Lisa Gerardy's Blog, page 20

Clash of the Couples — Funny Arguments

Back in the day, when I was 22 and skinny, I decided it would be a great idea to marry a tall, dark, and handsome man I met in college.  Sure, we had broken up a couple of times and had sort of dramatic, violent arguments, but he was cute and funny, and I didn’t feel like dating any more (at 22!).  So, we got married.

We didn’t stay married. A couple of years after we brought our rock star son into the world, we parted ways for good. We had a miserable divorce (are there any fun divorces), and we fought bitterly.  Through the years, I thought that my son was the only good thing to come from my starter marriage.  Until now.

Recently, I came across a call for submissions to a humor anthology.  When I saw that, I realized that I had tons of funny stories about arguments with my ex, most of them having to do with the language/cultural barrier between us.  You see, he is a Cuban American and I am just your standard pasty white girl.  I felt like I lived in an episode of I Love Lucy.

If you want to read more about my first marriage, and the arguments that eventually led to the end of it, you’re in luck.  My story, along with other FUNNY stories, will appear in Clash of the Couples on November 3.  Here is more information about the book:

My starter marriage story is in THIS book!

Coupledom. Fact or fable, Adam and Eve birthed the perpetual relationship drama as seen on TV today. Despite the serpents, this couple HAD IT MADE. Luxury real estate, lush gardens, and privacy out the yin-yang. Life was glorious until the bare-bottomed babe could no longer resist temptation. Despite her better half’s warnings and threats to sleep in a tree, she tasted the forbidden fruit. One bite of that seductive, juicy contraband and the stage was set for eternity— a nibble that has blossomed into an endless supply of tiny tidbits that divide lovers to this day!

Taking a cue from the naked explorers of authentic sin, Clash of the Couples is a new anthology featuring a collection of completely absurd lovers’ squabbles and relationship spats. Think couples fight over kids, sex, and money? Think again! Furniture, the last beer, and where to store the placenta are what genuinely ignite our feuds. And no argument is off limits. This book has it all!

Inside you’ll find a gut-busting compilation of stories such as: “I Can’t Believe You Ate My Sandwich,” “Never Assume Anything,” “Only I Can Talk About Me,” and “You Want Some College Boobs?” from forty-three fearless writers. Prepare to laugh, roll your eyes, and shiver in suspense. While Eve may have had the first bite, we ate the whole tree. And made pies.

Published by Blue Lobster Book Co., Clash of the Couples launches loudly and obnoxiously on November 3, 2014. You’ll hear us coming, but look for it on Amazon, B&N, Apple, and other places where you typically buy books. For instant updates, follow along on Facebook!

The lineup includes:

Andrew S. Delfino of Almost Coherent Parent
Crystal Ponti of MommiFried
Camille DeFer Thompson of Camille DeFer Thompson
Kimberly Morand of Anchor Magazine: Navigating Depression, Bipolar, and Anxiety
Meredith Napolitano of From Meredith to Mommy
Chris Dean of pixie.c.d.
Linda Roy of elleroy was here
Kevin Zelenka of Double Trouble Daddy
Sarah Cottrell of Housewife Plus
R.C. Liley of Going Dad
Mary Widdicks of Outmanned
Marie Bollman of Make Your Own Damn Dinner
Ginny Marie of Lemon Drop Pie
Mike Reynolds of Puzzling Posts
Leigh-Mary Hoffmann of Happily Ever Laughter Blog
Lisa Petty of Lisa R. Petty — That is ME, you guys!!
Lynn Shattuck of The Light Will Find You
Jeff Bogle of Out With The Kids
Stacey Gustafson of Are You Kidding Me?
Angela Godbout of FRaPS
Courtney Conover of The Brown Girl with Long Hair
Jenny Hills of Express Bus Mama
Marcia Kester Doyle of Menopausal Mother
Julia Arnold of Frantic Mama
Jessica Azar of Herd Management
Susan A. Black of I Like That
Dave Lesser of Amateur Idiot Professional Dad
Sarah del Rio of est. 1975
Nicole R. Wildhood of Naught Be All Else
Angela Keck of Writer Mom’s Blog
Alexa Bigwarfe of No Holding Back
Brian Sorrell of Dadding Full Time
Kathryn Leehane of Foxy Wine Pocket
April Grant of 100lb Countdown
Bev Feldman of Linkouture
Jodi Flaherty of The Noise of Boys            
Scott Rigdon of Three Five Zero
Lydia Richmond of Cluttered Genius
Allie Burdick of VITA – Train for Life
Michelle Grewe of Crumpets and Bollocks
Barb Godshalk of Co-Author of Tall Tales and Short Stories from South Jersey
Jonathon Floyd of One Funny Daddy
Amanda Mushro of Questionable Choices in Parenting
Chris Carter of The Mom Cafe

