Sickly Sidney

As I have written about before in Sid the Sloth, my dad and Sharon got a new puppy.

My car has been trying to kill me for a long time. It does this thing where it jerks into not shifting gears, and often this occurs on the highway, or while I am driving on crowded streets. It is quite dangerous, and because of all the jerking my car has been doing, I got a crack in my radiator that turned into a split. I needed to get my car fixed, and seeing as the car shop is farther away from my dad's house than walking, I have to have a ride back home.

So I went to my dad's house on Monday afternoon with all the intentions of getting my car to shop, having dinner with my dad and Sharon, and spending the night so I could get my car the next day.

Instead I went to the doggy hospital.

Sid had that morning gotten into slug poison. He didn't eat a copious amount of it, mostly because he is ridiculously finicky, and instead probably swallowed some pellets by accident. That small amount was enough to cause widespread effects across his systems. Six hours after he had digested the tiny amount of slug killer, he was a slobbering, shaking, confused mess. Basically it was really scary.

My dad at first thought he had peed all over himself, and blamed me for the mess since I was "too lazy to let him out." In reality, he looked tired when I had gotten upstairs, and since he didn't immediately ask to be let out I figured he didn't have to pee. Instead I went and made popcorn and waited for dad to get home, which upon his arrival, it was made obvious that Sid was anything but tired.

When we realized that he needed to be taken to the doggy hospital, dad pulled him out of the kennel and carried him downstairs. I followed with dad's wallet and keys, helped him get into the truck, and we went to Petsmart which was also the vet's office. Sid was immediately admitted, and Dad and I were left waiting in Room 2.

The vets gave him IV fluids trying to rehydrate him, and then had to also administer Diazepam because he had a seizure. It was almost a half hour before the vet came to talk to us. She explained that slug poison was basically the deadliest stuff a dog could get into. Not only did it severely dry the dogs out, but the slug poison also had a second component to it that attacked the nervous systems of slugs, and consequently, dogs. So basically Sid's little puppy systems were shutting down because the big system, the nervous system, wasn't really in control anymore.

And Sid having a seizure was a bad sign. The vet told us his chances weren't good.

We had to transport him to a different vet clinic, because the Petsmart there wasn't an overnight clinic. So we loaded him back into the truck, now wrapped in a blanket, and drove to the emergency vet clinic. When we finally got there, (after I got us lost...) we passed him off to the new vets, and waited in yet another room marked with a 3.

It was a little while before the new vet came in to give us a very dire diagnosis. Basically he had a fifty/fifty chance. And even after he got better from the initial effects of the slug poison, he might not be the same. She told us he could be temporarily blind, suffer from seizures the rest of his life, and/or not have the same brain function or liver function. It was really upsetting to think that our ten month old puppy might not wake up tomorrow.

With heavy hearts, and a signed paper of DO NOT RESUSCITATE, we left the emergency clinic and went home.

Sharon was pretty freaked out and called the clinic every two hours the whole night. Every call ended with Sid having relatively no change. It was of course a good sign he wasn't getting worse, but really we wanted to hear he was getting better.

Finally around six in the morning we got the good news that he was on the mend. The slug poison had passed through his system, and we got the go ahead to pick him up around four that afternoon.

I was super relieved, and happy. Not only because Sid was going to be fine, (at least until his liver tests came back), and he didn't seem to be blind in any capacity.

My dog Dash was also happy to see his little brother come home. The whole night before, he moped about like Sid was really dead, and I could see how he just became a younnger dog when Sid made it home and was not in fact dead. And even though Sid wasn't 100% yet, he eventually did bounce back.

A few days later, he came back with excellent liver tests results. We were home free! Sid was a healthy dog.

He apparently didn't learn any lessons though because a few days later, he chewed an air conditioner hose.

Puppies v. Babies

I went to visit my cousin last week and to actually see the tiny human he created. I will say that I have baby sat a lot of babies, but they are usually a few months older than a fresh two week old baby. So I was disappointed when Greyson basically bored me to tears.

Now, I say he bored me to tears, and it is a bit of an exaggeration. My eye problems are still persisting, and thus I can not actually cry because they are so dry. That being said, I had no idea how boring babies could actually be. I mean, he seriously just sat there in his baby house not doing anything.

