tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63142557103672395422024-02-01T22:43:01.254-08:00ZombithonZombithon: Run, Bike, Drive for Your LifeSpooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-77167098311402725552016-11-23T13:54:00.000-08:002016-11-23T13:54:39.719-08:00Pissing, Shitting, Bleeding and Other Things I Do Well in the DesertSpooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-59820198176827693502014-04-15T09:11:00.000-07:002014-05-09T07:24:26.821-07:00The Struggle is Real<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">Hello All. It's been a
while. I graduated Mira Costa College with an Associates in Health Science.
Now, I am going to SDSU for my Bachelors in Foods & Nutrition and then
ultimately a Masters in "Something As of Yet Undecided". <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">I want to be a
Registered Dietitian which also requires a year long, costly internship on top
of it. I am not certain what direction I want to take with my degree once out
of college, but I am struggling with the whole process because of my weight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">I see my tiny, little,
bitty peers who are 15-20 years younger and then look in the mirror. My
peers are in excellent shape. They play sports, run marathons, lift weights, do
yoga etc. Though they drink and eat college foods, they are for the most part
good food-choicers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">I see them and have to
reconcile myself somewhere in this picture. I also have to fight the dark
voices within to manifest the light I want to be in the community. And in the
end, I need to be gentler with myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">I found a blog called
"Fat Nutritionist" and it is offering a pretty unique perspective
that is actually tailored to me and was unable to fully read it. I think that
the knowledge/ideas presented within its electronic pages will prove to be very
uncomfortable for me and my current modes of thought, but necessary. We will
see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">It talks about being
healthy at all sizes. If you are exercising, choosing healthy foods and
mentally happy - it doesn't matter how big you are. This conflicts with most of
the things I've been told about health for my whole life. I feel like the world
is rocky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 150%;">But right now, I am trying to write a shopping list of viable food sources for obtaining nutrition for a fair cost and minimal prep. So, a shopping list made out of unicorns and rainbows. Or maybe not. If I make good choices, maybe it doesn't have to be as structured as I have convinced myself. We will see. </span></div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-87974644051651069972012-10-04T10:49:00.002-07:002012-10-04T11:01:42.571-07:00My efforts to avoid the Walking Death with a Fat Ass. In May of 2012, I weighed 217lbs. This is the heaviest I've ever been in my life. In. My. Life. I took Summer Semester off academically at the college and just did exercise classes. I lost a whole 5 lbs. from May to July because my eating was out of control.<br />
<br />
On July 12th to the 15th, I went to <a href="http://www.comic-con.org/cci/">San Diego Comic Con</a>. I lost 2 whole lbs. just walking around for 5 days straight, but everything was excruciatingly painful. It was hard to sit, or stand or walk or live. Something had to give.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
On July 21st, at 210 lbs. I started a 14 day modified juice fast. Initially I got
the momster on board, though she fell off the wagon. It was Very Interesting. Sometimes, I gulped the juice down because it was like Mana from Heaven. Other times I had to quaff it like a shot, because it was the nastiest tasting swamp muck from the Devil's Ass EVAR. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUD07coQgopQrXcDRdvby5fRvjyBK1J4QLJa0LzN4GpNpoKHuW_KuVZ-YY1NSS_ve3pIhDSa_cqFd2b8Mmn2jt-NWIU7PtfJXIJGTZNrVYJKUbYv0RN63Rdy5_tbxVz4B8lAWBmbZdc3d/s1600/omega8003.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibUD07coQgopQrXcDRdvby5fRvjyBK1J4QLJa0LzN4GpNpoKHuW_KuVZ-YY1NSS_ve3pIhDSa_cqFd2b8Mmn2jt-NWIU7PtfJXIJGTZNrVYJKUbYv0RN63Rdy5_tbxVz4B8lAWBmbZdc3d/s320/omega8003.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">My clients loaned me their juicer, the Omega 8003. It was Sweet.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hit 194 on August 4th; that's a 23 pound weight loss for
those of you that care about that sort of thing. That was just so awesome my
head exploded. I had tried and tried to lose weight. It seemed like I was doomed to
ruin myself. Thank you Deity, thank you Universe, for sending me some relief
