Everclear and Preparation H

If you’re scratching your head already at the title then let me blow your mind a little more by telling you that this is yet another post that has to do with my dog.

Welcome to my life.

The day after the Waterworld disaster in my kitchen–(it’s funny how I added “disaster” after Waterworld, isn’t it? As if it wasn’t already understood that anything referencing a Kevin Costner film is a disaster)–my brother mentioned to me that Kira kept scooting around the carpet. He thought that it was gross yet hilarious, while I on the other hand thought that it was gross yet upsetting because I knew that this meant that there was something wrong with her rear end, namely that she needed to have her anal glands expressed.

ocd dog

I feel their pain.

If you’re a dog owner then you are already familiar with this most pleasant aspect of dog care and if you are not then I’m not going to traumatize you with the disgusting explanation. Either way I’m going to skip over the wretched details and flash forward to this weekend when Kira was continuing to scoop despite no longer having a clinical reason to do this because, you see, my dog has friggin’ OCD. The problem with this obsessive compulsive scooting was that she was starting to really irritate herself. (Again going to skip the details though my brother nearly busted a gut and managed to take a picture of me wrestling with Kira to examine her rear AND NO I AM NOT SHARING IT HERE BECAUSE YOU ARE ALREADY WAY TOO JEALOUS OF MY ROCKSTAR LIFE.)

My mother luckily helped to hold Kira still as I inflicted this indignation on her. “Maybe you should put some Preparation H on her,” my mother said.

“Is there any in the house?” I asked because despite my variety of health issues, I have never had the need for such a medication. (And that’s your TMI moment for today, peeps.)

“I don’t think so. Dad used witch hazel.”

“Oh this is going to be fun,” I sneered, “buying hemorrhoid cream for my dog.”

My mother rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big deal. A lot of people need it.”

“But I do not! People are going to think I have ass problems!” I whined because that’s how mature I am.

“People aren’t going to think anything!” my mother insisted.

“Yes they will!” I said, again demonstrating incredible poise and maturity. Then a light went on in my brain and I gasped with glee. “Oh wait! They could just think that I’m a cokehead!”

“What?” My mother gave me her usual incredulous look.

“Yeah, cokeheads put Preparation H in their nostrils to reduce the swelling from snorting that shit,” I told her.

“How do you even know that?” she shook her head.

“How do you not?” I asked. I paused for a second. “Actually you’re right, I don’t know how I know that, but that’s the fun of living in my brain; even I don’t know what I’m going to say until it flies out of my face.”

“So you would rather someone thought you were on drugs than you had hemorrhoids,” Mumma grimaced.

“Yes. Though to be fair many people already assume that I am.”

preparation h, old adsAfter consulting with a retired vet though it was decided that hydrocortisone would be a better option. Unfortunately I was out of this, so I had to run to the store anyway. While I was picking up the hydrocortisone I remembered that I needed to get dental wipes for Kira’s teeth, too. After the nightmare of her dental cleaning I’m taking pains to keep her teeth healthy.

I picked up the jar of doggy dental wipes, looked at the list of ingredients and then placed it back on the shelf met my mother at the checkout.

“We have to stop at the liquor store,” I told her. “I need some Everclear.”

My mother looked at me since she knew that after my Smurf adventure I was never, ever touching that shit again.

“It’s for Kira.”

Again she just looked.

“Yes I was going to get her dental wipes but the ingredients were water and grain alcohol, so I’ll just get her some Everclear.”

“Preparation H and Everclear,” my mother shook her head. “You really are living like a rockstar.”

“My dog is anyway.”

(AFTER NOTE: I did not give my dog Everclear.)

(AFTER NOTE 2: I have since been told that people also use Preparation H is also used for wrinkles which resulted it another discussion about how I knew that drug addicts shove it up their nose but not that people use it for that.)

Also if you want to see the rockstar Kira in action, here is our latest (and last) BarkBox video:

The Sky Was Storming But the Watermelon was Everclear

Number 24 on The List of Shameless Shit is “Share a struggle you have yet to “just get over.””  This could be a real downer of a prompt, but homegirl don’t play that.  Instead I’m going to tell you about the beach adventure that I had with my brother this past weekend.

