The Bright Guest Disappears

Stacy Campbell died at the worst possible time.**

Wow Kat, you don’t write  a post for two years – with the exception of two end of the year recaps – and you jump right into that? What a fucking “return”.

Yes, well, a return is also based on investment, and in this case the investment of time has created a poor return. (And while I’m at it, I love my penchant for using numerical alliterations despite being dyslexic.) But anyway. If you don’t know what the hell I’m talking about then we’re on the same page; I’m writing this shit and I don’t even know what I’m talking about.

No, that’s not exactly true. I unfortunately know exactly what I’m talking about, but it makes the dinner guest feel better if you volunteer that the meal is terrible.

Eat up, and please be assured that I hate the fare as much as you.

Stacy 1Stacy Campbell died at the worst possible time, but it apparently was her time – on her own time. Her official last day in this world is September 16, 2015, but the actual date isn’t known for certain. I can’t help but wonder if she didn’t actually pass on September 15th. I wonder this because Stacy had the most ironic sense of humor, and it would be so her to take her life on National Suicide Awareness Day.

And, as is the case whenever someone takes their life, I’ve being wrestling with that question of “why?”.

I know the answer, but I don’t understand it. And I hope that I never do understand it. I think that “why” is in itself part of the reason that I’ve been as frantic to figure out what made her reach that point as I have.

I’ve been low, and I’ve had those thoughts of the world being a better place without the burden of me and my insanity. I’ve also been to that point where everything hurts and you don’t want to end your life so much as you just want everything to just stop fucking hurting. I understand that pain so much that I cannot be angry at her for wanting it to end. I just wish I knew what I could’ve said to make her hold on a little longer, and that I could’ve been there to say it to her. I wish I could’ve told her that she’s not alone, and then I would’ve pointed to all of the people who have written on her Facebook wall saying how much she meant to them. The Interwebz can be good like that sometimes.

But then that very thing, the ability to connect to other people who understand your pain – the pain that “normal” people do not – is a double edge sword. I know that unless you battle mental issues you might not understand this, but people with our – ahem – affliction tend to gravitate to each other. We want to help each other, to assure each other that there are people who understand, that they are not alone. It helps, but at the same time I feel that our exclusive community of the tortured and the tested ends up being a macabre game of Russian Roulette. With so many players we’re bound to lose someone eventually. Depression comes in ebbs and flows, and everyone comes to a time when it’s their turn to pick up the gun. Thankfully the odds are in our favor. There are five empty chambers – family, and friends, and Faith, and life, and you, and anything else you value – they outnumber that single bullet. And life goes on… But people with depression identify and lean on each other, and unfortunately as soon as you put down the gun, then one of your friends picks it up.
Spin the barrel.
Fire the gun.
Someone dies.

That’s my own issues speaking though, and I want to talk about Stacy. Being a writer herself, I know she would have understood that diatribe.
Perfect segue.

Though we were both writers, I met Stacy through our love of animals. She had lost her beloved Jurgen, yet had found the strength to adopt another dog that needed a loving home. I so admired her for opening her heart again that it inspired me to dedicate my 200th blog post to animal rescue stories. I remember wondering what I should do for such a landmark post, and she was the inspiration for it.

nightmare dog, animal rescue storiesThat was Stacy though: kind and inspiring.

Unfortunately my own depression has been relentless for the past two years, and I didn’t talk with her as much as I wish I had. Like so many things in my life, I’d set her in my peripheral vision and only looked directly when something really fascinated me. I’m just thankful that she was so fascinating that I paid as much attention as I did.

Stacy just seemed so…”cool”. Even her name was interesting. Her full name was Anastasia, which usually garners the nickname of “Anne” or “Anna”, but she was a Stacy. I seriously thought that was the neatest nicking of names ever – so much so that I planned on changing the name of one of my characters in my book to that.
Stacy had the best Bucket List, and she was the only person I knew who actively worked to check things off of it. I loved it when a picture would show up on her Instagram feed documenting an adventure done, a check marked next to box on that list.

She skydived.

 

stacy 4
She went to a firing range.stacy 6
She went to concerts because she said she was going to stop saying she would see a band or an artist “next time”.stacy 5

She stayed in the fucking Stanley Hotel.stacy stanley i cant spell

I am a huge fan of The Shining and it had never occurred to me to want to stay in the creepy hotel that inspired the story until I saw Stacy’s black and white pictures of the infamous fourth floor. Not only was the fact that she was at the hotel so brilliant, but her pictures were taken with such a sharp eye that they captured eeriness without being campy. But this shouldn’t be surprising because Stacy was an incredible photographer.stacy stanley Her Stanley Hotel pictures were not just beautiful but they were complete with captions about hearing children playing in empty halls, and ordering Whiskey from a bartender named Lloyd. They were beautiful as only she could make them because they illustrated her vision, both also her wicked sense of humor and her mastery of words.