 

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Win a myCharge!

No energy — I wish they made a myCharge for dogs.

Hi Humans, Sophie here. I know I have told you before how Mama is really boring, and how she is always typing on her light square computer — the same one I’m using to talk to you now. I wish she would play outside with me, or even just give me more cookies, but she is always staring at a screen. When she is not staring at this bigger screen, she has a little one she keeps in her pocket. Even when we are outside, she can stop throwing the Frisbee and talk to people. They must be tiny if they fit in there.

Sometimes, Mama says that her light square is “out of juice.” I think that means the battery is dead because that is when Mama makes dinner or lunch, or some other food. I like food, so I’m good with that. Last week, Mama got a myCharge and now her pocket light square stays charged FOREVER. Like, seriously, it never stops working now. She still makes food and stuff, but it takes her longer because she stops and plays with the little computer. I wish they made a myCharge for dogs because I get tired after a full day of guarding the house. If you want a myCharge, you could try to win one. Here is how.

To keep you charged and connected myCharge is giving 3 lucky winners each an iPad mini with a myCharge HUB 6000 portable charger! The amazingly compact Hub 6000 features built-in cables and connectors for smartphones, tablets, e-readers and more. Get up to 27 hours of additional talk time for your devices, as well as integrated, quick-charge wall prongs. The Hub series is commonly known as the “Swiss Army Knife of portable power devices.”

 

Additionally, 40 winners will each receive an Energy Shot compact portable charger for their smartphones that delivers an additional boost when you need it most. They come in a variety of styles and can give you up to 10 hours of talk time! (Please note, smart phone not included in giveaway).

 

Stay out of the red! myCharge is here to keep you charged and connected! For more information on products visit the myCharge website or follow them on Facebook. You can find myCharge products available at retailers such as Target and Kohl’s.

Fill out the entry form below September 15, 2014 – October 15, 2014 for your chance to be one of 40 winners to receive an Energy Shot Charger (10 winners randomly selected each week) and one of 3 grand prize winners randomly selected on October 15, 2014 to receive one iPad Mini with a myCharge HUB 6000 portable charger. Entrants must be at least 18 years of age or older, must live in the United States and have a valid shipping address. See giveaway form for complete list of rules and details.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

This is a sponsored post from myCharge.

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“You should never hit anybody about God.”

“He shouldn’t hit me. You shouldn’t hit me about God, Mamma. You should never hit anybody about God—”

The Conversion of the Jews

Philip Roth

I was in my classroom at Bonita Springs Middle School. I taught drama, or at least I tried to. I was horrible at classroom management.  School started at 9:35, and it was before my first period class. A kid, Tyler, ran in and said, “Miss Petty, I know it’s the JAPS!!” I was so confused. Tyler was a good kid, and I did not suspect drugs.  I thought he was just, you know, acting for me. Then, he turned on the TV in my class, and my jaw dropped. We kept that TV on all day. All I wanted to do was leave and get my son from preschool, but we did not dismiss early. It was the day after my 30th birthday. Suddenly, being 30, wearing a size 8 (which was “fat” for me at the time), and having too many bills for my salary did not matter.

