You Damn Kids And Your Sickening Posts......

There is something so sickening and wrong being posted on Facebook and I am tired of holding my tongue and scrolling quickly by. Over the past week I’ve seen at LEAST 4 different horrific pictures of dogs being tortured in one way or another. I’ve wanted so badly to comment “Really?” or “C,MON” or even “Is this really necessary??”, but I haven’t. I didn’t want to draw more attention to these disgusting pictures. I didn’t want to give the posters the satisfaction of knowing these pictures had affected me in any way. These pictures are erroneous, perverted and intended only to shock and appall.

 

Before you say, “Well? It’s the truth…these things are happening and people have to be aware of it….” let me make some suggestions on how you can help poor, defenseless animals WITHOUT unnecessarily exploiting their pain and anguish:

 

• Post a link to a website that responsibly informs people about the abuse of animals and, more importantly, tells us how we can help.
• Start a website (or blog) about cruelty to animals YOURSELF....I mean, it means so much to you that you post disgusting pictures on Facebook, so why not put your time and money where your mouth is and DO something about it.
• Do some research about when and where these things are happening and call the police.
• Get a bunch of people together and protest a pit bull ring or puppy mill.
• Donate food, blankets, detergent, litter, toys, or money to your local shelter.  At least you can contribute to the humane treatment of animals in that secure environment.
• Speak up if and when you see an animal being mistreated.
• Help look for a lost dog in your neighborhood.

These are just a few things you can do to help fight the terrible treatment of animals.  You don't need to post pictures of mangled dog faces and "rape belts" or whatever they're called.  If you were such a dog lover, those pictures would infuriate you and your response would not be re-post, but to gasp and click "x".

Bottom line:  If you post those pictures, you are a jerk and you know it.

XOXOXO

 

 

 

Lazy man's blog.....

It's not so much a "blog" as it is a really cool quote I found today......

 



 

“I have come to the frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the weather. I possess tremendous power

to make life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration;

I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides.…..”

 

 - Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

XOXOX

NO Christmas tree, NO Christmas tree.....

Seeing all of the Christmas trees on top of cars, posted on Facebook and on TV really has got me in a mood.  Christmas trees are my most favorite thing of all.  The twinkling lights, the family ornaments, the smell of pine, the garland shimmering off the white lights, the glow in the living room when you turn off the lamps.....I could go on and on...... 

I have been wandering from place to place, with roommate after roommate, for the past few years.  None of which did I feel comfortable putting up my Christmas decorations in or with.  Not that my apartments were too small or my roommates were assholes or anything.  It just didn't feel right putting up a tree with my family's decorations on it in a place that didn't feel like home.  Well, now I have what I feel is a true home, with the most wonderful man that ever lived and a cat that I love so much, but loves being naughty more than me or said wonderful man.  Which brings me to my problem....that f-ing cat.....

I love the cat and everything, but he is a little pistol and gets into everything.  The garbage, my underwear drawer, under the sink, under the bed, under my FEET and everything else he can either leap or scrapple up (scrapple is a term we made up that describes when a cat uses their claws to scratch up any surface in order to get where they need to go, JSYK).  That being said, a Christmas tree is out of the question.  We tried to put one up last year and, within an hour, Hammy had taken all of the garland off and was eating like 6 candy canes at once.  Not that I blame him.  The tree was just too much for him.  All the glitter, lights and general wonderment made it impossible to leave alone.  So...no tree.

 

I have been forced to be creative this Holiday season by staple-gunning garland to my ceiling and hanging ornaments from it.  While it certainly isn't a tree, it's still pretty cool looking.  Now, if I play play the Christmas station, spray my Glade Winter Pine bathroom spray and squint my eyes really good, I might just be able to get through a tree-less Christmas.  Stupid, handsome, cuddly, naughty cat.....

 

XOXOXO

I'm a mean girl, and that's not fetch......

One thing that annoys me is gossiping and talking behind each other’s backs at work.  Especially where I work, most of our efforts should be focused on our patients and tasks at hand, not who’s on a personal call or wearing the wrong kind of shoes.  It has always irked me to hear whispering, crouched and mushed into a cubicle where all you can here are the gossipers “sh’s”.  Like, “SHE blah blah blah blah SHE blah blah SHE blah blah blah SHE.”  Believe me; you know what I’m talking about if you work in a quiet office with a bunch of women. 