I’m guessing that it’s because I now do so much work from home that I want to be completely out of the house and away from my computer when I don’t have to be around to go in to my pay-the-bills job.  Oddly enough the place that I keep wanting to visit is the beach.  While many of my favourite childhood memories involve staying at my grandmother’s shore house and going on the beach with my cousins, I haven’t been a beach fan in over a decade.  I’ve long ago given up on self-analysis though, so even if this change seemed weird, I just rolled with it.

The forecast for this past weekend had been threatening massive storms, but the worst rain that we seen so far was on Saturday when a little shower had blown through early and left the rest of the day sunny.  Sunday started out the same way–with a shower in the morning–but by 11am it was sunny again.  The beach was calling to me, and after a round of pleas and threats, I was finally able to convince my brother to take a shore trip with me.

We didn’t get on the beach until about 2:30, but the late arrival and semi-cloudy sky worked to our benefit because there were hardly any people to step over as we picked a spot to camp out.  The only issue with the late arrive though was that the tide was coming in and this would possibly mess with my beach plans: to make The Red Keep, one of the castles from A Game of Thrones.

Geeks take their geekiness even to the beach, you see.

My brother, however, had an equally geeky idea about how to give me more time to build my castle, namely by building another GoT landmark: The Wall.

the wall, sand castle, game of thrones

I like how he even labeled it “Wall”.

Much like it’s namesake, The Wall did protect the realm of my castle as the tide started to come in.  And if you are reeling from nerd-overload already, this will send you right over the edge because every time a large wave barreled toward the shore we would scream, “WINTER IS COMING!”  Or if it was a particularly foamy wave we would howl about The Wall protecting us from the White Walkers.

(Shut up.)

Unfortunately the tide didn’t play fair and there was a cross-current that came from the side of The Wall and began to erode The Red Keep before I was even a third of the way finished.

sand castle

“The White Walkers” have surrounded The Red Keep and have begun to destroy it.

After the second wave of “White Walkers” the walls were crumbling and the largest towers had fallen.  I was undeterred though.  I knocked down a few towers myself and declared that the castle was now Harrenhall.

(Pound for pound this is pretty much the geekiest I’ve been in some time.)

sand castle

The ruined castle of Harrenhall.

My brother and I had done all that we could do to save the castle, so we moved on to playing Washers.  We had no sooner set up the washer boxes when the sky opened up with a downpour that would have sent Noah to building another Ark.  I wasn’t wearing a bathing suit so I wrapped myself in a towel while my brother held a sheet over his head until he gave it up for a bad job and let himself get soaked.  For a good twenty minutes we were pummeled with rain, and when it finished everything was saturated–except me (haha-thank you towel).  The funniest part though was that The Wall and Harrenhall made it (kinda) through the storm.

beach after rain

My brother inspecting the remains.

We resumed our game of Washers and then looked over to see that a rainbow had appeared over the ocean.  I have better pics on my camera, but here’s what my brother managed to capture with his phone.

rainbow at the beach

There must be GOLD in the Music Pier!

And then a leprechaun appeared and while he didn’t give us gold, he gave us the next best thing: grain alcohol.

Seriously.

Okay, it wasn’t really a leprechaun, it was one of the guys from the group who had been beaching next to us, but he was rather round and jolly and he really did give us a watermelon filled with Everclear.  My brother and I didn’t have knives, but did that stop us from eating the watermelon?  Nope.  We tore the watermelon apart with our fucking bare hands and ate it.  By the time we were finished, the already drenched beach blanket was further soaked in Watermelon-Everclear juice.  It was a lot of fun to haul the sticky, soaking lot of blankets, towels and bag back to the car, but all in all it was a pretty kickass day.

So what does this all have to do with No. 24 my List of Shameless Shit?  Well, that sea water surrounding my sand castle?  That was the first bit of the Atlantic Ocean that I’ve let touch my skin since I was eighteen.  Without wasting too much space with details, next week will be the anniversary of the day that I was at the shore and came down with a fever that would eventually burn so hot that it would cause brain damage and destroy my memory.  The doctors had told my mother that I must have caught something from the ocean and as a result I’ve had a panic attack whenever I’ve been on the beach and the water came near me.  This my No. 24 because I’m not over my fear of catching a fever from the ocean.