When I could leave for the day, I picked up my son, who was 4 and very much unaware of what had happened.  He wanted to have dinner at McDonald’s.  After all, they had a playground, toys, and fries.  What more do you need in life?  I didn’t take him to McDonald’s.  We drove through, instead.  I was afraid to sit with my son in a public place.  I was afraid that some crazy person would walk in with a bomb, or Anthrax (the poison, not the band), or a gun, or something.  So, we drove through and ate our fries at home, where I felt safe, but still wondered how far I was from a military base, a power plant, or any possible target for terrorism. I still think like this whenever I go to an amusement park.

I did not show my son that I was afraid.  I did not cry. This morning, twelve years later, I finally cried about 9/11.  I was watching the Moment of Silence on the Today Show.  The screen was split, with people in New York on the left and Mr. and Mrs. Obama, Mr. and Mrs. Biden, and a lot of other people in Washington, D.C. on the right. There was a woman in New York, with brown curly hair; maybe you saw her.  She started crying so hard that she had to lean on someone.  I thought, “She probably lost someone that day.  Maybe it was her husband, or a sibling, or a cousin, or a friend.  She lost SOMEONE.” That is when I cried.  That is what it is all about really.  People are getting killed over differences of opinion.  Seriously.  People are real.  They bleed.  They die.  We should not “hit” anyone about God or Politics, or anything else.

Note: This post was originally posted on 9/11/13.

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Is Mother Sick Enough to go to the Vet?

Humans,

I’m a little concerned about Mother. She is usually the one who takes care of us, but she is acting strange. It seems like she might need to get in a carrier and be taken to the vet. Of course, Father would need to do this, as the woman is a bit heavy in the haunches. I don’t believe I could lift her. And heaven forbid if she urinated in the carrier like I have done. What a mess that would be. Perhaps, she can just get better at home. Let me tell you what is going on with her.

First of all, she is not speaking like she normally does. She is making paw gestures to her throat and using fewer vocal noises. She didn’t even hiss or growl at the yippy white dog when she went canine crazy when the boy’s friend came over. Mother just sat there and looked at Father, and he corrected the creature. I’m glad he did because that dog gets on my nerves.

Another odd thing mother did was sleep with me for two hours on Sunday. Normally, the woman does not sleep during the sunlight hours. I don’t know how she avoids naps, but she usually does. Yesterday, she lay down with me on the couch and let me burrow under the covers with her for a long time. I was glad to do it, as I can be very soothing to Mother. Still, it was out of character. I purred until the poor woman went to her twitching phase. She must be chasing birds in her sleep.

I’ve been spending a lot of blanket time with Mother.

She has been swallowing strange brown and white pellets. She winces when she does this, and says she hopes it helps. I doubt it. She also drinks a stinky drink from a really short cup. It makes her make a face like the one I make when I smell another creature’s excrement on the floor. You would think she would just bury that stuff in the litter box instead of drink it.

Mother is blowing fluids from her nose. It’s really gross. She grabs small white squares and makes horrible, monster like noises, while emptying her nose into the square. It’s really quite frightening. I run away from her when she does this.

Mother’s skin feels warmer than usual. I noticed when I was cleaning her arms that they were quite warm. Even though she is warm, the woman shivers under a blanket as though it is winter. I know that if I took her to the vet, the nurse would put that stick in her bottom to find out how warm she is. That is never pleasant. They should just lick the poor woman’s arms.

What do you think, humans? Should I get Father to attempt to put her in a carrier and cart her off to the vet? I have never seen an illness quite like this one. I’ve never seen a cat or dog have anything like this. The boy has had this and he got better. I wonder if mother will be back to normal soon. Please tell me what I should do. Until I know she is better, I will keep watch over her.

Thanks for reading.

Picabo

 

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Snarky Facebook Friend Island

Last month, Huffington Post published my 10 Tiresome Facebook Friends blog and it ended up being really popular. I was stunned and thrilled all at once. There were 135,000 likes, and 22,300 shares, along with 729 comments.  Before I read any of the comments, I braced myself because I had heard how harsh HuffPo commenters could be from other bloggers. I’m pleased to say on this particular piece MOST comments were awesome. The MAJORITY of people got that I am a HUMOR blogger and not a CNN reporter. They knew that my piece was all in fun and they even played along with me by adding their own Facebook Friend clichés.