He fell asleep.

He woke up.

He cried.

He got fed.

He went back to sleep.

Honestly, I wonder how babies make it past baby-dom. I mean, they are so incredibly boring. You can't do anything with a baby that age. They have to be held a certain way, fed a certain amount, changed almost every hour...

I have concluded that puppies are in fact WAY cooler than babies. Not only are they relatively self sufficient, (they play with their own paws, lick their own butts, and can walk around), they are way more amusing. Honestly, if a puppy falls of the couch, people laugh. But if your baby falls off a couch, you are gonna have to talk to Child Protective Services. 

Pro: Puppies are way less breakable.

Puppies can eat practically anything. Shoes, hats, pillowcases, dog food, cat food, hamster food. Babies have a very specific diet. Milk or formula for a long-ass time, and then maybe mushy foods, then maybe not so mushy foods, and then maybe even less mushy foods... you get my point.

Pro: Puppies don't need mushy food.

You don't have to change a puppies diaper. You just put him outside, he goes potty, then you can rough house with him. You can't put a baby outside, then play tug with him. That is a BIG no-no.

Pro: Puppies are way more fun.

My final point, (for the discussion as such) is that you don't have to buy little clothes for a puppy. Babies need loads of clothes, that have a tendency to ruin at any given moment. Babies can suddenly explode with poop for no reason other than he just decides to poop as much as he possibly can, even if his diaper can't contain such an explosion. Puppies don't need clothes! They are covered in soft, fluffy fur that is totally washable. You can't go hose your baby off with a hose in the backyard, but puppies are free game. Played in the mud? Hose. Rolled in a dead thing? Hose. Pooped all over your cage, ate said poop, then vomited all over yourself? HOSE!

Pro: Puppies are easy to clean.

In conclusion, in the Puppy vs. Baby debate, puppies clearly win. So for anyone out there thinking they want a baby to play with, the obvious choice is to get a puppy instead. Babies are no fun, have a self-destruct button on their heads, can't play tug, and have no use for hoses.

Honestly, was there even a chance babies would win anyways?

The First Debate

I am just gonna put it out there now: I am an Obama supporter.

That being said, I quite enjoyed this first debate. Both candidates were actually working to make their points, and I appreciated that. It wasn't like when McCain and Obama debated, nor was it the very boring debates between Kerry and Bush.

While I truly wished that there was some more time for Romney and Obama to duke it out some more, (seriously, can't we give them like an hour and half?) I did like watching how the two men went at things.

Firstly, I am a slow arguer, so I would normally like Obama's approach of thinking things over before answering. But in a timed debate, I definitely grew frustrated with how long he was taking. I know that in a perfect world, they should get time to think, but if you only have an hour, PLEASE get to the point/make a point! Romney was definitely quicker to bite, but on that same note, I felt like I wasn't getting as much information, or he was redirecting back to some other statement he made in the debate.

Secondly, can they stop with the smug smiles? Every time something was said that the other thought they could use in opposition of each other, they had to smile smugly. Boys! You are on camera! Keep a poker face!

Thirdly, please let the mediator, mediate! He is trying to keep you within your time slots. Romney was awful at this, always having to have the last word, and going way over his time slot. Obama certainly did it too, but come on! "No, wait, the President got to speak first, so I need to finish this." That is a bunch a bullshit. You guys aren't "finishing" anything. Nothing has been determined as the "right" way to run government. You are just letting the American people know what you are standing for and how you are different or similar to each other.

Lastly, I wish that there would be actual specifics made. Like on education, the energy crisis, the economy, healthcare, etc. I like tangibility.

I also have a side point, mostly on the economy part of the debate. Romney was complaining about Obama isn't working and that his "grand plan" of getting more jobs would equal more revenue for the government. While I agree that more people working would add an overall amount of money in taxes to government, one cannot simply employ 12 million people at the turn of a hat. If that was possible, then I think it would already have been done and implemented. But since obviously 12 million people have not been suddenly employed, I am pretty sure that Romney does not hold some magic card that will make that happen. Obama's plan, which definitely seems more coherent and thought out, won't fix the economy, but it will certainly help more than more spending on military and less taxes on the rich.

"Mind If I Have a Smoke?"

