Saturday Morning First World Problems

Nothing to improve a Saturday morning like stepping in a steaming pile of cat puke.

This after virtually a whole night spent feeling like Donald Duck in one of those old Merry Melody cartoons.  You know, the one where Donald is trying in vain to sleep but one thing after another seems to confound his efforts?

My first mistake was eating a snack too late.  I’ve discovered, much to my dismay, that if I eat much later than 8:30 or nine at night, I will invariably wake in the middle of the night even hungrier.  It must kick-start my metabolism, kind of like a second wind for my appetite.  And in case you’re not a regular reader, I have a very low tolerance for being hungry.  It makes me cranky and miserable, especially when I’m trying to sleep.  So then I eat a little “mid-night” snack, which is really nothing more than me grabbing something as I make a small circuit from the bedroom, to the kitchen, to the bathroom to pee, and then back to the bedroom.  And since I usually wake up multiple times a night, catalyzing this routine usually results in several repetitions of this routine, as the more I eat in the middle of the night, the hungrier I am each time I wake up.  I’m usually okay if I can fall right back to sleep; I can take a sip or two of juice and be fine. I try to drink juice or milk or even water in place of eating, but sometimes that just aggravates my bladder and then I can’t sleep because I keep having to pee…  And then when I get up for good in the morning, I already have five hundred calories under my belt (pardon the pun) to try to work off for the day.

And then the damn cats– Methos, specifically.  He’s always doing irritating shit, like butting into the black out curtains and letting in light from the lamp outside my window.  He’s learned that he doesn’t have to run away unless I actually get out of the bed, so after like the fifth time he opened my blinds, I finally got up to lock him in the laundry room.  Chloe hears the door shut, knew she was next (cuz that’s where the litter boxes are), so she led me a merry chase around the coffee table trying to evade capture.

It sounds ridiculous even as I type it.

So, last night was spent in a semi-comatose swirl of eating, drinking, peeing, tossing, and turning.  All of J*’s stirrings made me anxious, as I dreaded her waking early and me having to get up and stay up.

Hubby had a headache this morning, but I managed to beg him into getting up with J* so I could at least get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep.

So I get up around ten AM and, as I make my coffee in the kitchen…squish…

Arachnophobia: Is it any wonder “hate” is a synonym for “venom?”

I’m not generally one of those girly-girls that are afraid of bugs and spiders and snakes.  In fact, I used to trap and release the spiders in our house back in my home state.  Or if they were small ones up on the wall or something, I’d turn away and pretend I didn’t see them (make a break for it, little dude!)

And we actually own a snake as a pet…in as much as anyone can own a snake.  The things that really “bug” me are the parasitic type things, the things that borrow into the skin, like ticks, and suck blood like mosquitoes…  and ticks.

But that kind a of changed when we moved to Kentucky a few springs ago.  The bugs out here just seem…heartier.  Bugger, more plentiful.  I was about five months pregnant when we first got out here, and I couldn’t seem to make it from the car to our rented house without picking up a tick.  Dear GOD, they were everywhere, even on the wooden porch!

And then summer rolled around and so did the spiders.  Not just one or two house or wolf spiders, but droves of brown recluse spiders!   I was finding five and six a day, just moseying across doorways or whatever.  One night I woke up in the middle of the night, still under the influence of Ambien, and groggily told hubby I felt something on me.  He promptly tried to shoo off a giant recluse crawling on my shoulder…and the spider promptly tried to crawl away down my back.  The only thing saving me from a total liquid meltdown was the fact that I was too drugged to freak out.

Then one day I grabbed a sundress off the top of my dresser and threw it on…only to throw it off again when I discovered a small spider shilling next to my boob.  I swear, you have never seen a dress come off so fast!  It was on the floor in a puddle of fabric in two seconds flat and hubby was looking at me in amused astonishment.  Luckily, brown recluses are generally non-aggressive, and supposedly go out of their way to avoid biting.

Anyway, turned out our crawl space was filled with the things!  I was worried for myself, I was worried for the cats…and I had a new baby.  We had Terminex come out, but I’ve never fully recovered from the emotional distress of the episode…

As is evidenced by the way I yelled like a bitch and then had to get control of full body shivers and a major case of the “heebie jeebies,” and beg hubby to come kill the interloper and then finish loading the laundry into the washer.  And then my hand “felt funny,” and I’m almost certain I’ll have a raging case of necrotizing fasciitis by bed time tonight!