Her words. I wish that I had read more of them while she was still here.

Through the power of the Interwebz and its promise threat that nothing ever really disappears from its depths I’ve been able to read her former blog “Jurgen Nation”. There is so much brilliance there. It’s not an easy blog to read – there is a lot of pain, and it kills me a little wondering if she wished that she could make her pain disappear as simply as she thought she had deleted the blog that detailed it…and how wretchedly ironic it is that her blog didn’t truly disappear after all. Nothing disappears.

Another irony – bloody fucking hell I’m beginning to hate you, Mistress Irony – is that the post that resonates most to me right now – the one that exactly touches on the punch in the throat that has knocked me into such a pit this year that I cannot fathom ever being able to climb out of it, on a pain that I cannot even yet put into words – was written only a few days after a post where she wrote a letter to herself twenty years from now. Or “then” since it was in 2009. It a post about how she would still be here in twenty years, even though she might think she won’t.

Stacy 2It makes me so angry that Life thinks it’s so clever with these little elbows to the ribs. You’re so not fucking funny, in fact sometimes You feel downright cruel.

There is so much that I’m going to miss about Stacy. Her presence was like birds singing: you don’t realize how much you enjoy their music, and take for granted that they will always be singing until they are silent. I think of all of the empty buildings that she will never photograph, all of the words she’ll never write, all of the snarky jokes she will never make. Stacy was caring, and beautiful, and wrong, and clever, and brilliant. I read the stories shared by people who knew her better, and I’m so jealous of them. I wish that I could justify this pain by proximity, where the equation would make sense. But there is a reason that artists are dyslexic, and numbers do not add up to us. stacy 7

Stacy was a true Siren, drawing so many people to her.
I’m grateful that I  heard her song and listened while I could.

I will see you later, beautiful girl. Keep the cocktail chilling.

In the mean time I am changing a character’s name in your honour. It is my hope that “Stacy” destroying demons in my story will give you the victory down here that you so deserved.

 

stacy brody

“Three things will last forever – faith, hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love.”

 

**The average time that people will allow you to mourn is one month. I wrote this entry nearly three months ago, and I still feel it so much that I decided to finish it and publish the bloody thing. It reminds me that loss has no timetable. Loss is not something get over, you just learn to live with it.

 

 

My 200th Post Celebration Has Gone to the Dogs! And the Cats! PART 1

This is my 200th post.
And it’s HUGE!

First of all, the fact that I, an extremely slow writer with the most erratic life which simultaneously creates inspiration for posts yet prevents me from having the time to actually write them, have completed and posted two-hundred entries is bloody monumental.

Second, it’s quite literally huge because when I put out the call in my last post for your animal rescue stories, I wasn’t sure how many of you would have time to respond, but lot of brilliant peeps came through big time. You came through so much in fact that, despite editing your stories a teeny bit where I could, there was just too much love to put in a single post so this is the first of two celebration posts. When we party we party big up in here, yo!

Part Deux is going to run on Thursday (statically the other high traffic day and I want everyone to get as much exposure as possible…and because I’m not off until Wednesday and I’ll need to sleep at some point this week) so make sure to come back to read the rest of these wonderful tales of rescue love.

As I mentioned above, I work a lot of hours (pretty much all of them between writing and my second job) and whenever one of your stories popped up on my phone it truly made my day, so thank you all so very much for sharing them with me. Not only did your stories make me smile (and sniffle in a few cases) but they are the very things that make a difference in spreading the word about how awesome it is to adopt an animal. As most of you know both Kira and Seamus were rescues so it’s a cause that is very dear to me.

Finally, thank you, thank you, two hundred times thank you for being here and reading my what-the-fuckery and helping me to reach this landmark. I’m a writer which means that I can’t not write but it means the world to have you all here to read it. MASSIVE GROPING HUGS TO YOU!

And now without further ado, here are your animal stories! PART ONE!

~Brody & Stacy: The Bromance (Instagram)

I didn’t think I’d get another fur kid. I saw something on facebook about a dog at a shelter an hour from my house and I just remember thinking how awful it feels to be left alone. As I was walking around [the animal shelter] wondering what to do (and panicking because I *could not* leave without bringing a pup home (I can’t articulate that feeling)), I saw a brown bear right there in a cage. Good God he was huge. And his fur! If an afro and a cloud mated, the result would be what I was seeing before me. And I met Brody. In the 10 or so minutes we spent meeting each other, he showed me no less than 15 facial expressions, a freckled tongue and a gentleness that surprised me.

