, and everyday I would ignore her.

And then things changed.

She said hi.

I distinctly recall thinking that she must be insane.

So I said hi back and went back to reading. Somehow that initial encounter became a friendship.

We talked about many things on the bus system. Sometimes we chatted about the other passengers. Sometimes we talked about what we liked, and what we didn't. Sometimes we talked about the crazy ass bus drivers.

I remember that I asked her whether or not she had a boyfriend. She told me yes. I almost didn't hear her next sentence as she softly muttered it.

"Well, he's not exactly a guy. Merry's a girl, physically speaking." I looked at her, hard. I automatically came to the assumption that she was gay. I was ok with that - she was my friend. The girl who had come up to me on the bus and said hi and talked about silly inane things and important big things. We continued our friendship, and I met Merry - her girlfriend.

It wasn't until some time later that I understood the full implications of that conversation. Sarah and Merry opened me up to the possibilities. I didn't realize it then, but I understand now.

Sarah is not gay, nor is Merry.

Merry has since changed her name to Sean. Sean believes that he is a male that is stuck in a female body, and I (for one) believe him. I believe the term is transgendered. I think that he's looking into surgery options at the present moment.

Stranger things have happened.

Sarah was open enough to accept him and love him for who and what he is. I had the great honor of attending their wedding this past summer - after six and a half years of dating, they finally tied the knot. They have their ups and their downs, just like any couple. But they make it work, and their love is as real as any other that I've witnessed. I sometimes feel as if their relationship may be stronger than many heterosexual couples I know, since they've had to endure much ridicule and pain at the hands of the ignorant. They've been told that it must have been a "phase" that they were going through. That it wasn't real. They've had their relationship overlooked and dismissed (not just from strangers, but by family as well), just because they are (physically) two women.

However, the friends and family of many heterosexual couples I know act completely differently. Within a year of dating, usually hints concerning marriage will enter into conversation. Even if the relationship is not wanted, it is (at the very least) validated. None of my heterosexual friends have been told that their heterosexuality was "just a phase." Why would we make that assumption about others that do not quite fit our bill of normalcy? I don't know the answer to that question.

Of course, Sarah and Sean's marriage is not considered legal. For all of our talk about equality for all, we still engage in discriminatory and prejudiced practices.

Oh, right. We have civil unions. Let me tell you something about civil unions. It's not the same. The "separate but equal" stance didn't work for those who were "colored," and it won't work in this situation either.

Just face it. We're a prejudiced society.

Scream about it all you want. Tell me how it is considered as unholy. Tell me about how marriage was created for a man and a woman, and that's the way it is. Tell me how they're all going to hell, and how I'm going to be joining them. Tell me about how it's unnatural. Go ahead. Tell me. I've heard it all.

I don't care. The government has no business dictating who may and may not be married based off of religious views concerning marriage. Marriage is something best left to the churches, not the State. Only the most cowardly of hypocrites hide behind these reasons. It's not holy? Who are you to decide what is and isn't holy? Marriage was created for a man and a woman? Not that long ago, marriage was forbidden between whites and blacks. The rule was created with archaic viewpoints of society in mind. Besides that, what is the definition of gender? Is it physical or mental? Or both? We're all going to hell? Well...that's really not for you to decide anyways.

But that's just my view of it. I now have many other gay, lesbian, bi, and transsexual friends. Sean remains my only friend that is transgendered - however, I feel that this is only because to be transgendered is a very rare thing indeed.

So that's my viewpoint on it. Marriage (to me) is a sacred covenant between two people, witnessed by all and God. It's a promise to love, honor, and cherish. It's like you're telling the other person that even if they drive you nuts sometimes, you'll still love them. Even if you have to work at it - because marriage is work - you'll do it. It's also a sacrifice. You're giving up everyone else to be with this one person. And it's more - so much more. However, I cannot possibly try to sum up what marriage is into a few sentences. I am not, nor will I ever be, that good of a writer.

It's a promise that Sarah and Sean have made to each other, as well as countless other gay, lesbian, transsexual and transgendered people. And just because others out there may not see it as such, doesn't make it any less.