 

The reason I’m bringing this up is that I, believe it or not (ha ha), was the gossiper yesterday at work.  I was having a really rough day and I received an email that rubbed me the wrong way for no reason at all.  It was someone asking me a question about something she didn’t know and I took it to somehow be degrading to me.  I still have no idea why it bothered me so much, but I did what all other dumb chicks do when a co-worker bothers them…..talk shit to another co-worker.  I felt bad instantly and knew I had become the very thing I hated so much.  I wanted so bad to suck back in the words for two reasons, 1. I didn’t even really mean any of the things I had said and 2. I didn’t want to be known as the asshole that everyone steers clear of like I do to some people I work with.  So, I talked shit yesterday, and today, the person I talked shit to told the person I was talking shit about.  Follow that?  (If you’re a girl, you did.  If you’re a boy, you might as well stop reading right now and go play Xbox or something.)  OK, so, my co-worker told my other co-worker that I talked shit and that she shouldn’t trust me.  How do I know she told the person?  Read on, my friend…..

This morning I was summoned by the very gal I was a mean girl to.  She asked if we could talk privately and I knew right away what it was about.  My heart sank.  She had always been so sweet to me and now she thinks I’m a total dick.  Which I was.  We went to an empty area and she gave me the best speech I had ever heard.  It went something like this:

“Robyn.  I know that you said some things about me yesterday and I’m not quite sure where it was coming from, but I know that’s not you.  You have a good heart and I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt.  I didn’t want to talk badly about you behind your back and perpetuate the negativity on our team, so I thought I’d come to you and let you know that people here think you’re awesome and I don’t want you to sink to other people’s level.”

I couldn’t believe it.  She was saying all the exact right things.  I felt so bad, but good at the same time?  She is an amazing woman and handled this with such grace.  I felt like a real turd.  Like when you were little and your Dad says “I’m disappointed” instead of yelling at you.   I apologized and let her know that I didn’t really mean the things I said and that I instantly felt bad when I said them.  All was well and we went back to work.

The moral of the story is this, don’t talk shit about a co-worker unless you’re 100% sure they won't ever know.  Just kidding.  The real moral is don't be a jerk and talk smack behind any one's back (at least at work) because you'll be an even bigger jerk than the jerk you're talking about.


XOXOXOXO

Confessions of a jerk-face.......

I am a procrastinator.  I am sometimes very lazy and would rather be home, relaxing with my boyfriend then really anything else.  I am unapologetically selfish and I think everyone should be.  I think the word "selfish" shouldn't  always have negative conotations, by the way.  I believe everyone has one life and they should live it how they like, as long as they let me do the same.  I am bothered by a lot and take action very little.  I help when I can and I don’t when I don’t feel like it, unless it’s a matter of life or death, which it rarely is.  I say I’m going to do things and sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.  I don’t see the big deal in doing things that feel and seem good at the time.  I used to care a lot about everyone and every little thing, but I don’t as much anymore.  I’m not sure if it’s my age or my experiences, but I am realizing more and more that people are mostly jerks and, given the chance, most people will do things that will benefit themselves before others.  And it’s OK.  It’s human nature.

Having said all that, it was brought to my attention yesterday that there were some people who really liked my blog and were inspired by it.  Everything’s awesome in the beginning.  I had big ideas of writing about losing weight and having pounds magically melt off my body just by watching the “how many times your blog has been viewed” ticker go up.  That will not happen, I’m fully aware, but it felt like it might.  It really did.  The truth is that I felt the pressure to blog every day about losing weight, even though I’m the one that had the idea.  I just thought it would get annoying to readers eventually…like how many blogs can you read that start with, “I’m fat and I’m tired of it” or “I went to the gym today..”  I wouldn’t want to read that.  You wouldn’t either.  I set myself up for failure and I’m pretty sure I knew it from the beginning.

I haven't been to the gym in over 2 weeks and I hate it with a passion when I'm there.  I've eaten so many desserts and fattening foods over the past week, I've stopped trying to keep track altogether.  My job is becoming stressful and I find myself coming home, putting on my pajama pants and playing Bingo online for most of the night.  That is the truth. 

ANYways, here I am, starting over.  Again.  Blogging feels good, so I'm going to continue to write.  Maybe it won't be ALL about weight loss, but it will definitely be about something real.  Real to me, anyways. 

Thanks for reading.

XOXOXO

Halloween Candy: What a JERK....

Halloween Candy:  Hey there!

Me: Oh!  Shit.  I didn’t see you there.

Halloween Candy:  Oh yes.  It’s that time of year again, Robyn!  You can eat as much as you want of me!!  I’m so small and unassuming.  There’s no WAY I have as much calories or sugar as you think!  How can I?  I’m so SMALL……

Me: NO!  No way.  I’m sorry, Halloween Candy.  I just can’t this year.