Then, there were those people who did not get me at all. They thought I was being serious. For real. Some readers, like six of them or something, thought that I had not figured out how to remove annoying people from my Facebook feed and I was just writing to complain about my horrible friends. One lady (I use that word instead of humorless bitch) told me I was a “bully” and I would regret this when I “came face to face with god.” My eyes nearly rolled right out of my head.

I don’t remember all of the other critical comments, but they mostly just told me to unfriend these people or remove them from my news feed etc. Thanks for the tech support guys! The most memorable negative comment was from this poor woman who lives in a town where Applebee’s is a five star dining experience and Walmart is the mall. No wonder she is angry! She said, and I quote:

“Please don’t take this the wrong way ( well , I really don’t care how u take it , u did open the door) In my opinion , u really don’t need to be on a social network . I mean if these friends of yours bother you so much ( u know the ones YOU friended in the first place) why not ..wait for it … UNFRIEND THEM .. they are not your friends in the first place or you would not be running them down. Right ?? You should be on a desert island ..yep thats right ..that way no one can insult that marvelous opinion you have of your own wonderful self and you can talk to the only intelligent person you know …you ! Ok ..got that off my chest .. you have a nice night now ..ya hear…from ” glad I’m not your friend’”

Yes, that is a direct copy and paste from her little comment box. She was probably super pissed about the “Speak and Spell” friend on my list. Obviously.  For that I owe her an apology, maybe, or not. Actually, I owe her a big thank you because, you know, she is right. I DO need my own island, and not because I hate everyone, but because I am a hermit. So, I started thinking, if I could have my own island, what would it be like.

Well, it would have a lot of cats and kittens, and they would all live inside. So, there would need to be cat houses surrounding my big purple mansion. I don’t mean THOSE kind of cat houses. ; ) Seriously, I hate when people let cats roam outside, so I am damn sure not going to do it. The cats would have air conditioning, plenty of fishy food, and a ton of catnip. I mean, why wouldn’t they? It’s an island.

My island would also need a Super Target. I could get anything I needed there: groceries, clothes, electronics, books, etc.   Since I would be alone on the island, everything would be free. How awesome would that be?

I would need a roof over my island to keep me dry when I’m outside. I hate rain, and islands tend to get a lot of it. I wouldn’t want a dome because Stephen King has given me nightmares, but I would need something like a big, island-sized awning. They probably sell one on Amazon.

I would need a dock and a ferry. I would want people to visit me, even if they were Baconators or Monsanto Warriors. So, they would need a way to get to my island. Once in a while, I may want to visit the mainland, too, you know, if I needed to go to the Apple store or something. It’s not like I would use a PC on the island. A boat of some sort would be a necessity.

I guess there would need to be a power plant or a ton of solar panels. I would need electricity to run the air conditioning and charge my Macbook, iPad, and iPhone.   I would probably want to have a microwave and stove, oh and a refrigerator. Just because I’m living on an island does not mean I want to give up my first world comforts. As my husband tells everyone, my idea of roughing it is staying in a hotel with only basic cable and no room service. It’s true.

Assuming my purple mansion is fully furnished, I can’t really think of anything else I would need on my island. I feel like I’m missing something, but that is probably because I have not had enough coffee today. What about you? Would you want your own island? If so, what would you absolutely need on it? Let me hear from you in the comment section.

You can tell I’m a snob just by looking at my resting bitch face. I’d need a bigger island than that one.

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No Labor Day for Dog Guards

No holiday sweater needed for Labor Day.

I noticed something odd today. Mother, father, and the boy slept until after the sun was bright. I found this unusual because this is the third day in a row that this has happened, and the decorated tree is not in the living room. By my toe calculations, the family gets up before the sun and is in a hurry to leave the house without me and the other furry creatures for five days. Then, there are two days where there is a lot of noise in the yard and the humans nap on couches while humans chase balls around on the large light square.

I happened to hear Mother tell the boy that it was “Labor Day,” which meant he didn’t have to go to school and they didn’t have to go to work. From the sounds of it, humans get a day off on Labor Day unless they do any work involving food because Mother talked about getting some Chinese food. So, they must be working at the Chinese restaurant. Chinese food frightens me because of something I read on Facebook. I won’t go into details here.

