Lucky's New Legs

Lucky, a box turtle from Petaluma, California, hangs out with his girlfriend Lovey. Lucky uses furniture sliders under his shell after his front legs were bitten off by a racoon.

I have never wanted a turtle, THIS turtle, more in my life than I do right now ...

Weekly Shudder

This week: for once, fat Persian cats have a reason to look so pissed.

Choose Your Love

Some say there are only two kinds of people in this world, the happy ones who do what they love and the unhappy ones who don’t. I believe in a third category, one that holds those who don’t do what they love because they have no idea what that actually is. I place myself in this third category, not only because I don’t completely know what I want in life, but also because I haven’t figured out how to effectively pursue it while still meeting my responsibilities.

For the past few years, I’ve worked full time during the day and attended college part time at night. It’s been challenging, to get through such long days and to take four years to earn a two year degree, but that choice was the right one for me at the time. I was recently accepted to a four year university and forced to face a new and difficult decision - do I stay at a job that I don’t necessarily like or do I leave it behind to attend school and face a financially uncertain future?

I am a go-getter. I reach my goals, go the extra mile and always want more. So, the choice literally came down to - do I wait or do I go? Sometimes I imagine my conscience speaks to me like the incomparable Dr. Seuss and in this particular situation, excerpts from Oh, the Places You’ll Go matched each query I had.

In regards to my current position, a pointless but lucrative purgatory …“The Waiting Place … for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow, or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.” In response to staying at my job, something I need but don’t love …“No! That’s not for you! Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!” In reaction to wandering into the unknown, possibly failing … “And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.) Kid, you’ll move mountains! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So …get on your way!”

Ultimately, life is a never ending personal quest to discover what really matters. It is the pursuit to realize a dream, the achievement of a goal, and the experience of being devoted to something. Life is about passion, learning, growth and emotion and by finally understanding that, I was able to discover how to do what I love. That by bettering my self through higher education in order to pursue a career I care about, I put my self into the category where I’m one of the happy people. So, with a fox or in a box, on a train or in the rain …do whatever it is you love.

Last Straw, Brain

This past week, I took an amazing trip up the coast to northern California. I had a great time enjoying the beautiful scenery and being out in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of life in San Diego. After a relaxing day, I drifted off to sleep in a little tent between giant redwoods ... until I woke up crying. Crying! And from a dream! I have such a weird imagination.

Anyway, the situation was this - I was driving way too fast, trying to get onto the freeway next to my old church. I was driving my ex-boyfriend's car and couldn't slow it down. I remember I tried to swerve the car around the SUV in front of me so I wouldn't hit it, but ended up just loosing control. I knew I was going to hit the car going at least 80 miles an hour. I knew I was going to die. I shut my eyes tight and shouted out loud, "I don't want to feel it. Please don't let me feel it." over and over again to myself. I don't know who I was talking to, but apparently it worked. As my eyes were closed, I remember the rush of the wind, the resistance of the other car as I skidded underneath it and the anxious, prickly feeling after I felt myself come to a complete stop. I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to know what happened or how everything looked or what to do next. I was sure I was dead.

Slowly, I allowed my eyelids to separate and take in my surroundings. My car was scrunched underneath the SUV that had previously been in front of me on the shoulder. There were about 7 or more other totaled vehicles near it too. At this point, I was second guessing my living status. Was I really dead? I saw a few others wandering around the crash site, but couldn't see any obvious signs of fatal trauma. I could feel that something was wrong with me, but I wouldn't allow myself to look down at my body. I didn't want to confirm my suspicions. I approached a few of the other people who had started to congregate under a bridge and noticed that some were random people I had gone to high school with and the rest were from my old church. Thinking we were the survivors of a horrible accident, I decided it would be okay to look down at my body. Bad choice. I was covered, head to toe, in road rash. It was so real. I had no skin left, my exposed muscle was oozing bloody body fluid and the white of bone strained through at a few places. I wanted to vomit. I literally felt sick.

After realizing the state my body was in, I didn't understand how I could be alive. Why didn't I feel anything? Why isn't anyone reacting to my grotesque appearance? I had to be dead. All I could think about was who would take care of my house, my school stuff, my car. Who would be notified first? Who would take care of my debt? I didn't want to be a burden to anyone. I remember thinking my parents would be angry I died without apologizing to them for our latest disagreement. All of these things were rushing through my mind and then, I saw my brother walk up and join the group. Oh no. Oh no, I don't like this. What in the hell was he doing here?! Was he involved in the accident or was he here to take me to the hospital? I didn't register that he was dead as well until he turned around and I saw the 12 inch piece of shrapnel sticking out of his neck. I think this is when I started crying while I was asleep. Really? Two family members in the same accident? We were driving separately to different destinations and still ended up meeting our end simultaneously? What was my family going to do? My poor parents, my poor little sister. Would we have a joint funeral? Who would be there? It was way too much for me to comprehend.

Eventually, our group of about 15 dead people/ spirits/ whatever made our way over to one of the bathrooms of my old church. As we were walking up the street to the building, I kept hearing someone yelling numbers. "Group 733! Group # 733!" I asked one of the women in the group that I used to go to church with what that meant. She said that each group would be called so we would know where to go next. I remember knowing that it wasn't time to be divinely judged and we weren't on our way to a final destination. We were waiting to receive some sort of order, like the military or something. Still sobbing, eyes focused on my brother, I sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom trying not to think about my road rash and listening for our number to be called.