And yet I still feel bad killing spiders.  I actually don’t hate or fear all spiders… mostly just those damn recluse, because even in our current apartment, they always turn up with the change of the season…like bad pennies.

God, I hope not…

See you in hell, arachnid demon spawn!

Related articles

• Can a brown recluse spider harm my cats? (cat-training.dogs-and-cats-at-home.com)

On Birthday and Mother’s Day Wishes…

First, let me take a minute to wish all my fellow okaasan a happy Mother’s Day.  I feel like this is acceptable.  Aside from the fact that mother’s day is essentially a Hallmark Holiday, some of you are overseas, many of you are still very new acquaintances, and none of you are my mother, thus an actual phone call may be impractical, and possibly even weird.  This may sound like a “Captain Obvious” kind of observation, but it segues nicely into my point.

Thursday was my birthday.  I got a lot of birthday love via Facebook.  My bestie took me and my family out to lunch.  My neighbor brought me fresh strawberries and a mojito.  I was frankly touched.  Even though we’ve become quite good pals lately, the fact that she thought of me even a little was pretty cool.  One of my other friends brought me a whole DQ ice cream cake on Friday (my waistline thanks you!)  I had a very lovely birthday, (despite spending at least part of it in the pediatrician’s office with my daughter for a weirdly vacillating rash.

And I got a few birthday texts.  Which is cool…  Except that not a single one of my four sets of parents or three sisters actually picked up the phone to call me on my birthday.  Ironically, my Dad just called to say “Happy Mother’s Day.”  Maybe it’s easier to call on a Sunday than a Thursday?  My mom, for her part (and weirdly) wished me an early “happy birthday” when I spoke to her earlier in the week.  But why?  Was she planning on being in absentia on my actual b-day?  (Hubby seems to think she just wanted to be the very first to wish me a “happy birthday”.)

Anyway, it’s not a huge deal, but I have to admit it’s given me pause, and once again made me consider how our ever increasing technology is changing our culture…and our manners.  Is it okay for close family to text or Facebook a birthday greeting in lieu of an actual call?  I have mixed feelings.

I wonder if everyone will mind that I have not, as of yet, made any of my Mother’s Day cards, let alone sent them.  Maybe I can just shoot my three mothers (mom, stepmom, and MIL) a text.

So, readers, just wondering your opinions on the changing times and tides of socially acceptable behavior and cultural traditions and holidays.  What are your experiences and feelings on the topics?

“Hey! Don’t talk about my doctor that way!”

I’m not saying I’m champion of MDs or anything.  Some of them…a lot of them…a real asshats.  Especially if you don’t know them really well, like a doctor that might see you in the ER and is not your regular doc.  In my experience, they hate being told anything.  Obviously, if you are seen for a condition– say, migraines, in my case– you inevitably pick up some info along the way.  Now that almost anyone can access the internet in some way or another, many of us research our conditions.  I understand doctors go through extensive schooling and internships to become proficient at their career…but that doesn’t mean every patient that walks into their exam room is a mindless moron with no clue about their own body or condition.

That aside, unless you are a complete moron, you will likely rely on a doctor to save your life, at least once in your life.  Even if you don’t have any chronic health issues.  (Have you ever considered how many little health issues would soon become life threatening, or at the very least, unbearably uncomfortable, if there wasn’t that small but necessary fix?  A dose of penicillin or a few stitches in the right spot.)

Anyway, a long time by and by, I had a therapist who was a little…unconventional.  Okay, he was weird.  He kept an “office” in a small building out behind his house, and he allowed his dogs and cats to roam freely in the room during session.  That much I was cool with.  I love animals, and maybe that’s why he did it–because he knows a lot of his patients might have a favorable reaction to the presence of a dog or cat.  (Don’t know how he’d handle a client with allergies, as even without the animals in the room, their fur and dander was probably still all over the room.)  What bothered me was the casual way he seemed not to notice when the cat stretched up to knead at his crotch.

That, and him asking me about my sex life.  Maybe that’s a normal thing for a therapist to ask about, but I was only nineteen or twenty at the time, and it seemed like that was a topic I* should bring up (if I wanted to discuss it), not him.

Anyway, I had one of his business cards in my wallet, and my (douche canoe ex) boyfriend at the time told me the pic on the card made my doc look like a child molester.  I kinda blew up.  It pissed me off.  I was like “Don’t say that! I* have to go see this guy for therapy!”  Maybe it bothered me so much because I was already uncomfortable with the guy.