But I’m getting there.

(And because I’m emo, I took the rainbow as present from God for a job well started.)

Hammered, Head & Obnoxious Dogs: Moving ala Kat

I’ve discovered why people lose things during a move.

It’s because that while you start out packing things all nice and organized–Wonder Woman collection in one box, nunchucks and other weapons in another box, handcuffs, vibrators and flavoured body paint in a third–you eventually get to the point where you don’t give a fuck where things are packed as long as they are in a box and the hell away from you.

It’s particularly unwise to be disorganized while packing when your mother is offering to help you unpack.

(“Kat, I was unpacking your towels and came across a box labeled “Sir Thumps-alot” that was mixed in with them.  There’s a buzzing sound coming from it.”)

Despite my mother’s help, I’m still settling in so I’m way behind on my blog roll and on returning the comment love.  I’ll catch up soon though.  I usually wouldn’t do another post before I’ve caught up, but writing helps me maintain what semblance of sanity I have so I’ve decided to tell you about the moving day madness.

Moving day was as I imagine childbirth is like in that during it I was sweating, cursing and the male members of my family were terrified that I was going to flip out and scream and cry at them, and that by the end of the day I was exhausted and bleeding.

I awoke at around 4:30am on moving day.  And when I say “awoke” I mean that I just decided to pull my zombie ass out the bed since I hadn’t actually slept in over a week.  I had a few things to finish packing before my brother and BFF arrived to help with the move, so I got out my pile of newspaper to begin wrapping.  Kira, however, decided that I wasn’t under enough stress so she decided to play “Let’s Be As Obnoxious As Possible”.

This game begins with your dog blasting into your pile of newspaper like a fucking maniac and scattering them all over the place.

scattered papers

Thanks, Kira.

Then she grabs your Domo stuffed animal which you are trying to pack along with the other Halloween things and takes off with it.

(Seriously, Kira does not play even play with her own stuffed toys so this was completely just her being a brat.)

((I don’t have a picture of this because I was too busy chasing Kira down to get the damn animal back.  I eventually decided that I didn’t care and let her shake the shit out of it.))

Finally, when your BFF brings you doughnut for breakfast (because pink doughnuts are the breakfast of champions, ya’all), your dog proceeds to smack around the bag containing the doughnut with a fury that would be the envy of any pimp.

american eskimo dog, pink doughnut, dunkin' donuts

Kira wants this doughnut. Oh yes she does.

After playing this charming game with my dog, I then heard tales of my mother trying to take apart and move an old entertainment center from the spare bedroom where I would sleeping.  Apparently the screwdriver wasn’t working so she just took a hammer and smashed the bastard apart.

smashed furniture

The remains of the battle left by Mumma’s Hammer

I was unaware until that day that, not only had I received my love of slutty boots from my mother, but also my destructive nature.  To prove that the psychotic apple doesn’t fall far from the insane tree, I too employed a hammer about an hour later when I was trying to take apart an inversion table.  The only difference is that I called my hammer Mjolnir and declared myself to be Thor while doing it.

We were in the final process of carefully moving haphazardly throwing the furniture into my mother’s house when I nearly split my forehead open.  BFF was holding my iron coffee table frame with the legs facing out and I decided to headbutt the bottom of one leg.  This was not BFF’s fault at all, I’m seriously just a major klutz who walks into shit like this.  And what made the situation even worse was that while my mother and BFF searched in panic for a bag of ice to stop the swelling I could not stop laughing.  Again this is about par for me to be laughing my face off while blood trickles down from a huge goose egg erupting on my forehead.

Once the swelling subsided, and the final pieces of furniture were moved, we went to do what I do best–drink Tequila–because when you have a possible concussion it’s a good idea to suck down two margaritas as quickly as you can.

margarita

I held it against my forehead to keep the swelling down so this was for medicinal purposes.