It’s been three weeks today since we rescued each other. He is kind and gentle and playful and curious and still tilts his head when he’s confronted with anything out of the ordinary. And I’m lucky. It boggles my mind why anyone would get rid of him voluntarily (the story was a “change in lifestyle” and that “he doesn’t get along with other pets” which is ridiculous), but I couldn’t be more grateful. I’m going to write the shelter a letter and a separate one and ask they forward it to his previous owners. Thank you, Person Who Didn’t Want My Dog.

nightmare dog, animal rescue stories

~Roxxi & Gina: Pibble Love

Roxxi is the sweetest girl & best companion anyone could ask for! I went to the shelter in search of a puppy. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor amongst all of the dogs & Roxxi came right up, crawled into my lap & laid her head on my shoulder, we’ve been best friends ever since. She was due to be euthanized & I just couldn’t let that happen. I could say that I rescued her that day…but really, in every way that counts, she is the one who rescued me!

animal rescues

~Alexandria, Nineveh, Lucy & Brenda: Finding Out You’re a Dog Person

I found Alexandria & Nineveh in a shelter in South Carolina around 2005 or so. Alexandria convinced me to take her and her sister home, and they have been running the household ever since. (Though I suspect that Nineveh is really the evil genius behind most of their plots).

Lucy adopted my father-in-law several years ago. The story goes that he was at work (I believe he was repairing engines at the time), and Lucy walks into the workshop, walks past several of my FIL’s coworkers, and sits in front of him with a look as if to say “You’re the one. Take me home.” He got her a bowl of water and they were inseparable until just this past year. Sadly, he was diagnosed with ALS last year, and the rapid progression of the disease has made it impossible for my in-laws to give Lucy the time and space an active dog needs. Keith and I took her in, and she has since convinced me that I was, in fact, also a dog person. (I swore I wasn’t, but holy crow I love that dog).

cats, dog

Note from Brenda: Lucy broke her leg in the backyard at the beginning of the summer in a suspected squirrel-related mishap, but she refuses to tell me the details. I think the squirrel won that day. That’s why she’s wearing a cast in the picture. It has since come off and she is running around chasing squirrels and rabbits once again like the vicious hunter (not really) she thinks she is.

~Ozzie & Nancy: Brotherly Love (This Crazy Life of Mine)

We adopted Ozzie in April 2011. We had a crazy idea to adopt a brother or sister for Blue who we had since early 2010. The Humane Society of Pinellas County happened to post a video one day of an Australian Shepherd that had been dropped off by it’s previous owner because they had to move. That video sent me to the Humane Society immediately to meet him. He was shy and timid and oh so handsome. Someone else was in the process of adopting him, but it fell through and we were next on the list. Later that day, we took Blue up to meet him as they recommended. They didn’t even look at each other and we decided that was all we needed to take Ozzie home and spoil the heck out of him.

Ozzie has come so far 2 1/2 years we’ve had home. He came into our home unsure of how to act around my husband, very timid, and afraid of little things like a belt being picked up off the dresser and more. We realized very quickly that he probably did not live in the best circumstances prior to our home. We worked with him closely every day and he is now a happy go lucky dog who is so happy to be in our home.

Ozzie and Blue get along like most “brothers”, sometimes they drive each other nuts, but it’s also not uncommon to find them snuggling on the floor or couch. I am thankful every single day that we rescued Ozzie and have given him a home where he is spoiled rotten. He is incredibly loyal and he just wants to be loved. We joke about how the dogs don’t live with us, we live with them. They are our children and we love and adore them.

australian shepard

~Bear & Andrea: Ten Acres and a Dog  (My Everything Corner)

We had been living at our new home on a 10 acre piece of land for nearly a year, when I decided that enough was enough. Being that I am often alone out in the yard, I deserved a dog, the large space deserved a dog, and a dog deserved the large space.

It didn’t take too long looking at nearby shelters for our puppy to come in. The story was that he’d been dropped off in a Saskatoon parking lot with two young girls. Their big hearts took him home, but being that they already had a dog, and she didn’t get on well with Bear, they would have to take him to the SPCA.

We drove the 3 hours to Saskatoon, fell in love, and brought our new puppy home. His looks, his disposition and his size would suggest that he is Tibetan Mastiff cross.

It’s been well over a year, and with lots of training and even more love, we have the perfect dog. And myself, Bear and our 10 acres couldn’t be happier.