**“What does a child molester look like?” you may ask.

Just kidding, Michael…

Anyhoo…  I do have one doc I really like.  Ironically, it’s my OB/GYN.  She’s cool.  It was kind of lucky I met her, since we had just moved out here and I only picked her out of the available docs by chance.  She’s about my age.  She listens to me, trusts and respects my opinion.  She’s funny.  Hubby likes her as well (of course he’s met her numerous times; she did deliver our daughter.)

I got a sealed envelope from their office in the mail the other day.  Hubby happened to notice the name of the office on the outside and immediately started taking the piss out of me.  ”Is that from your vag doctor?”

And then… oh, dear God, hubby, I know you didn’t just refer to my OB/GYN as “Dr. Scratch & Sniff!”

This is my life.  ~sigh~

No Disrespect But…To Be Honest…

A lot of people like to think they know other people, that they’re adept at detecting deception and above being fooled.  I always cringe when people recite that drivel about how people’s eyes move “up and to the right” for the truth and “down and to the left” for a lie, or whatever they say it is.  I remember very clearly when I was in college, one of my psychology professors telling the class that this was patently false.  Directionality of gaze was not so much the issue; rather a person averting their gaze in general, or being unable to look someone else in the eyes, could signify deception.

Then again, it could signify a lot of things; distraction, feelings of inadequacy or shyness, feelings of guilt (unrelated to lying.)  Plus, anyone who’s ever been done dirty by a spouse or best friend could probably tell you it’s completely possible for a person to look you square in the eyes and lie to your face.

Of course, I’m digressing, as usual.  The point is, a lot of the so-called clues to detecting when someone is lying to you, seem, in my opinion, vague and unable to be extrapolated to the majority of people with enough accuracy to be conclusive.  That may read like a mouthful, but all I really mean is that these “tells” don’t occur with enough consistency or reliability to be useful in most situations.  There are too many variables, and unless you are the type of person who likes to take chances with your relationships, you don’t want to accuse someone you care about of lying unless you’re damn sure.

Perfect example;  I’ve seen it mentioned before that people who qualify their statements with remarks like “To tell you the truth,” “Frankly,” and “To be honest,” are actually unconsciously cuing you to the fact that they are about to lie to you.

Am I the only person, then, that regularly uses those expressions…and then proceeds to do exactly that– tell the truth?  I can’t speak for everyone, but when I use that phrase, it usually means that what I’m about to tell you will either seem A) surprising/unexpected coming from me, or B) that what I am about to say is going to be the truth, but perhaps an unpleasant truth.  

Anyway, I’m definitely not disputing that there are often physiological and physical signs present when a person is lying.  However, I think these signs need to be taken in context.  The fact that lie detector tests are not considered reliable or accurate enough to be used in court should be at least some indication that many of these signs of deception are not consistent enough between subjects to be 100% reliable.  I would guess that some indicators are also more accurate than others.  For instance, involuntary reactions like pupil dilation and micro-expressions would likely be a more reliable indicator of deception than a turn of phrase, such as “To tell the truth,” the use of which is subjective depending on the speaker.  (For instance, perhaps that phrase was used frequently throughout the speaker’s childhood by his mother, and thus is a learned mannerism and has no bearing on deception.)

I’m sure there are people out there like Dr. Cal Lightman in Lie to Me* (I think they’re called poker players), and I have great admiration for people with that skill set.  But I doubt there are many of us regular Joes that can do what Cal does.  I’d wager that individually, how effective each of us is as a human lie detector will depend, in one part, on how much we know our subject, and in another part, how observant and aware we are of other people in general.

Tangential to that topic, I’ve heard it said that people who preface their opinions with “No offense intended,” “No disrespect,” or some similar sentiment, are in fact, about to insult you.

This is another blanket statement with which I disagree.  It may be true that a lot of people use this phrase as a passive aggressive way to take a jab at someone, but–and again, I’ll only speak for myself here– when I say “No disrespect,” it is often when I know my opinion is directly contradictory to the other persons’s, or when there seems to be no way to stand behind my point without seeming combative.  It’s been my experience that some people become almost automatically defensive and even hostile when confronted with an opinion that is very different from their own.  Some people take it as a personal affront.  If you don’t believe me, scroll through your Facebook wall.  I’m sure you’ll eventually find at least one ridiculously hostile argument over politics, religion, sports, or something even less significant.

Anyway, as usual, I’ve sort of taken a short post and gotten way too analytical about it.  Thanks for bearing with me and my rambling.