I don’t cook food, but I also can’t take the day off since I must protect the family. If you have read my blog you know that I am a canine secret agent. So, I must continue my duties, as the family will no doubt do more foolish things since they will have their guard down. Father has even been known to set fire to a metal square outside and place perfectly good meat on it. This is highly dangerous and I bark at him when he does it. The man could burn his paws off.

Since Sophie is outside with Father a lot, and since she has been given the gift of size to make up for her lack of intelligence, I will continue to train her as my backup guard. I’ve been working with her since she was a puppy. Here is a training film from one of our first sessions.

As you can see, my work will never end. Thanks to Mother for narrating the film for me. She got my thoughts exactly correct. You will all be happy to know that Sophie does at least use the restroom in the correct place now.   She is still far from being a proper dog. Where did they find her?

Well, I’m off to lick the kitchen floor in hopes of finding a morsel of dropped potato salad, or maybe even a forgotten chunk of hot dog. As usual, I have received nothing but my standard issue dog food.   Some holiday!

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Killer Asbestos

Heather Von St. James, Survivor

When most people hear the word asbestos, they think of lead paint, yellow Formica counter tops, Happy Days lunch boxes, and children riding bikes without helmets. Asbestos is thought to be a thing that died years ago. Most folks live their lives without ever worrying about asbestos exposure and the horrible disease associated with it, Mesothelioma. Those people would be shocked to learn that asbestos is still around and still a threat.

Back in the day, asbestos was used in A LOT of things. Your average person came into contact with it as building insulation. It was used in homes and businesses everywhere, and it was especially helpful for insulating skyscrapers. At one time, asbestos was even used in clothes. Like a lot of products, it was thought to be helpful and safe for years, hundreds of years. That all changed when the link between asbestos and cancer like Mesothelioma was discovered. Asbestos use declined sharply after the late 70’s, though it is still legal to have it in some products in small amounts.

Recently, I was reading the Huffington Post and I saw an article about asbestos being found in a dorm. You should definitely read the article, but just in case you are super busy, here is the Cliff Note’s version. OVER 3,000 students have been sleeping in rooms with asbestos at three universities in Wales. That means OVER 3,000 people may have complications later in life. Unfortunately, you can be fine after asbestos exposure and then show symptoms of Mesothelioma DECADES after exposure. That is going to keep me awake tonight.

Asbestos is not just in the UK. It’s still right here in the US. Last month, researchers found a large amount of microscopic, NATURALLY occurring asbestos in Nevada. They found this when the state was building a highway through the area. Asbestos is so deadly that they are rerouting the highway to avoid the area. So, it’s not even safe to drive your car near asbestos and college students were LIVING with it. How does this still happen? Is it not 2014?

All cancer sucks. If you have read this piece, you know that breast cancer skips merrily through my family. Mesothelioma is a super wicked cancer because it hits your lungs and abdomen, which of course makes breathing difficult. Breathing is kind of the most necessary thing living things do. You can’t eat, drink, or do anything else if you can’t breathe.

I just recently became aware of Mesothelioma because a friend I met online has it. Things like this always become more real when you know a real person who battles the disease. I decided that I wanted to help raise awareness about the disease, and the dangers of asbestos. I’m not going to pour ice water on my head, or make any sort of silly video. I am going to donate to Mesothelioma research, and I’m going to spread the word as much as possible. It would help if you did the same. Here is the link to Heather’s fundraising page.  She will also be participating in “Miles for Meso.”  Click here for more information on that.

Please feel free to share this blog everywhere.  I had never heard about mesothelioma until last week.  I’m sure I’m not the only one.  Let’s get the word out and end this disease.

Heather and her family

 

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Feline Frustrations

I’ve been forced to snuggle with my homicidal brother.