~Yoki & Bryan: Not Your “Classic” Rescue But a Rescue All the Same (A Beer for the Shower)

I rescued Yoki from a pet store. I know, that almost sounds like an oxymoron, but hear me out. I was at the mall one day, walking by the pet store, when I saw this poor disheveled dog looking out at me from behind a glass cage. She was sharing a much-too-small pen with a huge bulldog that had been bullying her. Her hair was matted, her ears were down, and the fur on her tail had been chewed off completely to the point that her tail was nothing more than a limp noodle covered in red, raw flesh. I’ll never forget the sign that was posted beneath her.

“$100. Please take me.”

It was Christmas time. Everyone else was so excited to look at the other dogs and bring home a cute, well groomed puppy for their Christmas gift, but no one was even giving Yoki a second glance. And her, she just sat there, helpless, staring at me. Whimpering. Pleading with me to help her. She was getting old for a puppy – 6 months according to her tag, easily the oldest dog in the store – so I walked up to the counter and asked the girl what they did with puppies that didn’t sell once they got too old. The girl said, “We’re not allowed to disclose that.”

AKA they were going to put her down.

I saw potential in that dog. I knew she could be beautiful if the right person just took care of her, and nursed her back to health, and loved her. I knew that person had to be me. I knew if I walked out of that store that they were going to put her down. That I’d regret it for the rest of my life. I bought her on the spot.

She’s been my best friend for 7 years now, and even though I got her at a pet store** (the very place I hate), I have no doubt in my mind that on that day I saved her life.

**Said “pet store” has since been shut down
animal rescue stories, american eskimo, eskie

(By the by, Yoki is Kira’s unrelated nearly identical twin and if you want to read the comic that they made together then you can check that out here.)

That concludes PART ONE of my 200th post celebration, but please make sure to come back on Thursday for PART TWO and read the rest of the stories because they are all so heart-warming and adorable and so worth the read.

Get Ready FOR EPIC AWESOMENESS!

To quote Dave Chappelle who was quoting Rick James: “It’s a celebration, bitches!”

Or at least it will at my next post, which will be my 200th post!

american eskimo, eskies, dog, 200th post

I knew that I wanted to do something special for this landmark post but I couldn’t think of anything until the other week when one of my Facebook friends mentioned that she was going on a roadtrip to bring home a pup from an animal shelter. That’s when it struck me that I wanted to celebrate by having my 200th post dedicated to the awesomeness of animal rescue. I could do this just by talking about my own experience since both Kira and Seamus are rescues but whether I’m celebrating the anniversary of my BONing or my 100th post, I like to include other people and pimp the love out. Also, since I personally know that many of my awesome peeps have rescue stories of their own, I decided to open the floor–in other words, I want to hear your stories of rescue love and share them in numero 200.

I’ve already put the call out on Facebook last week and have received some completely face-meltingly adorable stories but there’s plenty of room to add more stories and to get yourself so exposure since I’ll definitely put a link to your blog or twitter or Instagram or whatever you want. Email me at katsidhe@gmail.com and send me a pic of you and your rescue dog/cat/ect, and a brief bit about them. I’m taking submissions until October 12th which is a little over a week so make sure to send me your stories ASAP, peeps!

LET’S PARTY!

PS-I made a form below that you can use to send me your info information but the only problem is that I don’t think you can use it to send a pic. And given my recently documented lack of computer skillz the odds aren’t good that I’ll figure out if this is possible, but I’m leaving it on here in case it helps anyone.

That Noise You Heard Was Just Me Screaming My Face Off

I’ve had a number of different jobs throughout my life but there has never been one as difficult as being a writer. I’m not exaggerating when I say that I work at least 100 hours a week. Seriously the only breaks that I take are when I go to the gym for half an hour or when I’m at my part-time-get-me-out-of-the-house-so-I’m-not-a-recluse job. Some people would argue that this isn’t healthy but welcome to a writer’s life. It’s long hours of work coupled with even longer hours of waiting. I truly believe that writing is a calling where you either are a writer or you’re not because no sane person would choose this career. Hell there have been many times when I myself have questioned if I’m making the right decision to pursue this dream and if I shouldn’t just get a comfy 9 to 5 job with health benefits, vacation time and a 401K.

Then something brilliant happens.

Your work is published.
steaming into a victorian future, steampunk
“Steaming into a Victorian Future” is the textbook used in the University of Maryland Alternate History course.

And my work is referenced in it.

I’m referenced in it.

Four. Fucking. Times
steaming into a victorian future, steampunk, calen spindler

I did not even know that “Alternate History” was a legit course but apparently it’s more popular than I thought, in fact it’s a course in universities all over the world. Guess which textbook is the new “go to” book used for all of those course.

Yup.