from my own craziness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Basically after the juice fast was done, I switched over to EXTREME VEGETARIANISM! No
animal products at all - NO, do not say the "v" term (for those of
you that are aware of such a term). I hate labels. I also eliminated sugar,
gluten and caffeine from my diet. Also, not eating meat products means separating myself even further from the Shambling Hordes. Think on it, you know I did.<br />
<br />
I had to reestablish a relationship with vegetables. I thought I didn't like them. I felt salads were a tool of the Skinny Man to oppress me when I went out to eat at restaurants. I felt a lot of resentment and anger at veggies and it wasn't their fault. Now I eat Faux-sagna, and Curried Cauliflower and Chai Spice Pancakes and I love it. LOVE IT. If you want the recipes, I'll post them, but someone's gotta ask.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is nice. I felt energetic and happy! These feelings are
buoyed by consistent exercise – Yoga and Body Conditioning through the college twice
a week combined with sporadic gym use and long walks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point I have dropped to 186. This weight has
fluctuated lately because I am full of crazy and am back to trying to sabotage
myself when I approach success. I can’t let this happen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why? Zombies! Of course. It always leads back to them and my
complete aversion to becoming one. Some of you may think this ridiculous, but
then riddle me this. How is a person who wanders through their life just
existing, going back and forth to work, watching t.v. and living in a quiet
desperation any different from the Walking Dead? They don’t push themselves or
explore their world. They wait for everything to come to them exerting the
minimum of effort whether it’s ideas, entertainment or sustenance. I would
never want to be this way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://thebloggess.com/">The Bloggess</a> says you should be Furiously Happy in your
life. I agree. I’m just gonna add Furiously, Happily Non-Undead. Or something
like that. It’s a work in progress. Shut Up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Said All I Need to Say for Today.</div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-88378518255861594342012-10-04T10:36:00.000-07:002012-10-04T11:05:12.732-07:00Rambo, a ninja-pirate assassin<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N7YG5SS3D1fTLaSmWt36pTi3GrQFg6fK5jep7maP-N9-ilmVVXoRrHZe5FBqQsPhbyorbTYKHDqRjTkrVeeuyIeSkHKbNX_BuJGQ4vbMbRzc4_DjtQXi1WVBtsggzin5IFQR_JsHltT_/s1600/Life.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N7YG5SS3D1fTLaSmWt36pTi3GrQFg6fK5jep7maP-N9-ilmVVXoRrHZe5FBqQsPhbyorbTYKHDqRjTkrVeeuyIeSkHKbNX_BuJGQ4vbMbRzc4_DjtQXi1WVBtsggzin5IFQR_JsHltT_/s400/Life.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This comic is from <a href="http://www.smbc-comics.com/">www.smbc-comics.com/</a>. Go check
them out!</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've really been thinking about this ever since I read
it. So, I have supposedly lived three of my lives, with the fourth on its
way in 3 years. At first, I was like...hey, Life-Waster sitting here. Then, I looked deeper. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've been a massage therapist, a corporate drone and now an
entrepreneur and college student. What will I be next? I guess I haven't wasted
as much time as I had originally felt that I had. Hm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What do you think? What have you done with your lives? I plan to be Rambo, a ninja-pirate assassin in my next life. Then, maybe a unicorn. I like the idea of stabbing people while I run them down like dogs whilst covered in sparkly glitter.<br />
<br />
The End.</div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-633596452559494402012-09-26T22:00:00.000-07:002012-10-04T10:27:10.130-07:00It felt like I was going to become the Living Dead!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
About...13 minutes ago, I thought I was having a heart
attack. My stomach started hurting and then it traveled into my back and it was
the most excruciating thing ever. Tried taking a shower and threw up. I was
totally panicking. Now I'm fine after laying on tennis balls and putting a
heating pad on my chest. Although the ache is coming back into my shoulders as
I type this, so...I should probably go to bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And an update: For everyone who was concerned about my crazy
abdominal issues the other night. There has been no repeat of the symptoms, but
since you all have been so adamant, when my check comes in I'll go to the
clinic. Although I did talk to an MD friend and he seconded the acid-reflux
diagnosis. If that is what that feels like - HOLY CRAP. My empathy for A.R.