And if  you don’t like it, No disrespect, But to be Honest...fuck you.  (Just kidding…sort of.)

Angel on my Shoulder

A combination of two things has lead me to this post.  1) Some of the silly things that people say to others who are grieving and 2) Conversations between my husband and I, brought on by — what else– the binge viewing of our latest series, Supernatural (yeah, I know, we’re a bit behind the times.)

Suffice it to say, I’ve had angels on the brain.  What they are.  The nature of angels.  Especially the paradox of an angel, who presumably has not been given the gift of free will that humans enjoy, yet nonetheless is able to choose to defy or oppose God, and thus, fall.  I don’t really have a full enough knowledge of the bible to be able to reconcile this.  Perhaps the answers are there, perhaps not.  But what really piqued my curiosity was something my husband said while we were watching our show.

Sometimes his wealth of knowledge still surprises me.  Don’t tell him, because we don’t want to swell his head all up.  But what he said was that one of the biblical descriptions of an angel alluded to a creature shaped like a wheel, and covered in eyes.  Something about that just really intrigued me.  My regular readers would probably be not at all surprised to learn I almost immediately thought of the Alex Grey art for the Tool albums.

Lateralus artwork- Alex Grey

Well, that, and in my mind’s eye, I also saw a more traditional “wheel”, the circumference of which was runged like a ladder and studded with stylized eyes. Something about the image was just so intriguing to me.

So I did what I always do in situations like these; I googled that shit.  First and foremost, I wanted to check the accuracy of hubby’s memory–  hey, he’s impressive, but his memory has been known to be, eh…selective…and I’m a natural skeptic.  But in this case, he didn’t let me down, and I found some basic information on the angels to which hubby was referring.  Wikipedia describes Ophanim as:

The ophanim or ofanim, refer to the wheels seen on Ezekiel’s vision of the chariot (Hebrew merkabah) in Ezekiel 1:15-21

“The Ophanim…are creatures that function as the actual chariots of God driven by the cherubs. They are characterized by peace and submission; God rests upon them. [They] reside in the area of the cosmos where material form begins to take shape.  They mete out divine justice and maintain the cosmic harmony of all universal laws.

I love this image of angels– the mystery of it, the otherworldliness and distinctly non-anthropomorphic visioning of one of God’s creations.  Something not based on a purely xenocentric imagining of some man, with a man’s motives.  

Granted, this description was likely written by the same person or persons who initially transcribed the rest of the bible, but it is a far cry from the Renaissance era imaginings of angels.

Anyway, I’m not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but I do consider myself spiritual, and this image speaks to me in a way that makes me almost wish I did have a dogma that included creatures as awesome as the Ophanim.

Things Not To Say to A Grieving Person (Me, At Least)

Obviously, when it comes to death, everyone handles it differently.  Though the stages of grief may be similar, every person’s individual experience with grief is unique.  Differerent people find comfort in different things.

Death can be a touchy subject for many, myself included, and that means finding the right thing to say to a grieving person can be hard.  In the wake of losing another acquaintence from high school, I have been reflecting once again on society, people, and the role of social media in the grieving process.  Many people are clueless when it comes to tact, even in their everyday life, but especially in times of other people’s sorrow. Often, even well meaning people unwittingly say the wrong things.

My personal policy is , when in doubt, keep your mouth shut.

Unfortunately, a lot of these people don’t have any doubts about the stupid things that may come out of their mouths.

As I said before, everyone finds comfort in different things, so to say that all grieving people would be annoyed or insulted by these things would be presumptuous of me.  But I will say, when I’m grieving, I do sometimes want to smack people who say certain things.

So here are a few things I try to make it a point not to say to someone who has lost someone else.

1) Who died? - Especially with the emergence of social media sites and “smart phones”, people seem to have forgotten some very basic manners.  If you must look in on your friends’ grief when they post about losing someone, there are waaaay  more tactful ways to ask about their loss then “who died?” (Yes, I actually saw someone say this, this morning.)

2) They’re in a better place-  Oh, really?  That’s nice.  Personally, I prefer being above ground to below ground.  Oh, you meant Heaven?  Well, that’s sweet of you to say.  Really a nice thought… except, I’m an atheist, so…yeah.

3) At least they’re not suffering- Yeah, you may be right.   Maybe their long battle with cancer is over, or they no longer have to fight their addiction…  Or maybe they were just out with friends last week, having a grand old time, smiling and laughing, enjoying their life until it ended, perhaps suddenly and unexpectedly.  You know… not suffering.  