HC: What do you mean?  We’re best friends, you and me.  Remember Trick or Treating when you were little?  You and your sister used PILLOW cases, you loved me so much.  You’d lay me out on the living room floor and trade the things you didn’t like, remember?  Then when you were a young adult, you’d buy me for the trick or treaters, but no one ever came by so you ate all of me before the 2^nd week of November!  Now that you’re an adult, I’m in your office!  Every woman named Barb, Nancy or Kathy has an orange pumpkin bucket filled with delicious treats!  You can’t get away from me…..

Me:  I know.

HC: That’s right…….just take one……then another…and another…….and another…..no one’s watching…..

Me: OK.  But, just the Tootsie Rolls, I heard they are fat free, which means good for you, right?  Then I’ll just have ONE fun size Snickers.  No biggie.  Oh!  And one of those peanut butter chocolate balls with the foil wrap that looks like an eyeball.  Score.  OK, ONE tiny bag of Skittles.  ONE two pack of Starburst.  OK.  Now, that’s it.  That’s really it.

HC:  NO WAY!  You can have more!  The pieces are so teeny tiny!  It’s not like eating a WHOLE candy bar.  You deserve this little treat anyways, Robyn.  You’ve been working so hard.  Please.  Enjoy…..

Me: Shut up, just shut up, just.  Shut.  Up.  (Garth from Wayne’s World style).  You’re a JERK!  You were never my friend.  You trickster!  You chocolate devil!  You false sized little minx!  I had my Tootsie Roll, baby Snickers, eyeball, Skittles and two Starburst.  They were delicious!  But, that's it.  They were TREATS.  That means a special indulgence not to be had too often because it will lose the very definition of treat!  Be gone with ye!

**POOF!**

Happy Halloween!!

XOXOXO    

Cat Tick Fever.....

I once had a cat named Mia.  She was white with black spots and she was not very nice.  She would scratch and bite me when I walked by, but I loved her.  She was my constant companion throughout my twenties and think about her often.  Like this story, for example:

I had just gotten Mia a few months prior and was not quite sure what to do with a cat.  I had dogs my entire life and I always thought of myself as a cat hater.  But, she was cute and nice to have around the house, even if she tore through my sweaters and sliced my skin wide open with her raptor claws.  She rarely let me pet her, but when she did, she really liked it.  One day, she was letting me pet her and rolled over on her back so I could pet her belly.  I happily obliged when my hand ran over a little bump.  What the hell?  That did not feel normal.  I had read that outside cats sometimes get ticks and Mia was from a greenhouse.  She had spent most of her baby kitty weeks outside!  Could it be that she has had a tick living under her skin this entire time??  I panicked.  I felt the spot again and, sure enough, the bump was no mirage.  It was there and it was hard.  I quickly ran to my bathroom and grabbed a pair of tweezers then grabbed a box of matches.  I saw this on TV once; you burn the head of the tick off and pluck it out.  OK.  I can do this.  The burning was out of the question, upon further inspection.  She had WAY too much white, fluffy hair.  OK.  I’ll just pluck it out, right?  I grabbed her, she hissed and flailed around.  I finally got her pinned between my knees and I started looking for the culprit.  She was hissing and growling and not very happy.  Doesn’t she know I’m saving her life??  I finally find the tiny hard bump and begin to wildly pluck at it as Mia is flailing and not making this very easy.  I grabbed it and pulled and nothing happened.  I tried at least 10 more times and nothing came out.  Not even the head of the little bugger.  I let her go and called the vet.  I didn’t know what else to do!  When the nurse picked up, I told her what was going on.  Sensing the panic in my voice, she promptly got the veterinarian on the phone.   He asked me what the tick looked like.  I told him I couldn’t see it because of all the fur, but I could feel the bump.  He asked me if I felt any other bumps.  I grabbed the cat and began to feel.  No.  Just the one.  WAIT!  There’s another one!  Oh my GOD, there’s another one.  OH SHIT!  There’s THREE!  He told me to calm down and pull Mia’s hair out of the way to really get a good look at the bumps.  I pinned her down, pulled her hair WAY back from the tick bump and took a good look.  The bump was pink.  I told the vet that the ticks were so deep in her that her skin grew back on top of the tick.  He asked me then to really give her a once over and count the bumps.  I did.  Holy SHIT.  There were EIGHT!!!  EIGHT!  He said….. “Robyn?  Those are her nipples.”

Oh.  Thank you for your time, Doctor.  CLICK.

XOXOXOXO