I might not have drank my ‘ritas as quickly except that our waiter was totally vibing on BFF and kept bringing us booze.  And I drank it because that’s the kind of friend I am to sacrifice my liver to get my bestie some nookie.  Unfortunately BFF was not drinking so the efforts of our enamored waiter did not impress him at all.

Don’t worry, I still drank enough for two people.

Thus concluded Major Moving Day.

Mini Moving Day Mini Post tomorrow.

Snow Leaves Me Late and Drunk

I had started to write a follow up to this post about SOPA, but then I left for Boston and writing about the spectacularly fucked up trip to get there is much more appropriate.

gollum, hello precious

“Hello, Preciousssss…”

I usually drive up to Boston, but for this trip I was taking the bus because I find that sitting next to a guy who resembles Gollum and trying to look down my shirt for the entire seven hour trip makes for a most charming experience.  It also saves a lot of money when you’re a starving writer.

(Do you like how I put “starving” in there? Like how it’s not already implied as soon as you say “writer” that you’re starving?)

The main issue with taking the bus though is that they leave at a predetermined time rather than at whatever time I arrive to board, and with the insanity that follows me around like a stray cat, I usually end up running late.

If I was a mature person I would admit that the first screw up of the trip was my own fault since I didn’t plug in my cell phone, thus the battery was dying which resulted in its alarm going off very softly to conserve energy, thereby leading to me not waking up as early as I needed.  Instead I’m going to say that my phone’s battery blows and that it shouldn’t need to be charged as often as it demands.  Piece of shit.

LATE!

Waking up late was then compounded when I discovered that it had started snowing during the night.  I had my dog’s leash firmly in my hand when I opened the front door to leave for my mother’s house, but an Eskimo dog’s instinct to blast into snow is more powerful than the lock to keep the lead from letting out too far and she ended up nearly pulling my shoulder out of its socket as she blasted off into a snow drift.

“Kir-AAAAHHHHH!” I screamed as she yanked me into the snow and sent my backpack and suitcase flying from my arms.

COLD!

I was parched by the time I reached mumma’s so the first thing I did when I got to her house was to yank open the refrigerator, grab the orange juice and start chugging straight from the carton because I’m a lady like that.  I had swallowed at least two huge gulps before I realized that my brother had added fucking vodka to the carton of orange juice.  I spat out what was left in my mouth but there was no getting around that I had just chugged a giant Screwdriver for breakfast.

DRUNK!

I could have possibly still made the bus at this point, but then my mother and I reached the highway and it was still snowing and this is southern New Jersey.  South Jersey + Snow (of any accumulation) = You’re not going anywhere motherfucker.

FUCKED!

There was another bus leaving three hours later and rather than have my mother drive me across the bridge again, I convinced her to leave my pathetic ass at the station where there was at least the world’s worst coffee and incredibly slow Wifi.  All was calm until I took a trip to the restroom.

When I had gone into the bathroom stall, the lock didn’t turn very easily.  If I hadn’t been buzzed on vodka, I probably would have gone to another stall, but instead I cursed at the lock and turned it until it caught in the door.  The lock got its revenge though.  When I went to leave, it refused to release the door.

HAHA!

It was about 7am at this point, I was cold, drunk and nauseated so I did what I do best which was to be impulsive and destructive.  I pulled one of my slutty boots from my suitcase, yanked it on and then kicked the shit out of the bathroom door until I broke the lock.

Violence always makes me feel better so it didn’t even phase me when I finally boarded the bus a couple of hours later and the driver announced, “So this snow…um…yeah, I hope you guys weren’t planning on getting to Boston on time ’cause…nah, that’s not gonna happen…”

Yay snow in south Jersey/Philly.

obama snowball, cat

Even Obama laughs at my pain. (I laughed my ass off at this for some reason.)

EDIT: Ya’all need to read Nicki’s comment below to hear how she experienced hearing this story firsthand.  And kazoos are awesome.

