And So This is 2014, And What Have We Done?

One year.

365 days.

345 sleepless nights.

5 blood tests.

3 MRIs.

2 Surgeries.

And a stray cat in a fir tree. ♫~♪~♫~♪~♫~♪~

(Oh go on and sing it, because you know you want to.)

Uh huh.
Well.

It was a year ago today that I made my last entry–(365 days…345 sleepless nights—Do shut up, Kat!) and as I had mentioned then, I had made a major decision and decided that it was necessary to take a different road on the path which I had been currently journeying.

Um, I mean, I didn’t change the path, just that the road I had been using to reach the path to the goal had been a bit altered because, after all, a path and road aren’t necessarily the same but they can both lead to a goal upon said road reached by a path and/or other road which…and…and…and…

Yeah. So…

So, there’s that.

Anyway, I think what I’ve been trying to say is that the thing about being a “writer” is that it’s this odd balance of experiencing a fucked-up world and all of its completely mental-shit crazy situations that will be thrown at your poor unsuspecting ass, and yet being alone enough of the time to hear the quiet and process them.

So am I saying that my absence was because I needed more experience with the fucked up world in 2014, or that I needed more time alone to process it all.

The answer is neither.

I did not set out to purposely experience the world like some fucking high school graduate taking a sabbatical through Europe to find his asshole self before he starting college, and I certainly did not need more time to listen to the quiet in my head–mostly because there is never any quiet in there–but because everyone, even writers and other–ahem–etherial(?) beings, sometimes just have to do what they have to do. And in the end, if you’re lucky, you will take something from that time and it will make you a better person, and in turn a better writer.

So, on this last night before the last day of the year, I could muddle through a month by month list of the previous year’s events as I had done in the past, but I don’t feel that they would give anything to you, my dear reader, only because I have selfishly kept them to myself for the past twelve months. 2014 was, as someone who shares her musing on a blog** would call, a “cornucopia”. Not only is a cornucopia appropriate for the holiday season, but I truly do feel that it embodies this past year for me: a bit of sour, a bit of sweet, but all nourishing, and–if I want to be a bit megalomanical, which I totally am not above being–providing strength and ability of a Greek pantheonic level.

*snickers*

Whatever.

*continues snickering*

2014, 2015

From a wise friend ♥

“A very Merry Christmas,
And a happy New Year.
Let’s hope it’s a good one,
Without any fear.”

Happy 2015, peeps. ♥

 

Part 2 of My 200th Post Celebration Featuring Your Animal Rescue Stories!

The wait is over! I present the the follow up to the first half of the animal rescue stories sent in to celebrate my 200th post.

(A side note here is that I would be a terrible editor because, while I’ve become somewhat proficient at killing my own darlings, I was only able to bring myself to parse so much from these stories. They were just too excellent. Ergo, a few of these are a little long but they are so worth the read.)

~Emily & Melanie: Just Ducky

My fur baby is named Emily Ann, she is (we believe) a Blue Russian cat. I found her 13 years ago when she was just a tiny baby. I had taken the trash out and it was cold and raining. When I was heading back in I heard this low weak sounding meow. I checked my neighbors steps and found this tiny little ball of sopping wet fur that was just shivering uncontrollably. I immediately swooped her up and took inside with me. I gave her a nice warm bath and wrapped her up in a towel fresh from the dryer. After getting her to eat a little from a kitten bottle she perked up some and decided that I was her person.

I looked at her sweet fuzzy face and just knew she was an Emily (a name I had decided I would name my first born daughter). Emily quickly became nicknamed Ducky since she followed me like a duckling follows its mother. She is now 13 but acts like a kitten still, she also greets anyone who enters her bedroom (it’s really her room I just sleep there, lol) and will answer you by meowing when you talk to her. All in all I couldn’t imagine my life without this amazing, loving cat that I have adopted as my furry child. She is more like a person then a cat to me and I feel blessed that she chose me to be her human.

cat in a box

~Bengie & Emelly: Taking Him From the Streets (Twitter)