So while my mother would love it if I didn't waste my time blogging whilst at school, I thought this was definitely an appropriate thing to blog about.

Firstly, as with many colleges (universities and community colleges like mine), there are "Campus Events" that happen periodically for seemingly no reason at all. Today was Cancer Awareness Day. I don't know exactly what the day's events entail, especially since all of the fake lungs, hearts, stomaches, colins, bones and bags of blood are set up in the cafeteria, but I do know that I get free food for pretending to be interested.

Basically, students just had to walk around, talk to the people in scrubs, get a piece of paper signed, and BAM! Free food of the nacho chip (no nacho dip) and sandwich wrap variety.

This is all well and good, except that we are all walking around looking at blackened organs, diseased skin, large white masses of I-don't-know-what, huge blown up pictures of moles, and decrepit looking people in wheel chairs with oxygen nose tubes.

Definitely unappetizing.

And of course, the coup d'etat, a giant poster with a suave looking man saying, "Mind if I have a smoke?"

His lady-friend replies, "Mind if I just die?"

I think it is time to eat somewhere else than the plastic organ freak show happening in the main causeway of the cafeteria.

It's Just Sad

Honestly, the state of things really is sad. I should be happy my cousin had a healthy baby, that I am getting through my classes, that my kitten is spayed. But I am not, and it is for a VERY specific reason.

See, my very good friend Gina, who even has a post dedicated to her, went crazy like a mother fucking Tasmanian Devil.

Firstly, she went and got pregnant with this guy who is so disinterested in her, it is almost not funny. He wants nothing to do with her so bad that he moved out of his mom's house and to his dad's that is in bum-fuck-nowhere, with no car, and definitely no motivation to get within a 39 and 1/2 foot pole length of her.

Then she got a little crazier, and broke into her mother's Yahoo Messenger, printed off some possibly suspicious, but not outright, blatantly stated messages. She "had to find them and show [her] dad." Of course, breaking into someone's account, or reading someone's diary, or going through someone's phone is to ME wrong on all counts, so I was more than annoyed. But I wasn't annoyed that she did these mean, malicious things to her mom. No, I was pissed the fuck off because, for whatever reason, she thought I was going to somehow think it was permissible for her to try to break her parents up.

I come from a broken home, and while my parents didn't have this horrible, awful break up, it was incredibly hard, and probably made harder by the simple fact that I understood what was going on. I was definitely old enough to catch on. My little brother was immune to all of the sadness, but I was twelve years old, and suddenly I was taking care of Alex during the whole summer while my parents worked all day.

So when she told me in general terms what she had done, I was rightfully pissed. She had made no thought for her brother and sister who were younger, socially challenged, and home schooled by her mother.

I told her not to come over, and it was soon after that we got into a fight. A few days after the fight, I had a serious emotional break down. Instead of being like a normal girl and crying it out about how unfair things were, I bottled up everything I was feeling. I became so incredibly pissed, and was on the verge of hurting someone I cared about. I could barely talk to people. While at work, my coworkers would talk to me, and all I could manage was to be incredibly pissed off, and answer tersely. I considered finding a kick boxing class so that I could push my anger into something as opposed to someone.

And then I had an idea.

Take Gina out of the equation.

So I sent her a very long text about how I could no longer be friends with someone who was so manipulative, cruel, mean, and vindictive. Because that was who she had become. I suppose I should have noticed earlier, maybe when she had been so psycho about how Carl didn't want to be with her monogamously. It should have been a warning sign when she was incredibly jealous of me hanging with Kyra, Ambria, or Gage. I should have maybe taken a step back when she started getting piss drunk after she had fights with my ex-boyfriend over me.

But I didn't until she did this horrible thing to her mom.

The worse part about what she did to her mom was that the messages weren't even very incriminating. Of course, I haven't seen the messages, but the way Gina would just not talk about them make me think there was really nothing of alarm.

And here I was thinking the end of our friendship was the saddest part of the night. But it wasn't.

See, it was tonight, (oh faithful Friday night), that I got to find out the coup d'etat. Gina told her mom, in a way to scare her mom into believing she knew something, that I had been spying on her. She told her I had incriminating photos of her mother and this dude. That I had been creeping around, taking pictures of her mom, because I obviously had no life what-so-ever, and could spend my time walking up and down the street waiting for her mom to boink some unsuspecting guy.