Humans,

There’s no nice way to say this, but I fear that Mother no longer loves me. She’s been kicking me out of her den at night so that she “can actually sleep.” I’m not sure what she means by that because I don’t wake her. I simply knead her belly gently, to insure good digestion as she rests. I also place my face close to her ears and purr so she has background noise to block out father’s snoring. I also curl up next to her lower back to provide a heating pad of sorts for all her aches and pains. Mother is about 200 in cat years. I also gently clean her arms as she sleeps. The woman subjects herself to water torture daily, as you humans tend to do, but her arms never cease to need an extra cleaning.

As helpful as I am, she insists on escorting me out of her chambers at night like a common hoodlum. And human friends, this is not the only evidence I have of mother’s indifference towards me. I have seen her being kind and loving to other animals that do not even live in our house. I’m not proud of this, but I looked through the woman’s small light square, where she has pictures and messages.   Some of the pictures make me sad. Mother is clearly cheating on all of her fur babies. Here are some examples:

Mother feeds other animals.

Mother is holding some sort of foreign creature here.

Mother does not need another cat.

I do hope Mother is not thinking of bringing me back to jail, meaning the shelter. I have had a few homes before this one, and I would just like to stay here. I’m not sure what to do about this situation. I enjoy my home when the dogs aren’t barking, and I really have nowhere else to go. I suppose I will keep to the guest room at night, in order to keep away from the little yippy white dog that thinks she is some kind of police officer and the large black clumsy dog. I will snuggle up to a pillow in mother’s absence, but I’m not happy about this. I may need to soil the floor, or perhaps in a shoe, to announce my displeasure.

Thank you for reading, humans.

Purrs and Arm Licks,

Picaboo (Not Boo Boo)

Not THIS Time, Breast Cancer

I have been having mammograms since I was 30, and I am just a LITTLE BIT older than that now. OK, I will be 43 in two weeks. My mom had breast cancer in her 40’s, and a cousin on my mom’s side had it in her 30’s. So, it’s kind of scary and my doctor likes to stay on top of things.

I had my regular annual mammogram last week, and I was waiting for the all-clear email that I usually get, when instead the phone rang. I hate the phone all the time, but especially when it is the mammogram place calling the day after my test. That is never good.

When I got the call back for an additional mammogram and sonogram, the receptionist informed me that the radiologist saw a “mass.”   My stomach immediately cramped.

NOTE TO MEDICAL PROFESSIONALS: Do not use the word MASS when calling about a mammogram unless you are sure that it is something to worry about. Say, “the picture was not clear” or something like that. Mass is a scary word to someone who just had a test to detect CANCER.

Even with the use of the word mass, I was able to calm myself down. I wasn’t REALLY worried until my PRIMARY care doctor’s office called to be sure I was going back. This is not even the doctor who ordered the test. Plus, this doctor is usually very mellow about everything. When I was freaked out about having a DVT and being on blood thinners, this doctor told me to go ahead and shave my legs with a real blade because I wasn’t going to bleed out from nicking myself. (Note: The same cousin who had breast cancer ended up passing away from bleeding internally while on blood thinners.) So, if my super mellow doctor was concerned about me going back for round two of boob torture, I sure as #$# # was worried. I grabbed the first open appointment they had, which was FIVE days away.

That following Monday, as luck would have it, The Huffington Post emailed me to see if I would be available to chime in on annoying social media friends on Huffington Post Live at 2:35 pm ET, or RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF MY MAMMOGRAM APPOINTMENT. Yes, I understand that the children in Iraq are just weeping for my little scheduling problem. “Poor American lady can’t do TV because she is having a modern medical test in a building with a roof.”

Well, since I had already worried about breast cancer all weekend, and since my husband cancelled a business trip to go with me to that appointment, and since I was probably too stressed to be funny, and since I would oh say be topless at that exact time, I said no to the Huffington Post.

For five days, between the call and my appointment, I prepared for the worst.

I envisioned arguing with the surgeon on why I needed to have both breasts removed, as my mother had done when she was diagnosed.

I planned on  finding a new surgeon after imaginary first surgeon said no because he was an ass.

I pictured arguing with my insurance company who would refuse to pay for my double mastectomy and insist I only needed the cancerous one removed, which would make me the uniboober.

I imagined chemo, and vomiting, and laying on the couch while watching an endless stream of Lifetime movies with a cat or three lying on me.