I was talking to my eldest daughter in the balcony of our apt at 10:00pm when we saw this white and terrified dog in the bushes in the middle of the avenue. We keep looking to see what he was doing and I started to get worried that a car could hit him. My husband wasn’t fond of the idea to bring the dog up to the apt but I didn’t have the heart to let him be so scare and alone in the street. I changed my clothes ( I was on my pjs),took my keys, went to the elevator ( we used to live on the 11th floor), crossed the ave and look for him. He was near the bushes in the middle of the street and trying to call him so I could get him he got scare, ran and almost got hit by a car. I started to run towards him and took him. We took him to the vet, he was infested with ticks, had skin problems, an ear fungi and low weight. This happened this past February and we would not be happier. He is a healthy and beautiful dog now.
rescue pup, rescue dog, rescue stories, animal rescue

~Katie-bug & J.Day: For the Love of Uneven Floppy Ears (The Ramblings of Charlie Brown)

I think I was about 14 yrs old; it had been about a year since our old dog JR’s death and we were finally ready to get a new puppy and playmate for my Lab mix, Dustie. Mom read about a litter of puppies that had been abandoned by the owners of a house – left in the laundry room. A neighbor heard puppies and had called the city pound.

As we left the house for the pound, Mom said, “They are Doxie/Terrier mixes, long and short hair. I’m going to pick out a short-haired female. Yep. That’s what I want.” Half way there it turned into, “Weeeelllll, any female shall do.” The second we walked into the kennels, “Aw shit, the first one that jumps on me is going home with me.” Fortunately, that was a long-haired female with completely uneven floppy ears.

We took her home, named her Katie (which soon became Katie-bug) and discovered her biggest flaw – she peed every time anyone came up to her. It took us years to break her of that. She fell in love with balls (tennis, golf, soccer, volleyball, if it was round and she could chase it, it was her favoritest toy ever). Mom once hid the tennis ball in the desk so the dog would just stop playing fetch, and that dog sat there, staring at the desk for hours – like the desk may throw it and she didn’t want to miss it.

That silly ball-loving-pee-when-I-meet-someone-new-car-sick-getting dog was the most adorable uneven floppy eared dog ever. Until she dropped a saliva-ladden tennis ball in your lap with a big shit-eatin’ grin on her face – for the 700th time in a half hour. Then she was evil. And disgusting. But we still loved her.
animal rescue stories

~Tucker & Stephanie & Shel: The Perfect Mix (Odd Duck Studios)

Lilly is useless as a guard dog, so [Shel and I] agreed that another dog – especially something with a big bark – wouldn’t be a bad thing.

We probably argued for weeks. Shepherd vs. Pit. Breeder vs. Shelter. Shel was worried that a shelter puppy wouldn’t be young enough and, well, we already deal with enough early-life neuroses with Lill. Finally, I think we just sort of put a moratorium on the whole thing.

A little while later, a coworker of mine was looking for a SMALL dog, preferably to adopt. So, there I was, trolling Petfinder.com when I come upon this picture of a puppy who is totally not what my coworker is looking for. This little fella, who they were calling Harley, was there, staring out from between the bars of his cage.

We got to the shelter and asked to see him. Once he had all four paws on the floor, he headed for the door and looked back at Shel and I and barked at us – clearly telling his new Moms that he was ready to go home. Shel tried to be rational and give him a good lookover, but I can tell you that it wouldn’t have done her a whole lot of good to tell me that we shouldn’t take him home.

Tucker will be four in March, we think. We got him on Earth Day – I recycled him instead of getting a new one and let him get “thrown away” – and we’re relatively certain that he wasn’t less than six weeks or more than 8 weeks old. He is absolutely our fur baby and couldn’t be more of a combo of mine and Shel’s wishes–PART SHEPPARD, PART PIT–if he tried. If I am away from home, I miss him almost as much as I miss his Mom. We laugh at those bumper stickers that say, “Who rescued Who?” because that’s us.

animal resue story, pit bull sheppard rescue~Topaz & Michelle: Cat Envy No More

I grew up in rural Georgia and always had outdoor cats. My parents didn’t allow animals in the house, so I knew that once I grew up I’d get a house cat. After I finished college in Boston, all of the apartment buildings I moved to had a no-pets policy, which sucked big-time. Lucky for me the managers of the apartment that I was living in 11 years ago decided to change their policy on pets. Once I found that out, I couldn’t wait to get a cat.

After a bit of research I visited Boston’s Animal Rescue League. On my first visit I saw an older cat that I liked, but he had a heart murmur and I wasn’t sure I could afford the care that he would need. On my second visit I knew I had found “the one”. She was a black kitten with a tuft of white fur on her chest, and they called her Toesie because she’s polydactyl. Toesie was very playful and cute. After playing with her I knew I had to take her home. They told me that she was 6 months old and had been abandoned by her previous owners when they moved out of their apartment. How sad that they would leave such a sweet girl behind!

