Laaaaaaaaddie...Come home...

So another MFF come and gone. And, just, wow. It was an experience. hypersnazz came out to spend the weekend with me for it, making it extra super happy funtime awesome. The need for me was there from the first night, which was both scary and worrisome. I won't do details, but I will leave it at 2 calls, 1 ambulance before I turned in my radio on Saturday afternoon amidst allegations of gross negligence by the hotel staff of boozing it up and having the cup with me when I responded to my Friday call. That plus a myriad of other things put the last straw on the camel's back and I turned in the badge. I guess it's for the best that the meltdown came with the advent of the state finally becoming aware of me and issuing me liscensure. Though after the holocaust things got exponentially better thanks to my sweet cactus lovin' boyfriend. So I finally got to see what it was like to be one of the asshats. Met peeps I was meaning to meet forever, got introduced around and got to smirk smugly and nod when people were asking if I was hitting Halfcab. So, all in all, it was totally made of win. And now back to the grind. Blargh. FC is only a couple months away at least.

If not, I hear roho's butt is sending off targeting waves. Happy birthday to the  softest, silkiest ears in town! Here's hoping it's a damn fine one for a damn fine guy!

Here's a couple quick pics taken with my phone of the little bugger while he was lording over all of my pillows on the bed.

So. Long and slightly tragic story short, I have a new puppy. I never was a big fan of labs of any color, but this little turd has gone and smitten me. It's always so calming to look into a pair of big, shimmery brown vacuous, vacant eyes while they watch you happily. Kinda tells you that it ain't as bad as you think it is. So, I get to be a dad again. This poor little turd doesn't stand a chance. He's gonna be so screwed up in his fuzzy little head.

So during this retarded corporate-centric training, I did come away with something interesting in one of the group hug exercises.

Pick one song that best sums up your life views, experiences and personality and share the stanza that stands out the most.

Papa Roach - Scars
I tear myself open, I sew myself shut.
My weakness is that I care too much.
And the scars remind me, the past is real.
I tear myself open, just to feel.

Yeah, kichy I know. But that's the story of my life sadly. The times I feel best about myself are when I'm trying to help other people. So much so I end up picking up more than my fair share of lost causes that end up biting me in the ass later, but meh. Just the kinda guy I am. I'm a collie for a reason it seems. There's just too many people down wells these days.

The only catch is that you can't ask the person who posted it anything about it!
Just read the "offense" and if you've done it, you owe that fine.
Keep going until you've read each "offense" and added up your total fine.
Title your response "My Bar Tab is$........"
You don't have to confess your answers, just the amount of your fine.

( Pony up! )

...Wow. Just, wow. I'm a sick puppy...

Love is puppydogs, and roses on the bed with your lover, and champagne brunches, and long walks on the beach at sunset, and hot pasionate sex on the unbalanced washing machine set to continuous spin cycle. Now, let me share with you what love is not. Bacon and chocolate as a single, horridly sacreligious sentient entity. Now if you excuse me, I need to go rinse the applewood out of my siuses as I threw up a little in my mouth. Again...

If not, go grab hypersnazz. It's his birthday so he needs 'em. Happy birthday love!

Highs in the low to mid 80s with a 30% chance of rain. Huzzah!

Why didn't I pay closer attention...I went to work like every other day. And I have to drive through a quasi-ghetto so I'm used to people wandering through the streets with those vacant stares. I just thought they were more crack whores. And work. Work didn't give me clues. The patients at most outpatient pharmacies shuffle around like the living dead and reek to high heaven as it is. I just thought there was a new nursing home in town. It didn't dawn on me till the old guy walked up without a lower jaw. Then it all made sense. The pharmacist lost it when he saw that. He was over the counter so fast, I swear I never saw an Indian guy move that fast sine the last time 7-11 and Dunkin' Donuts opened up right next to each other and put out hiring signs. I knew I wasn't going to get out over the counter. I retreated. I made sure to grab as many bottles and bags as I could on the way. Painkillers, check. Antibiotics, check. Stimulants, check. And lots of Viagra for when we finally beat them. If we beat them....
I managed to sneak out the back with a fire extinguisher. The meaty thud of steel on skull still haunts my ears. They were everywhere. As the night stretched out it's onyx fingers it seemed to draw them out of hiding. I got to my car and gunned it. The traffic was light. Thank god for small miracles and a zombie's lack of ability with a stick shift. Procrastination has it's upsides. My beaten up old utility katana was still in the backseat, sharp and nicked and scored and ready to be put to use. I made a break for the border, I knew how to deal with Indiana zombies from my training at Wolf Park. I didn't make it anywhere near that far though. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have swirved to deliberately mow over every fettid corpse I saw, because then I wouldn't have slammed into that telephone pole. And the mexican in my blood is useless since I tried without success to hotwire three cars. I do have some nasty electrical burns though.
Thank god I started going back to the gym and the treadmills again. I would never have made the run without that. It's dark now and I found refuge in one of the numerous thick forest preserves that encompass my area. I can barely get a signal on my Sidekick, but I have one. It's going to be the only link to whatever world is left out there from here on out. So now I wait. With my phone, my Zune, my sword and my shopping bag of drugs. I don't plan on going quietly into that dark, dark night...