I guess I should be mad that Gina would say something like that. But honestly, it is so freaking expected for her to act like this crazy, conniving little person. But what I am really upset by is that her mother believed the lying daughter. When I was the only person who helped her make dinner for her family of seven plus whatever friends were over.

I peeled EGGS with the woman! I made egg fucking salad with her because she had four other things cooking. How she could believe that I would spy on her, when I am the number one seller of Do Your Own Thing, You Only Live Once, Life Is What You Make It, Live Like You're Dying, Shoot First Ask Questions Later. 

But no. Her mom just went ahead an believed that I was just as mean and conniving as Gina.

She was informed that there were no photos, of course. As a compulsive truth-teller, and definitely requiring my name to be a tabula rasa, I made sure she got the message that I was not some creepy picture taker/stalker.

My step brother told me a funny thing, after I talked to him and Sharon about this newest situation.

"It's like if you have a cup on a table, and you say there is a dollar under the cup. You pick up the cup, and there is no dollar. What did Gina think was going to happen? She doesn't have a dollar."

Baby Greyson

On September 16, (my mom's birthday), my cousin called me while I was at work to inform me that his girlfriend, Dana, had officially gone into labor. I was working the night shift, so it was possible that I wasn't going to be able to leave until ten that night. Sabastian wanted me to come up to the hospital though, so I made concerted efforts showing that the restaurant was not busy and therefore didn't need my awesome bussing skills.

Finally, around 6:30, my manager asked if I wanted to skidaddle, and I quickly agreed to shorten my shift. I was walking out the gate by 7. I walked to my car, called Sabastian and made sure to find out the key information I would need to not feel like a lost idiot. What parking lot, and which entrance I should use was part of that key information, as well as where exactly the elevators were located so that I could get to the second floor.

After hanging up, I drove home, changed my clothes, brushed my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed my Nook which had a new book downloaded on it. I hoped in my car, typed in the address for the hospital, and made my way down long, winding backstreets, and across a freeway I didn't even know existed. It was almost eight thirty by the time I got there, and dark outside.

I called my cousin again to let him know I was in the hospital, and met him on the second floor elevator entrance. It was clear that this was the baby birthing floor. Grandparents and little kids milled around, waiting for new children to be born. Sabastian led us past the happily waiting folks and to Dana's room.

It was dark when I walked in. When my cousin and I had spoken on the phone earlier, I had expected Dana to be in pain, or walking around, or doing other labor-like things. Instead she was asleep.

"That's the epidural. She says she can't feel a thing now." That was a weird concept to me. Of course, having never had a child of my own, (an aspiring to not have kids until after getting my Masters, at least) I didn't know how childbirth was. But I had a feeling that since women have been giving birth for thousands of years without pain killers, I thought an epidural was sort of an easy way out of the real childbirth process. But I didn't fault her for not wanting to be in pain.

Sabastian and I sat in the quiet dark, and I used the meager lighting from a low lying lamp to read. We were the only ones there until around ten when our grandparents came. They greeted us and Dana, acting like the excited, doting grandparents they wished they were. There was the SNAFU of them not going to the baby shower a few weeks earlier because "Sabastian never visits us," but my cousin seemed to forgive them. I smiled a little, having not forgotten their snub, and continued reading my book.

I texted my mom about the growing party of people, and she told me my Aunt Tracy was also arriving soon. I hadn't seen her in a long time, mostly because I was purposely avoiding her for how she treated me at my high school graduation. Three years later, and she still made me angry. But it was supposed to be a happy time, so I made that ghost of a smile that I gave my grandparents, and read further into my book.

Finally my Uncle John and his wife Christy showed up, and with disney movies in hand. It was almost eleven, and Dana's water had already been broken, and she had been checked three or four times to gauge how many centimeters she was. When I had arrived, she was only three, but as we put in Pocahontas, she was somewhere between eight and nine centimeters.

We got all the way through the movie, and the day had just turned over into Monday, the seventeenth. Dana had Sabastian call the nurse, because she was starting to feel a lot of pressure. The nurse came and kicked everyone out but Sabastian, and we were sequestered to the waiting area. I was unperturbed about being sent away. I wanted nothing to do with babies squeezing out of small places.