I thought about having to cancel my next hair appointment because I would not have hair. I love my hair appointments.

I thought about vomiting. Again.

I wondered where the damn ice bucket challenges were for this. Maybe I would do a barf bucket challenge. I wondered if that would go viral and finally get me on the Today Show.

I posted about it on Facebook, even though I said I wouldn’t.

I blamed myself. I don’t eat that well. I don’t exercise enough. I drink more than I should sometimes, meaning wine not water. It’s good to drink more water than you should, as long as it’s not TOO MUCH water.

I once again wished that my parents had never mated. Seriously! We have every damn disease there is in this family. Heart disease and diabetes run through my father’s side of the family, along with a touch of anxiety. On my mom’s side, we have colon cancer, breast cancer, Crohn’s disease, and more anxiety. No wonder I’m a nut case!

The day FINALLY arrived. My husband drove me to the mammogram place. The chamomile tea I drank that morning did not keep me from feeling like I was facing death. I changed out of my shirt with sweaty armpits, because you can’t wear deodorant when you have a mammogram and because I had the nervous pit sweats. Deodorant messes up the images somehow. Look it up. I’m not a doctor.

I’m not sure if I pissed someone off at the mammogram place, or if it is just standard procedure to clamp the mammogram machine on someone’s boob like you are trying to kill a spider with it when they have to come back for a second test. For the love of bruised titties that hurt SO MUCH worse the second time. And I still had to have a sonogram after that. Even with that FLAT view, they couldn’t tell what my ”mass” was.

FINALLY, after the sonogram, I was told I had a “cluster of cysts like a bunch of grapes.” My first thought was “Cluster of Cysts” would make a great name for a punk band. My second thought was, “WHY didn’t I postpone the appointment and do the damn Huffington Post Live Show?”

Huffington Post Live, email me!! I’m cancer free and available now.

That’s my nervous smile.

 

Killer Cat My Behind

Humans,

I just discovered that the large stupid dog has been sullying my good name again. Last week, she wrote this crappy blog accusing me of attempting to kill her. Everyone should know that this is simply not the truth.

First of all, I have never actually really tried to kill the dog. Sure, I have made my weak attempts, but they have not been remotely successful. My lack of thumbs and my small size prevent me from truly taking a life. Plus, the dog does a good job of trying to kill herself all of the time. Since she has lived with us, and turned my days into living nightmares, big stupid Sophie has done a number of asinine things to cause harm to herself.

The creature keeps a paranoid watch over me.

She has eaten portions of the wall. Mother really hissed at her for that. Well, she didn’t hiss. She made her human hissing and growling noises. I rather enjoyed watching this browbeating. I do love it when the dog gets in trouble.

Since the wall was off limits, the beast tried to eat a Christmas ornament. Mother was able to pull it from the back of her mouth. Why the woman simply didn’t let the dog choke, I haven’t a clue.

I sit on the tall chairs to see eye-to-eye with the beast.

The real humdinger was when Big and Stupid ate a poisonous tree. YES! A tree. Well, not the entire tree, but she took some chunks out of the bark. This dog loves to eat wood. See! She is crazy! What sane individual eats wood, especially when it has red berries on it. Anyone who has been forced to watch Disney drivel knows that bright red fruits are poisoned by the evil queen or something. I mean EVERYONE knows this!

Washington Hawthorn trees are toxic. Ask Sophie.

When she came in from chewing on the tree, the creature foamed at the mouth and made a dastardly mess all over my living room. It was disgusting and huge since the thing is the size of a farm animal. Poor mother nearly vomited cleaning up the disaster. She had to be in the hospital for a week — the dog, not mother. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if mother needed a week in a mental hospital after dealing with that. Then, when mother and father brought her home again (WHY didn’t they just LEAVE her there?), they had to have smelly, loud men cut down that tree. They arrived before the sun was even fully up, and they had loud tools straight out of a horror movie. It was scary.

So, dear humans on the other side of the light square, I did not attempt to kill the dog. Of course I want her dead, but I have no need to sully my own white paws. The creature will do herself in with her stupidity. I will wait.

Andre