sufferers is now much higher.</div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-40397889957616531712012-09-12T10:28:00.000-07:002012-10-04T10:30:21.701-07:00Mmm. Dead Bodies.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58FeCydrH5a07297sJZ6EsQnSsSwyo8CwgkrYZwv5K46Ld9gvH2MbhPKF-0bbpaAo1RDKAaKTUBhIOZVG58b4xZT4WTU3-TrII_hzHer2aHCUfNlvxzjcnGqlbWdTKRXosl2s5UyyGSBD/s1600/Dead+Bodies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi58FeCydrH5a07297sJZ6EsQnSsSwyo8CwgkrYZwv5K46Ld9gvH2MbhPKF-0bbpaAo1RDKAaKTUBhIOZVG58b4xZT4WTU3-TrII_hzHer2aHCUfNlvxzjcnGqlbWdTKRXosl2s5UyyGSBD/s320/Dead+Bodies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Also, it's important to note that in any horror film or action film for that matter, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the joggers/runners are much less likely to BECOME the dead body. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just Sayin'. </div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-16645526635183036782012-07-02T10:15:00.000-07:002012-10-04T10:21:44.551-07:00The Zombie Queen is Busy, Damnit!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good Morning Sweet Readers,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorry about the slow updates. I'm obviously not the best nor
most prolific blogger that ever lived. I knew that this was gonna be bulky and
time consuming to write so I kept thinking I'd do it when I had more time. I
woke up at six thirty-ish to write this. (And then didn't end up posting it
until months later, but there you are! I actually posted this in October of
2012, but it happened in July of 2012.) </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for what's happening - I think I'm transitioning. Lots of
things that have been okay are now not acceptable. This has put bumps in my
road. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finances:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These are okay. Business has been steady. Though I would
like to get ahead, I haven't yet and I'm pretty sure that this is my own doing.
Frivolous spending because it's finally okay for me to buy the little things
that I had to bypass previously. So...not sure how to overcome my own sabotage
in this area, but at least bills are paid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Health:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I hurt a lot. It's almost certainly from my massive weight
gain. I've gained 45lbs since I've started back to school. (Not in a semester,
but the whole period). It's kinda destroying my body. Feet, back, shoulders,
hips ache. It's hard to sit for prolonged periods. I wake up in the night from
discomfort and with my arms and sometimes my thighs numb. Conversely, I have
started going to a yoga class and a body conditioning class on Tuesday and
Thursday through the college. But my eating is still out of control and this
counteracts any good those classes may do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Education:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am at a still point in my education. In the fall, I will
apply to SDSU. Not sure how to go about that but I will be making an
appointment with a counselor soon to figure it out. I could have graduated from
Mira Costa last Spring with a degree in Health Science but I need 2 other
classes that have nothing to do with my degree but that are necessary to enter
SDSU's bachelor program. Silliness and hoops. In the meantime, I am taking
other classes to finish up my Certificate of Achievement in Administrative
Assistance. Since I have at least a year before I can go to SDSU, I may choose
to earn another C.o.A. in Business in addition. We'll see. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friends:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
These are shifting. Old friends are not quite meshing with
the person I am becoming and there has been conflict. New friends are entering.
I find myself in increasing new situations and I'm not quite comfortable in
them, but I suppose it's good to go out of your comfort zone socially. Gun
range, Masquerade Balls (now with real Rich People), camping trips - that sort
of thing. This equals less time for the people who are only interested in
sitting around and/or complaining. They feel neglected, which to some degree -
they are. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Family:<br />
My mom and sister are both unemployed and have been for an extended period.
They are being evicted from their home because the landlord wants to redo the
interior and rent it out for more money. They are going to move into the
smaller unit next door and pay $175 more a month for it. I don't think this is
wise, but no one is asking my opinion. I cannot fathom how they've chosen to
handle their situation, but again, they are adults and haven't asked for my
guidance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of this serves to distract and exhaust me which is why
no one sees me or hears from me. It sounds like a downer when I reread it, but
actually, I'm enjoying myself despite the challenges.<br />
<br />