Tracy made me come and sit with her and my grandparents while we waited. We chatted for a minute about my own personal plans for my school success and the fact that I didn't want children, for a long time at least, or maybe at all. Then Tracy got antsy, and had to go listen at the door for the birth, leaving me and my grandparents. I would have been fine not talking to them at all. I didn't really have much to say to these people who had tried to insert themselves into my life way later than most grandparents. They hardly new anything about me other than I had dated a black guy, and was uninterested in sports.

Grandpa asked, like usual, "So you got a boyfriend?"

And like usual, "Nope," I responded.

"Oh, well, you will. I mean you go to college. I am sure there are boys there that want to be with you."

I shrugged, "It doesn't really matter. I am too focused on school to want to pay someone any attention." I clenched my jaw a little, annoyed that he seemed to feel my worth was on weather I had a boy to "support" me.

"You shouldn't be that focused," he clicked his tongue like I was a bad dog. "A girl like you needs a boy."

I sighed. It was obvious how much he didn't know my need for independence. I didn't respond to his comment, looking at my Nook.

"Is your mother going to come up here?" She was always "my mother" not his daughter. It didn't matter that he wasn't her biological father. She called him Dad.

"No, I don't think so. She is just getting home from her Birthday Bike Ride."

"That shouldn't stop her."

I came to her defense immediately. "It's not her child having a child. It's her nephew having a child. She doesn't have to be here if she is tired and can't make it. This is a special time for Trace and John. She doesn't need to intrude. I am here because Sabastian is more like an older brother to me than my own brother. She's just rode 77 miles in three days. She will see Greyson soon, and certainly isn't required to come to the hospital at one in the morning when she has work tomorrow." I was furious that he would just make a statement that it is her responsibility to show up to the hospital on a Monday morning because my cousin was having a baby.

"She could come up."

I bristled like a dog. "There are a lot of things people could do, but didn't choose to do for many, many years. But I won't hold that against them." I shook my head. Grandpa shut up, knowing full well that I was referring to the fact that they had barely made an effort to be in my life, or my younger brother's life until we were almost fourteen and eleven, respectively.

Tracy finally came around the corner with Christy telling us that Greyson was born, and that we would be able to see him soon. We all got up and went to wait around the door to the room and heard the baby screaming his ass off. I cringed inwardly, knowing that Sabastian and Dana would be dealing with that for years.

It was nearly an hour before they let us in to see the three of them. Dana was holding Greyson and looking tired, like she always does, and Sabastian was standing next to her, looking happy. Greyson was tiny. His measured twenty-one inches long, and eight pounds, six ounces. I looked at his little red face, which was kind of puckered, but not horribly so. He had Dana's chin, and nose, and Sabastian's unsloped eyes. His face was extra round and cherubic. I checked out his little ears, and saw they had the large detached lobes that Sabastian sported. His eyebrows were light brown, as way the little bit of hair that peeked out from under his hat.

He was basically totally adorable. And his eyes flickered around the room as we all crowded around, cooing, oohing and ahhing. I stroked his little soft cheek and forehead.

"We have to Simba him," I told Dana, and she smiled. "Just a little red clay paint, some excited zebras and elephants, and we got a celebration on our hands."

Tracy, John, Christy and my grandma all cried. I didn't feel that emotional about the situation, but I was happy to seem my new baby cousin healthy, albeit a little confused.

Tracy took her time to tell Dana thank you, I supposed for carrying her grandchild. Even though she had been complaining up to that point that she so did not want to be a grandma.

We all took pictures, and finally, I was tired and hungry enough that I was ready to leave. I told my cousin congrats, whispered things like, "You are going to have the best pseudo Aunt ever," to Greyson, told the ever sleepy Dana goodbye, and made my way with my grandparents and Aunt Tracy to the elevators and my car.

I drove home, feeling tired, but glad that everything went well, and that I was able to be there for my cousin. Three days later, and I haven't heard from him, but I hope things are going well. As for me, I am at school, feeling ever so lucky to not have to be a parent on top of barely not being a teenager.

The Float Trip

My dad and Sharon planned a float trip for July. Originally, Gina was supposed to come, but she didn't on account of many things, so I instead decided to bring my friends Ambria and Steph Dye.