So that's what I think about that.

And thank you Sarah, for saying hi to me on that bus.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Picture Monday!

Picture Monday has arrived!!! Tonight's pictures will focus on my dogs. I know, I know. It's the stereotypical "aw look at my babies aren't they just the most precious things you have ever seen" post.

It's my blog. Deal with it. Unfortunately, we had to put Lili down recently - read more about that here. A part of my world cracked that day, and a good portion of that crack still remains, gaping and open and somewhat raw. My other dog, Rusty, also has cancer. I live with the knowledge that any day now we may have to make the decision to have to put him down - he's living on borrowed time as it is. That said, they have to die sometime. I recognize this - but it somehow doesn't make it any easier. They're more than just my pets - they're my best friends. My confidents. I realize that I may be sounding a bit melodramatic here, but that's the way it is with me and my animals.

They're family.

This is Rusty. He's such a good boy.

And this is Lili. She was very skeptical of the human species.

Rusty loves to roll around in the grass - he still enjoys this (he's 11 now). Of course, when he stands up, there's a nice big spot of crushed grass left behind, that inevitably winds up dying. So then we have a big bald patch that usually winds up being covered by clover. At least it's green...right?

This picture was taken a few autumns ago. She really was a good girl - just a little rough around the edges.

He's actually not that dumb, despite his appearances.

Lili trying to force dominate persuade Rusty to play with her.

The squirrel lasted approximately 30.5 seconds before being torn in two.

So there it is!

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Freaky Belated Friday

Yes, another week's gone by and I've missed the Friday deadline for this.

Le sigh.

Sorry folks. It's not that I'm forgetting about the blog - I promise I'm not! But I work nights, and we (again) got busy tonight. It was not a happy night for Nyx. I had to deal with yet another crazy cat lady (this one is one of my most hated customers, I've already spoken about her here).

So anyways, before I turn this into yet another drama filled post about work, I'll get on with this week's Freaky Friday.

This week features one of my favorite websites of all time - People of Walmart. It's a marvelous site.

Ok...So he looks like he belongs in a Right Said Fred video for the elderly. I'm...too sexy for my...teeth.

I will have nightmares about this tonight.

There should be a law against this. Indecent exposure or something. Anything.

So that's it for this week!

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Climate Change post

The following is a blog post about Climate Change for Blog Action Day '09. It is a day where bloggers unite and write about a common subject. Due to a computer malfunction (in other words, the computer decided to rebel and shut itself down a couple dozen times while I was trying to write this), my entry is a bit late to the game. Whoopsies.

It's cold out. It's really freaking cold out. Colder than a witch's tit. So cold that when I walked out to my car tonight from work, I could see my breath and feel my fingers start to go numb.

Yep. It was that cold. I think I'm going to have to break out the mittens soon.

We've gone straight from summer to winter, with maybe about three or four days for fall.

Dear Mother Nature: bring fall back. I miss it.

So, what does my yearning for fall have to do with climate change? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But, it did get me thinking about the climate (that and I signed up for Blog Action Day '09).

There are so many variables that can cause climate change. Solar flare-ups, orbital variations, ocean variability, the human influence, continental drift...there are almost as many culprits as there are cockroaches in an abandoned Twinkie factory. Pick whichever you want, I'm sure they all are responsible for the changing weather in some way.

From what I understand of it, the Earth goes through various periods of rest and regrowth.

Every 10,000 years or so the Earth goes through what is commonly referred to as an "Ice Age."

Guess what? We're overdue. At least, that's what the geological evidence suggests.

So I'm sure that that is contributing to the PMSing state that the weather seems to be in lately. Do I think that the world is going to freeze over tomorrow? No. The evidence seems to suggest that it will be a gradual change occurring over a long period of time. Scientists can't seem to agree as to what quantity that 'long period of time' is. Of course, the "evidence" is only as valid as the people presenting it. Ironically, Science is oftentimes subjective.

What's my take on it?