It's like a rollercoaster where you feel you might be flung out into space to
die a horrible death at any moment and then when you disbark, you're giddy with
relief and you're own "bravery" at going through this self-induced
trial.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Love,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Superwoman Extraordinaire and Zombie Queen</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-41473610740326104432012-05-06T13:45:00.001-07:002012-05-06T13:47:57.743-07:00My Modern Fairy TaleSo, I was wasting time when I saw this: <a href="http://www.sevenhalos.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/prince-marry-me.jpg">And the Prince Lived Happily Ever After.</a><br />
<br />
I got to thinking - a dangerous past time, I know! Those prince and princess stories don't really provide anything for the people who are single and okay with it. The royal dudes are all supposed to swoop in and rescue the completely helpless princess. OR fight the awful witch.<br />
<br />
The above link is for men who don't participate in the stereotypical mating ritual and it's traditional outcome. Good for them and their rock concerts. But where was my Ode to Being Single? So, I gutted it and stole some commentary from <a href="http://www.couriermail.com.au/ipad/writing-the-modern-girls-fairytale/story-fn6ck620-1226244425945">this lady</a> and then spent 2 hours making my version. It may not be your version and that's ok.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjrd5H5ksWDpqngcdAkqARBQqylYbw455rIblEiTWtrLPKLeeQHh6tcjvrlDpGHvYY3XZT9mXkCf_8-AxwqDZhv3H_7KvqdQpjhrReNuhoUifnnPzrMs8MhVEIraLwECx_IGD0vA4rAxh/s1600/Once+Upon+A+Time.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjrd5H5ksWDpqngcdAkqARBQqylYbw455rIblEiTWtrLPKLeeQHh6tcjvrlDpGHvYY3XZT9mXkCf_8-AxwqDZhv3H_7KvqdQpjhrReNuhoUifnnPzrMs8MhVEIraLwECx_IGD0vA4rAxh/s640/Once+Upon+A+Time.jpg" width="444" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Now, of course, this is a Fairy Tale. So, I'm working on the fat part (and after reading that first part of this sentence, the self-esteem part). Give me time people. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthRAyvolkwszmbcVqVTfcPUITTqsRyJOYVGKaxYPTKGJRgyniYPxi4yZeCksbrs_uG-7CVr57hXsxfroNePw9TQOKEE8iecQDnjq-zz9ANZCG-dNW0RRAjLXqSGn6XnKlN9qnPZnc9XD5/s1600/Fin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjthRAyvolkwszmbcVqVTfcPUITTqsRyJOYVGKaxYPTKGJRgyniYPxi4yZeCksbrs_uG-7CVr57hXsxfroNePw9TQOKEE8iecQDnjq-zz9ANZCG-dNW0RRAjLXqSGn6XnKlN9qnPZnc9XD5/s1600/Fin.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-24161907890751490762012-04-10T14:26:00.001-07:002012-04-10T14:29:31.682-07:00I'm drowning in dead cats, sheep brains and bacteria. Seriously.School has been a soul-sucking morass; I don't really see anyone or talk to anyone. I either go from work to school (10am to 9:35pm on M & W) OR I go from school to work (8am to 7pm, T & Th) and then work again on Friday (10 to 3pm).<br />
<br />
At this moment in time it's Bacterio-palooza in Microbiology; we have an Exam next Monday. One high point is that we stain the bacteria (cause otherwise it's clear) which is kinda liking painting with microbes and we also run a lot of different tests, which is kinda like being a mad scientist. The current unit in Anatomy covers the wonders of the Nervous System so it's sheep brains and dead cats every session. Yum. Sometimes the formaldehyde actually burns your eyes and chokes you it's so concentrated. This also feels like being a mad scientist, but isn't as fun as Micro.<br />
<br />
I go to tutoring sessions, study groups and flee my own house to try to cram fuck tons of facts and concepts into my burdened brain about Microbiology and Anatomy. And yet, the "A" result that I'm looking for has not been achieved. Today was especially burdensome. I got a "D" on my Quiz.<br />
<br />
I really felt like crying in class. The teacher actually yelled at us for 30 minutes after he graded our quizzes because, as a whole, we did horribly. He said that we were the worst class in 8 years. So, that means I'm in good company surrounded by other failing retards. This fact does not help me feel better. Basically, I have been beating myself up all day.<br />
<br />
And the only thing that cheers me up is:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6mkTpm5nCtvg_cPLEWzwYl_g_L5Le8aX6u0J-Zpk9MEnliq0tMa2XqcjKItORW-zPW-52j0fVRG0e1eWqoYLBVW0HfVrPa1afmn6RQ2brqO2Gm4hnp3U98BsghEFmSd3iM7utFpjy-6UF/s1600/563656_272711239483253_157750900979288_612313_26285196_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6mkTpm5nCtvg_cPLEWzwYl_g_L5Le8aX6u0J-Zpk9MEnliq0tMa2XqcjKItORW-zPW-52j0fVRG0e1eWqoYLBVW0HfVrPa1afmn6RQ2brqO2Gm4hnp3U98BsghEFmSd3iM7utFpjy-6UF/s320/563656_272711239483253_157750900979288_612313_26285196_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's not so much that I want to start shooting all the motherfuckers in the face today, as I really don't want to worry about my "D". The Walking Dead means never having to worry about college again. Or retirement. Or the future. It's very Zen, all about living in the moment. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
