Sunday, January 20, 2013

The last 24 hours

In the last 24 hours:

I took the dog to the dog beach, to let her run out some of this obnoxiousness.  She took off chasing a bird, and crossed over onto the non-dog beach.  I ran after her, but she's a hunting breed.  They're much faster than I am.

Some nasty bitch sitting 100 yards away from the border took it upon herself to yell at me "NO DOGS ON THE BEACH!"  to which I hollered "I KNOW, THAT'S WHY I'M CHASING HER!"

"NOT HARD ENOUGH" came the reply.  It took everything in my power not to turn on my heel and throttle her.

Listen, you sandy cunt, you see that something has gone wrong in a stranger's life, that she is desperately trying to rectify.  Your self-righteous interjection wasn't helpful.  My knees are fucked up, I'm chasing a quadruped who is focused on nothing but a fast-moving bird, and I have a bag of shit in my hand.  My life has obviously gotten out of control.  It would have been more honest for you to just yell "I FEEL MORALLY SUPERIOR TO YOU AND I WANT TO INCREASE YOUR TOTAL MISERY TODAY."  I hope yelling at me made you feel better about yourself, you miserable twat.  If you want a completely dog-free beach experience, go sit 4 towers to the west, not on the goddamn invisible border of dog beach.  I hope you step in shit as you leave.

Viking Roommate:  "Whoa.  Men don't say shit like that, because they know they'll get punched."

I bathed the dog upon returning from the beach (the trip was ruined, all I could think about was wanting to physically hurt a stranger).  It took a while, as she was exceptionally sandy.  Clean dog.

Beer happened.  I like beer.

At 6, I had to get up to feed Diabetic Cat.  His automatic feeders are broken, and I cannot afford to replace them at the moment.  I stumbled into the garage, fed him, and stumbled back to bed.

At 9, Mom came over, and I stumbled out of bed again.  Diabetic Cat was rounded up and plopped into a sink full of warm water, for he was exceptionally filthy.  He has learned that struggling does not help. I secretly think he likes it.  We scrubbed him.

He has apparently stopped clawing trees and things outside, because his front claws were thick and practically curving into his toe pads.  It took wire cutters to trim them back.  Jesus, man, how long has THIS been happening?

We wrapped the soggy cat in towels and began to comb and blow-dry him.  We were almost done when he proceeded to suddenly shit himself.  Fantastic.

We washed the cat again.  He's outside in the sun right now.  We gave up on the blow-dryer.

The clean dog, meanwhile, was frolicking merrily in the dirt patch that was once my lawn and is currently serving as her toilet.  Gleeful digging, and not just a little prancing through her own feces.  Wonderful.  I dragged her towards the hose to wash her feet.

Mom notices that my supply of insulin syringes is low.  "Why don't you call this in and get more?"  Because I had to make a choice between fresh needles and cat food.  We've been reusing them.

I am out of the magic substance that cleans cat pee out of carpet.  That'll be another $90, plus the time it takes to ship it here.

Fuck this weekend.  I'm eating cinnamon rolls.


  1. After what you've been through, I'm surprised you didn't knock her block off (which she totally deserved). All I can say is keep your chin up and I hope things will improve for you.

    1. Thank you. I hope so too. Either I will descend into gibbering madness or start filming it all as a PSA for pet owners.

  2. HOLY. CRAP. Dude, I don't know how you didn't freaking KILL HER. I'd probably throw the damned shit in her face. What a creep. Oh honey, sending you lots of love and hugs.

    1. I decided that I was not going to wrestle with that pig, for I would get dirty and the pig would probably like it. Besides, staircase wit is always more satisfying than an in-person fight.

      What can I say, too much Buddhist influence.