Random Thoughts of a Crazy Lady

Talked to the vet about Jete finally. Because her tumor is caused by vaccines, the vaccine company has agreed to pay for a surgical biopsy to definitely diagnose her. So we're waiting on this oncologist to get in contact so we can schedule the biopsy.

IF, it comes back as sarcoma, which we're thinking it is, we're looking at radiation and removal. There is a chance that the vaccine company will pay for part of the treatment, but the outside figure I'm looking at is $3000. Seriously. $3000. That is an insurmountable amount.

Once the biopsy comes back and we agree on treatment, I'll be putting a donation box on my blog. I know most of you don't have much. But if you can tell your friends, I'd really appreciate it. I know saving one blogger's cat might not seem like much, but it means the world to me.

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Either my pharmacist has a ginormous crush on me or he's just really shy and awkward and remembers everyone's name and stares a lot too. It could happen.

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When I was at the store looking at hair dye (because my color has faded a bit and the blonde it had in it is now poking through), this older dude walks by me. He's the type that was maybe cool in the late seventies or early eighties but hasn't progressed since then and probably doesn't realize it's been 30 years and things have changed a bit since then. Like highwaisted black jeans. And T shirts with the sleeves cut off. Also, unless you're Tom Selleck, I'm thinking you should rethink that 'stache.

Anyway, as he walks by me, he stops, turns around, and tell me that he used to be a hair dresser (really? don't they call themselves stylists now days?) and that with my complexion, I shouldn't darken my hair. I tell him thanks, I'll consider that, and hope he moves on. He does not. He persists. Tells me that I'm so fair and he sees me looking at hair color and I really shouldn't darken it. I should lighten it just a tad and add some streaks so it looks like touches of the sun. (I shit you not)

I once again thank him, tell him I'm just coloring it a similar brown as what I am now and look back at the boxes. Does he give up? Go away? NO! He gives me the same fucking line again. Just a tad lighter. With streaks. I'm afraid he'll actually start touching my hair at this point, so I say firmly that I've done all sorts of color from black to red to blonde and it always looks good and I don't think I need any help, thanks, give him a thin-lipped half smile, and turn back to the hair color.

He gets the hint, but says as he walks backward down the aisle, well, you're good looking anyway, but streaks would be so nice!

Shudder.

Why. Me?

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As I was in line at the same store to purchase my boxes of hair color (so there, creepy dude), I was behind a guy and his 4 year old boy. Little boy must have been hungry because he kept asking for food. Can I have a hot dog? Can I have chicken? Can I have a hot dog? Can I have macaroni and cheese? Can I have a sandwich? Can I have a hot dog? Hot dog was the favorite, clearly. His dad kept saying, I know you're hungry, buddy. We'll eat soon. 

But the kid wouldn't stop. To be honest, it was making me hungry! I was like, um, I'd like a hot dog! A hot dog sounds awesome! I didn't get a hot dog. But now I'm craving one. Stupid kid.

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Confession: If you looked in the bin of the center console of my car, you'd find it full of candy bar wrappers. I have a huge weakness for candy bars. If I'm out and about, as I often am when I'm in my car,  I have to buy candy. I just do. It has to be chocolate, but I'm a bit of a candy bar slut really. Many flavors suit my palate. And anyway, my favorite candy bar is from Europe and hard to find over here and so I nothing will live up to that so I may as well not discriminate.

And hey, there are bigger vices to be had. Candy bars may not be the healthiest choice of my day, but I'm not snorting coke or shooting heroine am I? Nope, I am not.

See? Life is all about perspective. If you just alter your perspective a little, you can justify just about anything.

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I love this song. I like to pretend she's saying "Andrea" instead of "Angela." Mostly because I'd maybe like to be someone who's a danger someone's addicted to. With the exception of the creepy guy at karaoke that time who told my friend that "I'm dangerous," whatever that means, and Tim Sprinkle who was quite possibly addicted to me since he asked me out every single day of the eighth grade, I've never been considered someone dangerous or addictive. I think it might be kind of nice. 

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My mac is a little under the weather. Not badly. She'll be fine. But she needs a few parts replaced so today I take her to be shipped off to wherever macs go to get a little freshened up. A little nip. A little tuck. She'll look just as young as ever. Wait.

I'll be computerless for several days.

Because I'm awesome, I wrote a bunch of posts for the weekend, so please still come visit the blog. But I won't be updating posts on the twitter or Facebook (wish I had an iPhone) so if you want updates, now would be a good time to follow or subscribe to my blog. Or just visit every day. I love your visits. And your comments. Your comments are total awesome sauce.

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Reminder: go to my Etsy shop and buy a cute ring or a pair of barrettes! They're so cuuuuute and you know you want to!