All said, I still have a "B" in the class overall so, this isn't really a post so much as whining. I apologize. But now you know where I've been and what I've been doing. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The End.</div>
<br />Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-798323711262647262012-02-24T09:45:00.001-08:002012-02-24T09:49:37.557-08:00I'm cheating on my Anatomy Lab Group with other, smarter lab groups.I think we've just drifted apart, really. I mean, they are a nice, friendly group. But...our values aren't the same, and with that in mind, it just couldn't last between us. You see - I want to pass <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(with an A)</span>, and they don't seem to care if they pass (with an A or at all for that matter).<br />
<br />
I chose to join the less-than-motivated, non-grade oriented group on the first day of lab. I didn't know! I didn't <i>know</i>. They didn't have any identifiers indicating their less than stellar scholastic qualities. No one did. So when the teacher was moving everyone around and asked if I'd mind changing seats, I said I didn't cause they looked friendly. Aren't <strike>dolts</strike> less intelligent people and slackers required BY LAW to wear those little silver bracelets (maybe that's diabetics) for social emergencies (like picking lab groups)? Apparently not. Should they be? I think so.<br />
<br />
Yes. I'm that girl. I'm sure you've met me. The one completely obsessed with her grade and who is willing to fillet you alive if you get in the way or if I perceive that you're in the way.<br />
<br />
Due to situation-al circumstances, I just can't leave. No really, the teacher said we're stuck together until the end of the semester. I'm going to contact him and see if I can be switched, but I don't think it's possible. What poor matyr exists in our class that would love to be put in the dumb, slacker group?<br />
<br />
Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself. Why are they simple-minded? Why are they wastrels? Their sluggish intellect is confirmed by consistently, scarily low test scores. Their official confirmation as malingering sloth-children is proven by the following phrase, "Don't worry. We have plenty of time." I seriously have heard this about...a trabillion-zillion-cotillion times. I may start slapping them with formaldehyde soaked cat if I hear it again.<br />
<br />
So I cheated. I'm not sorry. I make no excuses. I wandered over to the smart kid group on review day and studied with them. I went to their study group on the day before the test and my scores improved. Now we are dissecting a cat and the main problem is that I <i>have </i>to stay with them. (Thus the threatened assault with embalmed feline.) <span style="font-size: xx-small;">*Have you all noticed that I am really into parathesis today? Yeah. Well suck it! </span>Our grades are irrevocably intertwined.<br />
<br />
Now, I know I'm an anal-retentive maniac. I take everything (especially cheese - not involved with the lab, but I still take it super serious) very zealously. I know that I am a very intense person and intent in getting my way All. Of. The. Time. So. There. I wanna be good, but the Dark Side is calling and I've heard it has cookies. I've been trying not to spaz all over these chicks, but that time is coming to an end. I'm gearing up for a full frontal freak out and they better watch themselves.<br />
<br />
But before that happens, as I mentioned earlier I am writing that email to flee from their malingering slack-assery. I don't think it will work. But at least, I can say I tried everything before I produce three more fresh cadavers for the BIO labs.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Finis</i></div>Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-81797971997064617562012-02-08T09:36:00.000-08:002012-02-08T09:36:53.471-08:00Signs Point To Yes (but Outlook Not So Good)I have a friend who sends me emails about the increasing speed with which some Grand Future Catastrophe will arrive. So, I know the END IS NIGH.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, just being alive I am injuring myself at an alarming rate. If this keeps up, I will be covered in I.V.'s and casts becoming nothing short of a forced buffet for the undead...provided they could gnaw through the casts. Those assholes would do it though, they're determined.<br />
<br />
I went to the gun range the other day and hurt myself shooting a 9mm. No, I didn't shoot myself in the face! Jerks! This wasn't me duking it out with Ah-nold firing machine guns at each other while leaping burning buildings, either. I shot 60 rounds and loaded my own clips and fucked myself up so badly that I had to take off two days of work, get two chiropractic adjustments and four massage plus e-stim + two weeks recovery time (while still working) before I was back to normal functioning levels. A 9 mm is a nothing sort of gun; this horrifies me. Oh noes!<br />
<br />