Once I adopted her, I changed her name from Toesie to Topaz, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. Having her in my life has gotten me through some tough times. Men have come and gone, but Topaz has always been there.

(Note from Kat: Topaz is my goddaughter!)
animal rescue stories, cat rescue

 

~Buddy & Lance: Two Guys Living With A lot of Girls (My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog)

My wife, referred to on my blog and medias that are social as The Bobina, works at an animal hospital as an office manager. One morning in May 2009, only a few months after we’d been married, a 3 1’2 year old golden retriever came in that had been abandoned by his previous owners. Because he had heart worms and was much older than most rescues, he would’ve have likely gone to a shelter. We had neither the room nor the time to bring in a family pet, but we figured it out. When I cam home that afternoon, I had a son, a dawg son, to go along with my wife and 3 daughters. Buddy is about to celebrate his 8th birthday. He’s a daddy’s boy who chewed up my wife’s copy of “50 Shades of Grey”.

golden retriever, animal rescue stories

~Kodi & Kianwi: “Let’s Go Home Now.”   (Simply She Goes)

About two months after my beloved dog, Brady died, I was driving past the Detroit Zoo when I noticed a sign announcing their adoption event.  Hundred of dogs and cats from area shelters are brought to the zoo twice a year to hopefully find their new family.  I hadn’t felt ready to get another dog, but on impulse I drove in and began wandering around, looking at the precious poochies.  Though I was occasionally teary-eyed from missing my old dog, I asked to see two dogs that caught my eye, but put both back, saying I would think about it.  Feeling like it wasn’t the right timing, I was getting ready to leave when one of the shelter ladies said, “let me show you this one last dog.”

I looked over to see one of the very few dogs that was just sitting in his cage, not panting or barking, but looking up at me with serious brown eyes.  I got him out and she told me he had been in a shelter in Detroit for 2 ½ months.  I  remember thinking, “oh boy, I just got a new dog.”  I took Kodi to my car, where he hopped right in and sat down, looking at me as if to say, “let’s go home now.”  And we did.  For anyone that reads my blog, you’ll know that I have become his devoted slave ever since .

(Note from Kat: This is Kira’s boyfriend!)

animal rescue stories

~Apollo & Nicki: The Nega-MacGyver (The Loaded Handbag)

I first met Apollo in the parking lot of a Hardee’s. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the 100% legitimate meeting spot of a Carolina rescue organization, chosen for its convenient location off the highway and its proximity to Tidewater Virginia and not, shall we say, for its scenic ambiance. There were six puppies. Five were yapping and whining at the front of the cage. One was sitting by himself in the back, calmly lapping water runoff off the tarp.

I realize this is not the most romantic opening. I realize that a dog licking water off a tarp would not say to most people, “Hey, this dog’s a keeper!” But in my head, I went, “He’s calm! He’s smart! He’s resourceful! He’s like the MacGyver of dogs!

Five years later, I can safely attest my dog is not the MacGyver of dogs. But he is a gigantic goofball, one who would happily spend every waking moment of his life chasing flying objects (literally any flying object. Balls. Sticks. Shoes. Bananas.), engaging in epic battles with the sprinkler, and licking pants. I don’t know, man.

For the first year of his life, this dog kept me sane, kept me company, kept me looking forward to waking up every morning in what became a very hellish time in my life. Luckily, we eventually met someone with a dog of his own, and today we all live together in Brady Bunch-esque combined-family bliss. But as much as Apollo loves the love of my life, I know he’ll always be mine, the one who kept me sane, kept me company through some of my darkest hours.

animal rescue stories

 

~Ashley & Skittles: Just a Handful (Instagram)

I was working in a dog boutique in Irvine, CA last year when we got a call at the store from this family saying they had found a puppy in a dumpster in their apartment complex and could not keep her and wanted to know if we could post a flyer in our boutique to help her find a home. We of course said yes!