I think that the reason that the weather has been acting so insane lately is a combination of human and natural causes.

Do I think that we've totally managed to fuck up Earth beyond repair? No. Do I think that we can? Yes. Call me egotistical, but I think that humanity, if it continues on its present course of action (or rather, inaction) can and will destroy our planet.

Does this mean that I think you should rule your life by the so-called "green" movement? No. But I do think that there are a few things that we can do that would help reduce our negative impact. Simple things. Like recycling. Conserving water. Planting a freaking plant every once in a while. Looking into alternative energy sources. All of these little measures add up when everyone does it. It's like whenever I run register during a donation run at the store.

Instead of asking for a full dollar contribution towards (insert favorite animal charity here), I usually ask people to please round up their change.

I once managed to raise well over 1,400 dollars this way. In two week's time. Believe me, it adds up. The same way that changing just the lightbulbs in your house to energy saving ones can. The same way that shutting off that faucet while your brushing your teeth can. The same way that choosing to recycle cans and plastic bottles can.

Edward Everett Hale once wrote something that best sums up my take on how humanity can help Earth.

I am only one,
But still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
But still I can do something;
And because I cannot do everything
I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.

-Edward E. Hale

So ok. Write it all off as a bunch of hippie bullshit if you want. But facts speak for themselves. With so many other factors affecting Earth, do you really want to contribute to its demise? The weather will change, there's no doubt about that. And it will change no matter what we do - it's a natural process. But I think it's best if we don't fuck with it too much. Because, really, I'd like the Earth to be around for a while. Even if it's not going to affect me, it'll affect my great to the umpteeth number grandkids. There's already so many factors stacked against us - why would we want to contribute to that list?

Monday, October 12, 2009

Picture Monday

So I am still sick. I apologize for the lack of photos in this week's Picture Monday, but I'm too lazy sick to go out and take some. So, I'm going to show you a few I took a couple of years ago on Oak Island down in NC. They aren't the best, but like I said, I'm not exactly feeling chipper at the moment, and editing photos is the last thing I want to do right now.

I believe there is a little man behind my eyeballs. And he's dancing and playing with knives. He's feeling rather stabby today.

Sadistic bastard.

This one was obviously taken at an aquarium. I WANT IT.

We went out deep-sea fishing, and a few friends swam alongside the boat.

So there you have it. Next week I'll put up some better photos, I promise. For now...sleep.

Apples and Counting

I am sick.

No, not Ted Bundy type of sick. Nor Gacy. In fact, I'm not sick in the head at all (although I am often accused of such).

Nope. I've got that sore-throat, miserably stuffy, nasal congestion type of sick. And I swear, if any of ya'll accuse me of having Swine Flu, I will personally find you and Kick. Your. Ass.

I did everything I could to avoid it - including chugging a few gallons of orange juice and religiously taking vitamin C pills. I know, I know - the human body is supposed to just piss out extra vitamin C. I don't give a shit - my immune system is like a well-oiled machine (I rarely get sick), and I attribute that to my habit of overdosing on orange juice.

However, despite my OJ chugging, I have somehow become sick.

Go figure. Do I let this slow me down? Oh hells no. Like the viral cesspool that I am at the moment, I decided to go out and share with Pookie. He knew what he was getting into. I did warn him.

So now we can be sick together. We went apple picking today at the orchards. I may have ingested a few of their fucking amazing scrumptious apple cider donuts. Here's a couple of pictures! Of the orchards, that is...not of the donuts.

Somehow, the fact that the guy driving the tractor was wearing plaid and a beat up baseball cap made it all the more "authentic."

That's Pookie. I said something dumb witty, and he ran away screaming sauntered down the rows of red delicious apples, marveling at my humor.

So I had a lovely day of apple picking. You, dear reader, may have noticed that up til this point, this post has been lame devoid of any type of mentioning about that hellhole my chosen place of employment. Guess why?

Come'll get a cookie if you do!

If you guessed day off, you're wrong. Today was inventory day - so I didn't have to go in until six PM. My shift hours? Six PM to two AM. Yuck.