4) She/He’s lived a good long life-  Yup.  In fact, their life was maybe so awesome and good that they (and the people who loved them) will probably miss them like crazy, and wouldn’t have minded them sticking around for a bit longer.

5) Heaven has another angel- Um… like I said…atheist.  But even if I wasn’t…humans don’t become angels when they die, do they?  I thought angels were created by God before humans ever existed.  Maybe I’m being ungracious,, and people are just saying things like this to find comfort in what is likely a very confused and upsetting time… But, again, to me at least, these types of sentiments ring a little false.

6) The good die young- Yep.  But, then again, so do pimps, drug dealers, and, often, rock stars.  Chances are, the deceased was none of the above.  We all have light and dark.  The fact that there seems to be no rhyme or reason to who lives and who dies is part of what makes death so hard to accept.  And please, don’t say

7) It was part of God’s plan

Not to me, anyway.  I might not be able to restrain myself from smacking you and then telling you it was in God’s plan.

I have also heard some people say that they hate it when people say “If you need to talk…”

I personally don’t think that would bother me, unless the person saying it never seemed to notice my existence before my grief.  Some people just thrive on other people’s drama.  And maybe grieving people get tired  of talking.  If you feel you must say something else, asking your grieving friend or relative “what can I do (for you/ to help)?” may be reasona;ly safe, and then leave them the option of what telling you what it is specfically they need (and it may not be someone to talk to…)

Basically, unless your grieving friend opens one of these avenues of conversation (for example: indicating they believe in Heaven, or mentioning that they are glad their loved one’s suffering is done) the best bet when addressing someone who is in mourning is to just say, “I’m sorry” and not much else.

                              In Memory Of Greg Knapstein (1981-2013)

Happy Birthday, Maynard!

Reblogged from alienredqueen:

Happy Birthday to my favorite person I wish I knew but actually don't, Maynard James Keenan.  One of my all-time favorite artists who, I am happy to say, is still among the land of the living, and still making kick-ass music.  If you need even more reasons why I love Maynard, check out these videos of Maynard...being Maynard.    

Read more… 1 more video

I've been very lazy of late... Don't judge me! I wanted to have a new Maynard post ready for today, to celebrate my favorite musician's birthday, but I'm sleep deprived, and I have cramps, and I just realized my old Victoria's Secret underwear has become my period panties and my new Joe Boxer underwear is now my good underwear, and that just hits me on a very emotional level.

SO here's last years Maynard Birthday Post! Yay!

Police and the Use of Force

Watching a little more mindless entertainment on Netflix.  Crossing Jordan.  I love crime dramas, and I watch a lot of different ones, (much to my husband’s dismay.) But it’s interesting to me how often this so-called “mindless entertainment” actually leads to thought provoking…er…thoughts.

So this particular episode of Crossing Jordan deals with an alleged cop killer who dies in police custody.  (*I say alleged because there is no question in the scope of the show that the suspect did kill a cop, in real life he is of course presumed innocent until trial.)  Upon examination by the coroner  it’s discovered that the suspect has petechial hemorrhages in his eyes, which although possibly indicative of many things, often indicates strangulation.  Upon opening his head, it’s discovered he has a bruise on his brain, basically the result of hitting his head/being hit in the head so hard that his brain slaps against the inside of his skull.  Though he is alive when apprehended, he dies sometime during transit to the station and is instead taken to a hospital.

There is pressure from all sides to either discover or cover up what happened.  There’s a coroner’s inquest.

In the end it is revealed that one of the arresting officers did indeed kneel on the suspect’s back to (in his own words) maintain control of the situation.  The suspect was, according to the officer, acting erratic (as if on drugs), and was also quite large (6’4″,) and a known* cop killer.  It is implied that perhaps a stranglehold was used to subdue the suspect, something that is against police policy, according to a senior officer.  There were no drugs found in the suspect’s blood, so again it is suggested excess force was used.

Eventually, it is discovered that the brain injury sustained by the deceased suspect occurred three days before the arrest (essentially around the time the suspect killed the officer victim.)  Not only is the injury the cause of the suspect’s erratic behavior, but likely contributed to his death in custody.

And as often happens, a TV drama leads hubby and I into a serious discussion:   Why is it against police policy to use force?