I’m being read in universities all the way down in New Zealand and Australia.
steaming into a victorian future, steampunk, alternative history college course
I want to cry and laugh and scream and throw up at the same time whenever I think about it.

I’m published.
In academia.

Me.

The dumb broad who has always been recognized for her chest rather than any so-called talent…

…who was encouraged to marry rather than pursue a career…

…who didn’t even go to college herself…

…is being read in universities all over the world.

And that’s why I screamed my face off.
im so happy, happy screaming

Let’s party, peeps.
Thank you so much for believing in me.

It’s a Boy

I only had a few minutes at the computer–time that I could have spent on my manuscript–but instead I was Facebook, a place that I don’t even like and avoid except when my mother needs me to help her with Farmville missions. I wasn’t friends with the person at whose profile I was staring, however I could send them a message. I continued to stare as the clocked ticked down to you-have-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-here o’clock and finally pressed the damn button and sent my message.

“Hi, my friend send me a text that you are trying to find a home for your dog?”

Thus our story begins.

The woman was indeed looking for a home for her American Eskimo boy and while I had always wanted to adopt another dog, I wasn’t sure how Kira the Diva would handle it. She’s good with puppies, but it’s touch and go with adult dogs. The Eskie boy who needed a home was six years old so I was somewhat relieved when the woman messaged me a few days later that it looked like a friend of hers was going to take him.

About a week later, she messaged me again saying that she hadn’t been able to get a hold of the guy and that if I was still willing to give the boy a home that she would really appreciate it. She was giving the guy until Friday to get back to her and would message me if he didn’t. Part of me was hoping that the guy would message her, but the other, bigger part was already worried about how good of a parent this guy would be if he was already this blase about the adoption.

american eskimo dog

First pic! On our way home.

To make a long story, that Sunday I became a fur-mommy again.

His name was Snowy and while I wasn’t crazy about that name, I thought that we could call him “Jon-Snowy” because that’s the kind of “Game of Thrones” nerd I am. Instead we ended up calling him Seamus, short for “The Wee Eskie Seamus” because that’s the kind of Archer nerd I am.

The first thing I noticed when we picked up Seamus was that he was missing a large patch of fur on his back near his tail. His original parent told me that he lost it because of the change of season, but I recognize the effects of fleas and knew that this was more likely the case–particularly when I rubbed him and felt the bumps and scabs back there. Sure enough I actually saw the little fuckers crawling on him during the drive home. Even though I didn’t want to traumatize him more than he already was at being taken by two strangers from his home of six years, my mother and I knew that we had to stop and give him a bath and start him on flea treatment. We stopped at the pet supply store (that has these spa-like bath that I’m half tempted to jump in) and began washing him. As his fur became wet we saw just how scabbed and red he was not only on the entire lower half of his back but also parts of his belly and his man-junk. (It was seriously horrible and I’ll spare you the pictures.) The good news is that, while he trembled and whimpered a bit as we washed him, as soon as he was toweled off (and in a collar since they had only had a leash on him that acted like a choker), he hopped around with excitement and then rolled over for a belly rub. I think he knew that we were trying to help him.

I’m trying to keep this as short as possible and failing miserably so I’ll just let ya’all know that all of the feverent prayers that I had been saying that Kira and Seamus would get along were answered. It’s seriously a fucking miracle because I have never seen Kira so friendly a strange dog–particuarly when that dog is invading her house. I think she sensed that Seamus needed us.

It’ll be two week on Sunday that we’ve had him and he is such a sweet dog. He is a total belly rub fiend but gives lots of kisses as thanks. Also his back and man-junk are nearly completely healed and his fur is already starting to grow back where he had pulled it out. It’s been an adventure already so yes, prepare yourself for even more dog anecdeotes because, as with everyone in my family, he’s kinda mental.

american eskimo dog

He lays with his legs out behind him. It’s weird and adorable.

An Abundance of Smart Ass(terisks)

I’m a bit MIA.*

*Again.

*sobs*

And what’s worse is that my superstition about announcing-something-until-it-has-already-happened-in-case-something-fucks-it-up keeps me from disclosing everything that has kept me from interacting with my kickass peeps on here. Just take my word for it (for now since I can’t wait until I can scream my face off) that I’ve been working like a bitch on the down and dirty aspect of being a writer–aka the business aspect of writer–and it’s extremely time expensive and about as much fun as going through your recently deceased great-aunt’s belongings and finding her collection of foot long dildos.**

**Though not nearly as awkward, so there’s that.

s hi t, shitThis business-y type work is of course in addition to recovering from the trauma of nearly losing my beloved Eskie at the beginning of the month–which a normal person would be over by now but I, on the other hand, have anxiety issues and thus continue to have spazz attacks and feel the need to stop what I’m doing and cuddle her.***

***Kira, being fully recovered, isn’t too happy when I do this since it usually disturbs her from a nap.

In the meantime I did make a video in reference to the two cases that the Supreme Court is hearing about same sex marriage this week.****

****Some of you are probably thinking that a video would take longer than actually writing a post but not for me; as much as I enjoy “vlogging” I don’t worry over it as much as I do about my written words and so I can do a vlog in a fourth of the time that I do a written blog post.