I am out and about and posting from my Sidekick for the first time, so if this works, I think I'll have more to say. But, for now, not really. I just got Linkin Park's new LP. It's a huge turn from their usual sound, but I really like it. It isn't all dark emokid fare anymore and has a good rhythm. Collies everywhere approve.

So my love of cicadas has decreased marginally. I was driving down the street and as many know, I am in the middle of the forest preserve district. So the sounds of rampant cicada sex is all around and thus millions of cicadas incest the foliage. So anyways, I was driving along listening to music and drinking my Jamba juice when all of a sudden something comes streaking through my window and slams into my face. Juice goes out the window with the flailing and the screaming and the car nearly runs off the road. Now this wasn't flitting around in front of my face. This is the substantial, meaty smack of a hefty bug's exoskeleton against my nose. When I finally get the car under control again I look around frantically and find a pair of red eyes and brown wings in my lap staring up at me quizzically. So I calmly pull over, open the door, shoo him out onto the pavement and proceed to stomp him into a fine, gooey mash. Little shit ruined a perfectly good Jamba juice. He needed to pay...

They have arrived in full force and I'm loving it. There is just something about this sound all through the day and night that just screams summer to me. I sat out on the deck last night with a matcha smoothie and listened to the ugly little buggers have rampant, copious amounts of little cicada sexxorz. And again this morning. There's something soothing to this noise I think. Until they drop outta the trees onto the table and look at you with those weird red eyes. Did I mention they were ugly buggers?

So, I was showering the other day and I look up. Lo and behold there are two ginormous daddy long legs getting their spider groove on in the joint of the ceiling and the wall. I look at them, they look at me. Showering continues. All the while, I keep a leery eye on them and they keep 16 leery eyes on me. I finish and step out, grab the towel and look up at them. I proceed to inform them that they are in the spider zone. While in the spider zone, they can live peaceful lives raising their million spider babies. If they ever leave the spider zone and enter the human zone though, they will be shot on sight. I just went to shower and the spider zone is vacant. I mourn their bad decisions for they were peaceful, quiet, happy spiders. But I do not differentiate in the dark between a peaceful spider or one that tears ass across my computer monitor while I'm reading a web page, thus causing me to flail and fall backwards out of my chair and connect the back of my skull with the bed frame. It was this single act that brought about the great Spider Jihad. So, I wish you a swift death my dear voyeuristic companions and hopefully your offspring heed the treaty I made with their likely smooshed parents better.

And as far as I can think of, there aren't any in my immediate little pack so if you are of this group and take offense, well. It's probably true to some extent with you too! Mythics, dragons and gryphons and the ilk, all seem to be broken in the head. I have yet to meet one who is sane and fully functioning as a cogent member of this little subsociety or society in general. That is all. Just making an observation in attempt to start posting more. Go back about your day.

So yeah. I guess I chose an amusing time to sign back up to the local furry gab list. Anyone not on LAFF will have no idea why I just spent the last twenty minutes hooting and laughing into my pillow to keep from waking the household. God damn the puppies in this city seriously need to be neutered now so they don't breed. Fucking morons...

Finally. Last two finals out of the way, 14 more credits under my belt and I can have a social life again come the summer. Fuckin' woot! Easiest class: Dimensional Analysis of Medications. Slept through most of the lectures all the way in the shady corner in back and still got away with three of the five exams coming back with perfect scores. Worst class: Clinical psychology and sociological studies. Still passed near the top of the class but holy god in heaven be merciful was it boring. I look forward to a few months of sleeping late and having free time again.

Saw this on a friend's journal, clicked around and now I am actually really interested to see this movie. And go fig. A dog with a cat daemon. The law of dualities in action I guess.

Dimensional Analysis of Medications course - $225
Dimensional Analysis of Medciations textbook - $80
Dimensional Analysis of Medications lab fees - $125


Already mastering the class with work experience

....Priceless
Sometimes there's things money can't buy. For everything else, there's Mastercollie. God I love not having to study for tests.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-KWYYIY4jQ