I was fortunate enough to miss last year's inventory day - a result of a horrifyingly scary car accident (we'll save that story for another day) that prevented me from driving at night for a year. I sure as hell heard the stories about last year's inventory though...oh boy, the stories.

We use a third-party counting company, and then we go back and re-check everything that they counted. It's boring work that a chimpanzee could probably accomplish.

Apparently last year's counters didn't have the intelligence of a chimpanzee.

It was, as my coworkers described it, fucking hell. So I geared up for tonight, fully expecting hell.

I was so ON TOP of everything, World! You would have been so proud of me. I got my dinner all together (cheap sub from Pathmark - because they're only $2.99), and I grabbed some of the apples and the fucking amazing apple cider donuts, and offered to share them with everyone. I even showed up early! Granted, it was only seven minutes early, but hey, that's better than my usual seven minutes late. I figured that I'd go in, and fix whatever the dumbass counters had forgotten, or missed, or just plain decided not to count.

My first sheet was not promising. I had to count the amount of flea and tick prevention - y'know, the really expensive stuff that actually works. Sometimes.

She missed 7 of our 6 month feline Frontline packs. That works out to approximately seven hundred dollars worth of stuff that was missed (and there's not even that much other stuff to count in the area). I figured I would be in for a long night, and me and Pumpkin (one of my most favorite co-workers ever) sighed in misery.

She said she reads my blog. Hi Pumpkin! (I have to admit, my inner media-whore did cartwheels at her declaration...the only other person that I know in real life that reads this is Pookie, and I think he just does it to humor me).

However, Pumpkin had work to do, so she waltzed off to go do her job.

I feel the need to interject something about the counters here. Whenever they can't figure out what an item is, they yell out "SKU check!" Ordinarily, this wouldn't be so bad. I can forgive one or two of these.

It was more than one or two, World. One particularly enterprising old bat young lady screamed it out at the top of her lungs, and I went over to help her. Apparently they get pissy if you don't show up promptly (wonder why...). She pointed to the item; I pointed to the corresponding label that was right beneath it. I think there was some comprehension in there somewhere, because she scanned it, grunted, and went back to work.


I got back down to business. With the exception of having to unlock a case for a woman (and hear all about how her mother has four dogs and how her husband was going to call the SPCA on her neighbor because her neighbor had his dog rigged up to an electronic fence but it was too damn dumb to move away from the boundary line, so it kept getting shocked, and blahblahblah...I guess it gets lonely counting for a living), I didn't have to do much but count.

Eventually I got to go on break, and I got to eat one of my perfect apples. I had what might be considered a Snow White experience. Except I didn't fall asleep, and there was no handsome prince (unless a toilet could be considered princely).

IT happened. That's right World - I'm about to talk about my gastro-intestinal issues.

I think I may have forgotten to wash some of that pesticide off, because about twenty minutes after I clocked back in from break I got an URGE.

I think you know what urge I'm talking about World. Uh-huh. It was bad. Note to self: SCRUB APPLES LIKE HELL NEXT TIME. Pumpkin asked me if I was ok - she said my eyes were watering. I'm not surprised with the way my stomach and intestines were suddenly clawing their way up my throat. Eventually, I did a quick little run to the bathroom (which I'm sure amused everyone in the immediate vicinity), and managed to avoid the disaster zone that my pants would have become had I not heeded the call.

I went back to counting.

And then realized something.

I was counting, fully expecting the counters to be wrong. Every time I would "ah-ha!" at the countsheet, and then double-check myself, I would be the one that counted wrong. Apparently counting skills passed by me in kindergarten, along with manners.

The counters this year did have the intelligence of a chimpanzee! And more! They freaking rocked it. We were out of there around 11:30PM, which if you compare that to our original 2AM deadline is pretty damned spectacular.

So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you counter people, for making my night drama-free and short. Thank you for not assaulting my ear-drums with whining about how much you hate your job. Thank you for not getting fired.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an apple to eat. Hopefully I'll have better results this time.