Some people will hate this video because they are stupidasses who won’t get the tongue-in-cheekiness of it*****, and some people will hate it because they disagree, but that’s their prerogative. All I ask is that if anyone feels the need to express that they disagree that they do it with respect.

*****I already have one of these and for the record, I am pro-marriage and said commenter is a moron.

In closing, it’s after 1am as I write this and I’m really bloody tired, but thank you so much for being here, my dear peeps.*******

*******Also, I know I say “thank you” a lot, but I truly mean it. I’ve had to deal with a lot of shit in my life and I just want it known how grateful I am for the support that you all have given me.

You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello: The 2012 Year in Review!

So 2012…

you say goodbye I say hello, statler and waldorf

January

The year started with a trip to Boston, and in typical Kat fashion I arrived late, damp, cold, drunk and having locked myself in the train station bathroom at one point.

February

February was a weird month, and it culminated in the decsion to move out of my apartment and crash at my mother’s place for the time being. In hindsight I can tell you that, true to what I had mused in the post where I announced my decision to move, this choice fit the mold in that it was extremely difficult at the time but ended up being the right one. And of course since once I’ve made a decision to do something I have to do it immediately and by the end of the February I was packed, ready to move and leaning on Bestie and my brother to help me get my shit out of my old place and into my mother’s. Naturally the move was done with the usual fanfare that erupts around me and so it included my mother smashing apart an entertainment center with a hammer and me nearly knocking myself unconscious. All in all though I accepted that I had closed a chapter but that something better was coming.

March

Less than a week after I moved I broke my hand in a most spectacular fashion and was subjected to the world’s shittiest doctor (whose time will come when the new doctor’s office down the road from him opens and takes his patients). I was still adjusting to living with my family on top of being in pain and it inspired this short story which I wouldn’t usually included in a Year in Review except that it becomes important in another moment this year. I also got a kick in the chest with some personal shit that I didn’t talk about on here and though I realize now that I kicked ass through it, March was a difficult month.

April

you said what

“You said what?”
“I forget but it probably inappropriate.”

For a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I just like to torture myself, I did a Seven Day Detox “diet”. I’d probably list this event anyway because this was not an easy task and I still feel a bit gloaty that I made the week, but this is something else that plays a more significant role in a later month. While my paw was still healing I somehow managed to design the Writes Like a Slut logo that I had been talking about doing for over a year. I finished the month by sharing one of the wrongest stories ever which has resulted in some really, really fucked up search results landing here.

May

May was a huge month. Not only did I receive my “Writes Like a Slut” shirt, and my dear Jewels receive her shirt and become the first member of the WLAS Posse, but I also gave you some kick ass zombie survival advice all month long, and became a contributer to the new site The Indie Chicks. The hilarious thing is that my first article was about makeup, and somehow the beauty section has since become my li’l niche there. Despite all of this brilliance though, there was a dark moment in May with the passing of M.C.A of the Beastie Boys and how that much affected me.

June

For the halfway point of the year I did some more graphic designing including the “Tequila is Cheap” and the “Dirty Stay Out”. I also did a rare serious, activist type post where I threw a holy fit at Urban Decay for deciding to allow animal testing on their products. The month concluded with a post on cell phone etiquette and a link to my newest article at The Indie Chicks on what to expect during that Seven Day Detox I did in April. The article received 10,000 hits within the first week and remains (I believe) the most popular article on the site. To date I know that it’s been stumbled over 63,000 times and thus is the most widely read piece of my work (so far).

July

grumpy hug

And then there’s this.

I got my first professional Brazilian bikini wax…at a Jewish Community Center because that’s how I roll. I also created Facebook Fan Page for this site because I’m so hilarious. Finally I did something rather bitchy, wrote about it, and it has since because one of my most popular stories because everyone has had a guy or girl treat them like shit and my act of nastiness was for us all.

August

I let the ocean water touch me for the first time since I was eighteen years old and I did it even before I was given a watermelon full of Everclear. This was a major accomplishment for me even if I haven’t actually made it into the water again yet. I also met a Tolkien character at Home Depot which is another incident that comes back later in the year. Finally I followed up on the wrongest story post because one wrong turn deserves another.