They walked into the boutique with this 3 lb little puppy who fit in the palm of your hand. And I instantly fell in love with her. After visiting with them for a little while they headed home to make her a flyer to post in our store. After they left I tried really hard to get her out of my mind but the more I tried to, the more I couldn’t! So the next day I called them and told them I would be interested in possibly taking her and I would be going on a vacation for a couple days and would like to take her to meet my family and see how she was, with the deal that they could take her back for the 2 weeks while I was moving….they agreed and I went and picked her up the next day. Within a couple hours of my vacation with her I knew she was going to be my dog. Fast forward 4 days and I was coming home from my vacation and not looking forward to having to give her back to them while I moved.

The next day I couldn’t stop missing her, and 2 weeks seemed so long, so I did some begging and pleading and got the go ahead to move into my new place a week earlier than planned so I could go get my four legged little girl. I went and picked her up with my car loaded with boxes and she and I moved into our new place and started our life together. She is the craziest and most high energy pup I have ever had, but she has been my best buddy and wing woman this past year and has been by my side through 2 moves, my dad losing his battle to cancer, and a heartbreaking break up with the man of my dreams! When she walked into my life it was apparent she need someone (who turned out to be me), but what I didn’t realize was I needed her just as much as she needed me.

mixed breed, animal rescue stories

~Asta & Tara: Kintsugi (Thin Spiral Notebook)

One reason we were so charmed by [Asta], is that she is physically challenged. She will have a pin in her hip, a remanent from her surgery, for another month. Her injured leg appears shorter now, and the prognosis is that she’ll always have a limp.

For older dogs, imperfect dogs, it’s much harder to find Forever Homes. We sought out such a dog, mainly on the expressed wish of our son. Being a bit different himself, he can empathize and wanted to give a loving home to a needy pet.

Watching Asta peacefully sleeping this morning, the Mister mentioned how much happier she seems, and asked if I was still glad we adopted her.

“Do you still like your smelly, broken Valentine gift?”

I told him about the Japanese tradition of repairing broken pottery with gold-filled resin. The art of Kintsugi, “golden joinery,”  mends shattered vessels so that they are considered better and more beautiful.  I said I thought of Asta like that. She was broken, but with all the love we can offer, her wounds would mend and be made more beautiful.

labrador retriever, animal rescue stories

And that concludes my 200th post celebration! Thank you all again for being here and reading, and an extra thanks to the people who sent me their adorable stories.

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.

More Shit That’s Pretty Cool!

I feel like lately my posts sound like a first grader coming home from school hyperventilating to their parent about everything that happened that day.

“And then this happened and this happened and then THIS happened!”

But a lot has happened already this year and I’m still trying to organize and process it, and I’m bringing you all along on the ride because who likes to go on road trips alone right? I mean, it’s a lot easier to siphon gas from people’s cars when you have a lookout.

That said, I’ve mentioned in passing that I have some heart issues.

Over the past twenty years I’ve been to half a dozen cardiologists, tried a number of medications and had surgery twice. It seemed like the last surgery I had in 2010 had done the trick until about June of last year when I started to really feel like shit again. I didn’t want to have another surgery I had to go down the medication experimentation route–and let me tell you how much fun this was because I’m one of those people where if there’s a 1% chance of a bizarre side effect I will be that 1%.

Over the year I ended up trying so many different meds that I was seriously losing track of which one I currently taking. In April the doctor decided to think outside the box and prescribed me two new meds. The first thing that I noticed when I picked up the meds from the pharmacy was that the one bottle was a lot larger than usual. I unscrewed the cap and made a face at the contents.

“Holy shit these things are huge! Are you sure they’re meant for humans and not for horses?” I asked him.

“That’s them,” he replied without looking up.

“Well there should a Linda Lovelace instructional video that comes with them because I have no idea how I’m supposed to get these down my gullet.”

The eighty-year-old pharmacist finally gave me his attention and gave me a dirty look. That was good enough for me so I grabbed my bag of horse pills and left.

I took the pills as soon as I got home–which was not the best idea since I was going to fall asleep soon but I’m impatient like that.

And this is going to sound cliched but when I woke up the next morning I already felt like a different person.

Seriously it was like this:
awwww yeeaaa riding on a t-rex

Over the next three months I continued to feel better but it wasn’t until I happened to see a recent picture of me next to a picture from a few months ago in a Facebook album that it I realized just how shitty I had felt and how shitty I looked this past year.

I’m not completely fixed–I still get tired and I still have the occasional arrhythmia–but I’m feeling so much better and most importantly I’m writing a lot more efficiently since I’m not fighting to stay awake all the time. That right there is worth choking down some horse pills every morning.

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.

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.