Freezing forest air combined with my wet face woke me up that morning. I felt weak, like my body had been tense all night and my eyes were puffy from crying for a good amount of time. I don't like these kind of dreams. It was too real and too horrible. Even though it happened last week, I'm still really creeped out by it. I'm hoping I don't have one like it again anytime soon.

Resurrection

I remember the death
of her past filled with hurt,
a soul set on fire
made way for rebirth.
Her eyes bright and kind
despite all they've seen,
soft wrinkles around them
hint to where she's been.

If you could just see it
you could understand,
a feeling impossible to quit
or barely comprehend.

Her smile slightly crooked
beautiful just the same,
wakes up every room
living up to her name.
Her hands feel like paper
folded many times,
a magnificent story
is told through those lines.

If you could just see it
you could understand,
a feeling impossible to quit
or barely comprehend.

Her heart full of joy
from the right kind of wrong,
the lessons she's learned
have made her this strong.
I remember the birth
of her life filled with light,
and to know she is you
makes everything right.

If you could just see it
you could understand,
a feeling impossible to quit
or barely understand.

F U, Penguin

This site is hilarious and sad at the same time. The premise of the blog is to "tell cute animals what's what". Just look at how much he hates lobster-pugs!

Lobsters Never Get It Right


Hey Lobster, what the f*** are you doing in that person's apartment? GET BACK IN THE WATER WHERE YOU BELONG. And stop looking so sad, you f***ing killjoy, this was your one opportunity to be cute and you blew it. It's got to be hard, being one step away from a cockroach, and I see you are trying to make me love you, I do. But it's not working AT ALL, Lobster, so stop acting like a dog and start twinkle-toeing around in that weird lobster way so I can get creeped out because I don't know which way you are going to move. And for God's sake, Lobster, get yourself ironed. You look like a total slob.

And look, he also hates frogs, almost as much as lobster-pugs!

I'm On To You, You Smug Son Of A Bitch


What did you f***ing do? I can't possibly imagine that you could plan something so complex as to be this f***ing proud of yourself, Frog. Animals aren't supposed to be proud of themselves, you are just supposed to hop around, eat some food, and hope a nice lady frog pays attention to you. WHAT HAPPENED TO HUMILITY, FROG? I would be willing to bet whatever you think your scheme is going to accomplish will not work. This is the real world, Frog, the big time. So unless you are in an 80s action movie with a British accent, I need you to hop back into the water and go make some tadpoles and stop acting like you just went through metamorphosis for the first time in history or something.

And here we have an even stronger hate of poultry ...

What Is Even Going On Here?


Here we go. The silky f***ing hen. What is this thing thinking when it goes outside every day? It's like David Bowie meets Tim Burton meets Colonel Sanders. Did you just step out into the light after a night of clubbing? CHICKENS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO COCAINE, SILKY HEN. I'm just going to be honest: I'm terrified of you. I don't know if it's the pom-pom specifically or just that I didn't know it was possible to get whites that white, but something about your look says "I'm coming to steal your dreams." So stay away from me, you dream-stealing poultry devil.

So mean! But I can't stop laughing. I'm totally going to Hell.

The Devil's Dictionary

The Devil's Dictionary is based on newspaper articles written by journalist Ambrose Bierce and published in 1911. Originally entitled, The Cynic's Word Book, this notorious work was addressed to "enlightened souls who prefer dry wines to sweet, sense to sentiment, wit to humour and clean English to slang".

In other words, it was dedicated to me. A clear-headed, satire-loving enforcer of proper spelling and grammar with a disdain for chardonnay.

One of my goals this week is to use each of the following words and definitions at least once in casual conversation so I can feel ridiculously overqualified talking to anyone but myself.

Acquaintance - A person whom we know well enough to borrow from , but not well enough to lend to. A degree of friendship called slight when its object is poor or obscure, and intimate when he is rich or famous.

Admiration - Our polite recognition of another's resemblance to ourselves.

Backbite - To speak of a man as you find him when he can't find you.

Benevolence - Subscribing five dollars towards the relief of one's aged grandfather in the almshouse, and publishing it in the newspaper.

Bore - A person who talks when you wish him to listen.

History - An account mostly false, of events mostly unimportant, which are brought about by rulers mostly knaves, and soldiers mostly fools.

Opportunity - A favourable occasion for grasping a disappointment.

Pessimism - A philosophy forced upon the convictions of the observer by the disheartening prevalence of the optimist with his scarecrow hope and his unsightly smile.

Ponderous - British jokes.

Positive - Mistaken at the top of one's voice.

Zeal - A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced.

Indubitable! Cheers to being better than you idiots!

Some Meaning

It started as a thought
and grew into a wild hope,
transformed into a realized dream
then established as your new reality.

Wednesday

... is Business Time ...

Oh, you don't know what you're doing to me.
I remove my jeans but trip over them cause I still got my shoes on.
But I turn it into a sexy dance.
Next thing you know I'm down to just my socks and you know when I'm down to just my socks what time it is, it's time for business.
It's business time.

Also known as, BOOM BOOM SEXY TIME!


This is like the baked goods version of the come-hither eyebrow raise. But better. Cause there's cake after.

BEST CAKE EVER.