The Year in Review 2011 Post

I usually avoid writing about events that I know every other writer is talking about on their blogs, but I’ve been doing the Year in Review thing for many a New Year’s now, so I’m making an exception.  I’m actually happy that this is a blogging trend and would probably follow it even if I had not been doing it for years because I’ve really loved reading everyone’s reflections on the past year.  This Year in Review is a little different than the previous years though because it was it was one year ago today, I started seriously blogging.   As a result, I don’t need to chronicle the events of 2011 in detail since most of the major ones are listed in the archives, that thing to the left that I call the “Athenæum” because I love ridiculously obscure words.  Instead I’m going to reflect a bit on how those events affected me.

Oh dear God she’s going to get introspective.

Yeah, this is likely gonna be one of those entirely skippable entries since I’ll babble and emote to the point that the entry will be just a squishy mess of fucking feely mushy mush that will make your teeth hurt.  Don’t worry, the next entry will be back to holy-shittery as usual though.  To those wise peeps who are jumping off at this point of the entry, I just want to say Happy New Year!  Thank you for helping make my year rock out with its cock out.~

Now on with the mushy-mush, heavy, thinky shit.

WARNING:  LAST CHANCE TO RUN BEFORE I START SENTIMENTAL BABBLING!

Writing has always been a huge part of me.  I was about four years old when I began drawing pictures and making up stories to go along with them.  Unfortunately, since I seemed to have a natural gift for writing pretty well, I took the skill for granted and never pushed myself to become better.  I think this had to do with my most hated emotion and the one that I seem to be fucking constantly battling: fear.  I was afraid to find out that “pretty well” was the best that I could do.  I was afraid that, while I might be a star in the Little League, that I could never compete in the Majors.  I’d done too much stagnating during the past five years though, and it was time to either face the truth if I sucked, or to stop making excuses and write like I’ve always wanted to do.  For whatever reason, I chose to blog as a means to figure out if my writing was shit or not, and it’s one of the best things I have ever done.

I’ve experienced several devastating losses in 2011, the first and the one with the largest impact was losing the job I had held for nearly ten years.  To fully appreciate what a loss this was you would have to know how impossible it is for me to stay in one place for very long, let alone ten years.  That alone is indication of how much the place meant to me, but also, losing my job resulted in the loss of many things such as a steady income, health insurance, several friends who I would no longer see every day, and just security in general.

2011 also saw the loss of a dear friend, one whom I still go to text when I have an urge to say something stupid and be called mental.  I could say more about her loss, but honestly it’s one that I’m still dealing with and don’t want to talk about.  Suffice to say it’s been pretty shitty.

If I had experienced either of these losses in the previous year, they probably would have been enough to send me spiraling back down into the walking ghost phase that I had been living since 2006, but fortunately this year had been enriched in ways that I could have never imagined.

What I’m getting to in a much longer route than I had anticipated was that this blog has made the difference for me this year.  Oh my God that sounds so fucking sappy.  On a writing level, it helped me to maintain a better–though still not brilliant–writing schedule.  It’s also given me some confidence that my writing might not be completely crappy given the amount of positive feedback that I’ve received about it.  My writing even led to my blog getting BONed, a honour that I’m still reeling over.  And if someone had told me that by the end of the year that I would have 800 people following my writing, I would have called them a filthy name.  It makes me think that perhaps my writing doesn’t suck.

On a personal level, I have formed some fucking brilliant relationships, and that is as amazing, if not even more amazing given my guarded nature, than the writing progress.  Jewels, Randy, Nicki, even S.O., and quite a few others that I’ve mentioned in past entries (see my Blog roll for more), were all people that I did not know a year ago, and cannot imagine not having in my life now.  They, and all of you dear readers, are a blessing that I never, ever saw coming.

patron, tequila

Drinking baby Patrons.

I’ll wrap this squishy package up by saying that while 2011 punched with some heavy fists, I was also held by some gentle hands.  The glass of Tequila is always half full.

Unless it’s my glass, in which case it’s empty.

Not because I’m a pessimist, I just love Tequila.

Best Wishes for Happiness, Health and Kicking ass for you all!

Slàinte! (<—Scots Gaelic spelling, as opposed to my usual Irish version, in honour of Auld Lang Syne)