September

I got a wretched eye infection thanks to eye strain that resulted in my dog taking over the blog for me, and then I celebrated the year anniversary of my getting BONed and held my first giveaway.

October

somebody i used to know, gotye

How many times did you hear this song this year?

This month saw my first (and relatively minor in the big picture especially since it won’t be my last) disappointment as a writer. The story that I had mentioned writing back in March had not won either of the contests that I had entered, but this is another blessing in disguise since it was a serious piece and probably not the best representation of my usual style. The East Coast was then attacked by Frankenstorm aka Hurricane Sandy, however we were very lucky and did not sustain any damage. I also created a youtube channel where you all got to hear my muddled accent in my first Birchbox video. (And yes I have noticed that you all watch the bloopers reel more than the legit product and no, it honestly doesn’t surprise me since I’ve build a readership based on WTF so of course the popularity of videos would reflect this.)

November

I had a bout of depression because… it happens. And tat’s the beauty of depression is that it often comes for no fucking reason just to rattle my monkey tree. I do know that part of my problem was that my formerly broken hand which never healed properly was feeling the ache of the cold weather and I was having some particularly exhausting cardiac flares. Luckily God sent a door-to-door meat saleman to my house and since traumatizing others always makes me feel better it helped to snap me back to my so-called normal self.

December

elf on the shelf, iron throne, game of thrones

He made his own Iron Throne.

I held my second giveaway and the prize didn’t even require crossing dressing on the part of the guys if one of them won. I also developed an obsession with Elf on the Shelf which you have to be on Facebook to fully appreciate. My mother, brother and I went to the Show of Lights together for the first time in years and it was pretty brilliant to revive this tradition that spanned back to when I was a kid. I was the honored as the Featured Writer at Studio 30+ where that trip to Home Depot when I met Gollum came in handy since for my article I wrote about how to Blog Like a Bitchin’ Rockstar from Mars. (That’s not exactly the title but it’s what I would have used if I wasn’t trying to censor myself somewhat.) Finally I announced that “Writes Like a Slut” is now on over half of the continents in the world. Not a bad way to finish out what was a pretty fucking amazing year in writing for me.

The really, really final major event of 2012 though?

Writing this year in review and for the first time since 2007 not looking back at the previous twelve months and feeling that I was leaving with a deficit.

I’ve a vlog I’ll be posting later hopefully, but in closing I just want to say thank you all so much for reading and supporting me this year. Right before I started this entry I looked at my stats of visits, retweets, links in, ect and I am touched beyond words at how much you all have helped me grow this year. I seriously could not be doing now–writing, which has and always will be my true love–if it were not for you guys. You’re amazing. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

~Kxxoo

Best wishes for a Happy, Healthy, Prosperous and Kickass 2013!

PS-There were a few other major events that I didn’t mention, but that’s because they are actually precursors to really major events and I don’t want to jinx it. Don’t worry, as soon as it feels solid I will be screaming my face off about it.

“What Are We Going to Do Tonight, Brain?”

First things first, I want to announce the winner to the giveaway! Put your paws together for hilarious Working Dan from Shameless Promotions! He wins the “Therapy is Expensive, Tequila is Cheap” mug and I’ll be shamelessly promoting his site in the sidebar for all of January! Thanks so much to everyone who entered and congrats, Dan! (And on a sidenote, anyone can still get their own mug at my store here.) The next giveaway will probably be February–but don’t quote me on that.

Now on to the entry!

I’ve unfortunately been so busy with edits on my book and Christmas (I had the 12/25 post scheduled) and such that I haven’t had the time to share with you all something really, really fucking awesome that happened recently. Exactly two weeks ago today I received an email from the brilliant Louisa of Weezafish that she had received the “Writes Like a Slut” shirt that I sent her. The reason that this is major news because we had gone to great lengths to get this shirt to her since she couldn’t order it herself directly from my Zazzle site due to shipping restrictions to her location, namely South Africa. Check Louisa rocking out in her shirt, yo!

writes like a slut shirt

First off, Louisa would like you to know that behind her is a handmade African natural grass brush, and that her hair is not in fact frizzy like that.

Second, is a cute little tidbit (I cannot tell you all how much I fucking love that these pics always come with stories!) which is that this pic was taken by her five-year-old son with her camera phone after Louisa wasn’t satisfied with the ones that her hubby had taken with the camera. That’s commitment to the cause, peeps!

But the reason that I am extra stoked about Louisa getting her shirt is because a few weeks earlier I got a picture from Naty, one of the winners in September’s giveaway, that she had received her shirt, too.

writes like a slut shirt

I’d have been thrilled to know that Naty got her shirt no matter what, but what’s really cool is that this shirt made it to South America!