A little background information will probably be good. Firstly, Ambria and I met in seventh grade, and have been steadfast friends. I only discovered around my freshman year of college that the only reason she ever talked to me to begin with was because she thought she would somehow be able to pick on me. Having two brothers and a male cousin has made me pretty unpickable. So my laughing at her attempts at being mean, and our similar intelligence levels made us easy friends. And lets not forget our endless sarcasm.

Steph Dye was met at our high school, freshman year. She was a bit of an enigma, though. She hung out with the seniors and juniors almost exclusively, and was incredibly talented at the cello. We didn't actually talk until we had a mutual class of IB Biology. We happened to sit next to each other, and it was like magic. We never stopped talking since that day.

It was natural for me to pick the two girls. I made all the plans on how to pick them up, procurement of coffee for the morning, and made sure everyone had a book.

Sharon and Dad drove separate cars, Dad in the truck with Sid, and the girls and I with Sharon and Dash.

It was a relatively pleasant drive until we got to the country road part of the trip, and the constant winding of the road made Steph sick.

Nonetheless, she made it through the wilderness, and we were finally able to set up camp. And even though the whole of the country was under drought warning, it managed to rain on us while we set up our tents.

After the tents were set up, we jumped in our bathing suits and headed for the river with the dogs. Sid was a natural swimmer, but my old boy Dash acted like he had never swam in his life.

I was deeply concerned about his annoyance with the river. I didn't want him to not enjoy himself just because he was an old man now.

That night Sharon "let" us drink. I was blasé about it. I was a little afraid to drink after my last bad weekend, so I only drank a few glasses of wine and super spiked punch.

The next morning, Sharon's friends Tammy, Laura and her boyfriend Jim, plus Dad's friend Ryan and his wife Dee. We were picked up on a bus and driven to the drop site, given our tubes and sent on our way.

Our way was an ice cold river on a day that was barely eighty degrees. I wasn't sure how fun it was going to be. After my ass cheeks were frozen solid, my hands and feet were slightly blue, I felt pretty fine. Ambria and Steph seemed to be okay too.

The only issue was that Sharon was not going to let us drink "under any circumstance." Her willpower was degraded over time, and when we finally made it to our second sandbar, I had more fruit punch and several Jello shots. And my dad was weirdly proud of me for showing Ambria and Steph how to do a Jello shot in one fell swoop.

By this point, it was my turn to take Dash. By this, I mean I had Dash laying across me and my inner tube. My sixty-five pound, very furry Australian Shepherd succeeded in elbowing me ribs, spleen, liver, stomach, appendix, and uterus. I thought I might have internal bleeding, but I soldiered on. I couldn't really kick him anyways. He was swimming like a bloated cow.

So for about three and half hours, I had my hot, wet dog draped across me like a quilt. It was about the time my ass was dragging over the twenty-third patch of rocks that I pawned Dash off onto Sharon. He seemed worried but content. She wasn't falling out the bottom of her inner tube, so I think that helped.

It was about hour six into our float that I think I gave up on life. I was sun tired, dehydrated, and had a case of skin pruning that was possibly irreversible. By that point, Dad, Ambria, Steph and I were all tied together via ropes and leashes. Before hand, Ambria and I had been the strongest swimmers and led our caravan away from rocks, trees, and stumps. At that point, we were more like dead weight. We ran into countless rock walls, trees, and fallen brambles. We didn't even have any drive to move out of the way of the drunk psychos jumping off of rock faces into an indeterminate depth of water.

Steph grew frustrated with our completely burned out demeanors. I didn't have any fight left to live though. And every passing person kept telling us how the dock site we needed was "just up the way." Ambria and I sang for the next hour this song for the next hour. We were obnoxious. 


When we actually made it around the river bend and were able to get off the water, I had never felt so relieved. Eight hours of river water and I was ready to not go on another float trip for at least two more years.

We were bused back to our camp site, and like Dash and Sid, Ambria, Steph and I collapsed into a very dead sleep.

Over all it was fun, and looking back on Ambria and I and our utter despondence to the walls of rock and dirt, and our butts being bruised by gravel because we are too tired to plank is pretty funny. We should have prepared ourselves mentally I suppose.