I know a lot of people mistrust cops.  I know a lot of people hate cops.  Lastly, and most importantly, I know there are bad cops.  However, I have immense respect for cops.  You may not trust them, or like them, but chances are, if you’re in trouble or need help, you will call them. And you expect them to come, and to protect you.  So why do you expect them to do this, essentially without being allowed to use force to defend themselves?  There is necessary force, and unnecessary force, but in a given situation, it has to be up to the persons involved to decide what is necessary.

Sadly, incidents like the Rodney King incident in 1991 taint the reputation of the police force and have far reaching and damaging repercussions on police procedure.   And with suspects able to file even illegitimate claims against officers for brutality, police officers daily in a situation where they face bodily injury or death if they run across the wrong suspect, but face inquest, job loss,  and possible criminal charges for using “excessive force” to defend themselves.

Am I alone is feeling that if a person violently resists arrest, tries to harm an officer (either intentionally or due to drugs or mental instability) that an officer should be able to use force to defend themselves and keep themselves and their partner safe, even as a preemptive measure?

Am I alone is feeling like most people know that cops have guns and can use lethal force if a weapon is weilded at them, and consequently, if a suspect becomes violent or resists, it’s their own damn fault if they get their ass kicked or killed?  To be clear, I’m not advocating cops beating on people for no reason, or using excessive force on non-violent offenders, or in any way taking advantage of their position of authority, but I do believe we expect police to do a generally dangerous and thankless job for relatively little pay, and we should give them the benefit of the doubt in most situations where force is necessary.

I don’t know much about the supposed blue wall.  I’m sure it does exist in some departments, among some cops.  But is it at all possible that if those officers felt safer in their jobs, and felt as if they were backed up by the law in cases where force was required, they might not need to “cover” for one another in some cases?

In conclusion, these are just my personal thoughts and feelings as related to police– they’re not backed by statistics of science.  But since police are essentially civil servants with whom virtually everyone has either tangential or direct contact at some point in their lives, I figure we are all entitled at least to an opinion (as I’ve said before, opinions are one of the only true rights humans really do have!)

Police Brutality? Bitch, please!

Update (aka: What Sh*t is Going Down this Friday) (*updated)

The academic portion of my studies in dog training with the Animal Behavior College has nine stages.  Some of them are longer than others, and after each stage, I take an open book test.  I can study online any time, but I requested hard copies of the material.  It’s no extra charge and not only is it easier for me to study that way, with less note-taking, but I’ll also have the materials at hand for any future reference.  But my books haven’t come yet, and I didn’t want to waste time, as my first Stage Exam was due only a week after the projected date of the books’ arrival (April 19th,) so I started studying online.

This was about a week and a half ago.

Today, I got the grade for my Stage 3 exam!  Yes, I have completed three stages (or chapters, as I like to think of them,) and taken three exams.  I’ve gotten 94%, 97%, and 95% respectively.  The second stage exam was on learning theory.  Permit me to brag a moment… Wait! I don’t need your permission; this is my blog!  Anyway, my academic “handler” told me that he was pleasantly surprised by my score, as many students have trouble with that chapter.  I told him I’m sure my background in psychology helped, as this was kind of like a refresher.

Pavlov’s Dog
(photo: howstuffworks.com)

Anyway, I’m really pleased with my progress, and have been checking the mail everyday on the off-chance my books come early (I received an email that they had been shipped, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.)  I’d like to have them before starting Stage 4; I don’t want to take notes by hand anymore.  All I need is my trusty highlighter!

On another note, today is pizza day!  On Fridays, hubby and I often have a friend over and order either pizza or Japanese from Yamato.  I just found out Little Caesar’s still has/just got back their square, deep dish pizza.  And considering that I’ve sort of fallen off the strict calorie watching wagon (well, I was only ever hitching a ride on that bad boy to begin with,) I decided I needed to really torch some calories today.   Four pieces of that pizza will cost me about 1350 calories…  And let’s be real; I can easily eat four pieces.   Also, it’s ridiculous how excited I get over the prospect of yummy food.

New Image, courtesy of the AlienRedQueen

See, you replace the dog food with…well, food food.  And that little dog there represents me– you can tell because of the eyeliner I added and the bad-ass doggie tattoo (there wasn’t enough room to put “Mom” on it.)

Now I’m just killing time, trying to kill calories, and keeping my kid happy until pizza time.

So, anyway, that’s my Friday in a nutshell.  How’s yours?

Update on the Update:  MY BOOKS ARE HERE!  Thank you, UPS man!

My goody box! Two head collars and a halter, as well as treat samples and a free Kong! See my sexy polo shirt?