With the arrival of Louisa’s and Naty’s shirt, “Writes Like a Slut” is now featured on four fucking continents! There are members of the WLAS Posse in North America, South America, Europe and Africa! Keep your fingers crossed that 2013 will bring a WLAS in Asia, Australia, and if anyone knows someone heading to one of the research facilities in Antarctica we’ll take that continent, too!

So the answer to “what are we going to do tonight, Brain?” is of course:

“The same thing we do every night, Pinky… Try and take over the world.”

And we are doing it one t-shirt at a time.

The Time I Got a Brazilian Bikini Wax at a Jewish Community Center

I’ve wondered if my life is such a fucking dramedy because I’m a writer, or if I’m a writer because my life is such a fucking dramedy.  Granted some of it is a result of my own inanity, but then there are episodes where I am a complete innocent bystander.  I am seriously not joking when I’ve said that I’m a magnet for what-the-fuckery.  I can’t make this shit up.

For example, I was pretty stoked when I was given a gift certificate for a Brazilian bikini wax at a local spa for Christmas.  (You might be already thinking that this is a bit of what-the-fuck since who gets stoked over being given a gift where a complete stranger yanks all of the hair from your nethers by hot wax, but I’m really lazy and was thrilled to let someone else do this for me.)  I’d never heard of the spa where I was to undergo this aesthetic torture, but was assured that it was the best.  With summer finally here, I decided that it was time to use my certificate.  The first thing that I did was look to see if the spa had a website.  It did, but there wasn’t much to it except an overview of services and the address.  I happened to notice there was a “JCC”, but ditzy me thought that this was a business suffix like an “LLC”.  It wasn’t until I typed in the actual numerical address into Google maps that I realized that “JCC” was short for “Jewish Community Center”.

wtf, what the fuck, cat

I wasn’t even sure what a Jewish Community Center entailed but I was pretty sure that it didn’t typically include poon grooming.  Since I’m well-versed in the perverse, I just rolled with it and called to make my appointment.  When I spoke to the owner of the spa, she verified that she was indeed located inside the JCC, but assured me that I didn’t have to be Jewish to enter the building.  Good thing since I planned on praying the entire time that my pubes were being violently removed.

The first thing that I have to say about this JCC is that it’s bloody huge.  Not only is it three buildings, but each of the buildings is massive.  I didn’t know which one held my destination, so I chose the biggest building and it turned out that I was correct.  After signing in as a guest, I was pointed in the general direction of where I would find the spa.  After wandering the halls for ten minutes I finally stumbled in a panic through a doorway that I hoped was where I would just be waxed and not circumcised.  There was an elderly gentleman receptionist who assured me that I had found the correct place.  (Yeah it was a little weird to be asking an eldery Jewish man if I was in the right place to have my nonny-hoo-hoo primped, but again, I just rolled with it.)

As shocking as it might be, the waxing itself wasn’t traumatic.  Aside from being aware that there were small children just a room away in the daycare center as I was having my poon waxed, it went off without a hitch, in fact, you can read about the actual waxing experience and what to expect if you want to have one done in my article “Making Your Brazilian Wax a Smooth Experience” at The Indie Chicks.

In other news, I’ve started edits on my book.  I pretty much rewrote chapter one the other day (long story as to why) and I have to say that it’s something that I’m proud of–like to the point where even if it’s turned down my every literary agent in the world, I’ll still love it and be willing to show it off.  My posts are going to remain a little sparser for a bit longer, but as you can, a lot of the awesome that I’ve been mentioning in the past few months has been building momentum and I’m still adapting on keeping up with it.  It’s a lot of work–I pretty much live on my computer–but I love it.

Non-Related Identical Twins

I recently discovered that my American Eskimo dog, Kira, has a twin sister to whom she is not biologically related.  Her name is Yoki, and interestingly enough Yoki is owed by Bryan from A Beer For The Shower, who himself is not biologically related to his twin and co-author, Brandon.  The coincidences don’t stop there though because both Kira and Yoki have parents who drink too much.  This past Sunday Kira and Yoki got together to discuss their human parents.

american eskimo dogs

**The story behind Yoki’s (thankfully temporary) paralysis is here.

Kira Yoki 2 Kira Yoki 3Kira Yoki 4 Kira Yoki 5 Kira Yoki 6

(This was made on the fly and as a joke so I apologize for the poor picture quality.)

((Massive thanks to Bryan and Brandon and Yoki without whom work would have managed to screw me out of doing two posts this week.  *scratches behind all your ears*))