Now, I seem to have injured my foot. How? Completely unknown. It feels like the bones are dislocated or something and it sucks to walk or stand. Thank god I never have to do either of those as a person without a vehicle and who does massage for a living.<br />
<br />
But wait! A light shines in the darkness. There is a <a href="http://io9.com/5572364/cyborg-cat-walks-on-bionic-feet">Cyborg Cat galavanting about on Bionic Feet</a>, so maybe I have a chance...after all they say that they're starting to work towards human prosthesis.<br />
<br />
If I could replace my whole body before the Apocalypse, I think I'd be set. No more stupid injuries, the zombies probably wouldn't even register me as a human cause I'd be so full of metallic alloys. I'd just need a mechanic to keep me running in tip top condition.<br />
<br />
Excellent. Plan acquired. The end.<br />
<br />
<br />Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-46959331561558892132012-02-02T13:15:00.000-08:002012-02-02T13:15:51.492-08:00I don't react well to surprises.This equals "not good" - possibly "bad", even. If Zombies were to suddenly arise, I'd be likely to implode. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(This is the scale by which I measure the importance of all things, even if you hadn't realized it yet.)</span> Because...well, it really chafes my cheese when things don't go like I expect, especially if I had something else planned. Like, "No we can't have the End of the World today; I have D&D scheduled."<br />
<br />
A Real-Life example: I asked my sister to pick up seven Heirloom Tomatoes at the Farmer's Market today. <b>$14. </b><i>Newsflash</i>: Tomatoes now made out of gold. WHAT THE HAIRY HELL! $14. That's $2 a tomato or as the vendor puts it, $4.99 a pound. In any case, I freaked out all over her just cause I wasn't expecting to pay that much. It took me...a half an hour to calm down, realize I had acted like a douche and apologize to her <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(via facebook, shhh)</span>.<br />
<br />
It always amazes me how quickly and intensely angry I can get. Much like the Spanish Inquisition, I never expect it. And strangely, I am more likely to be pissed over some inconsequential thing, than something vital. Usually when some unpleasant, vital thing happens, I end up in shock. It's only later in the retelling that the irritability will surface.<br />
<br />
I've tried a variety of things to lessen my negative over-reactions to unexpected, unwanted situations: meditation, eliminating sugar and caffeine, breathing exercises, hypnosis, court-mandated anger management classes. I guess, I have a way to go towards being a mature adult who can handle Catastrophes with Aplomb. (I like Capitalizing Things, deal with it.)<br />
<br />
Now, let's multiply this little tomato incident with the unexpectedness of the Apocalypse. It's danger-danger time, people. But how to fix it? Just practice not sucking in social situations, I guess.<br />
<br />
Oh well. That's all.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-83919084133817799452012-01-11T23:10:00.000-08:002012-01-14T00:14:56.054-08:00It's been awhile, but don't blame me.Blame my complete loss of sanity.<br />
<br />
<u>Multiple Choice</u><br />
This last semester (which is approximately five months) I:<br />
a)Gained 27 pounds<br />
b)Broke my keyboard out of frustration<br />
c)Broke my desk out of frustration<br />
d)Got all A's in my college classes<br />
e)Really, really started my own business, in it's own office space and ran a lucrative deal with Groupon which overwhelmed my tiny brain and made me unprecedently successful<br />
f)All of the above<br />
<br />
The correct answer is "F". Not for Failure, but for Fabulous, at least this time. Yes, despite the weight gain and destruction of property. Now, I do regret the demise of my keyboard, and the upcoming demise of my desk, but the desk still functions, for the most part. Don't judge me. I mean it. You won't like it when I realize that you're judging me.<br />
<br />
<b>2011 - A retrospective.</b><br />
<br />
<b>January</b> The alpha-steroid boss didn't want to pay employee taxes and decided I needed to run my own business and pay him $500 a month for the massage closet. I ripped out my own spine and capitulated to his demands. He arbitrarily changed our payment agreement. I possibly gained an unuseful super power of <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/01/perhaps-i-have-gained-new-super-power.html">Sporadic Uncontrollable Invisibility</a>; people kept trying to run me down in the street. Started Spring Semester.<br />
<br />
<b>February</b> Alpha-steroid co-worker (now no longer boss), changed "our" pay agreement again. I actively started wondering if I would have to sell my body to survive as steady money was at an all time low. I introduced massage package deals and my clientele slowly increased. Funny how that happened. An ex-friend spontaneously contacted me, I blew him off. It actually rained this month; since I live in California, this is notable.<br />
<br />
<b>March </b>My clientele started to become steady. Alpha-steroid co-worker didn't really wanna pay me or share his clients. I started looking for another place to move my business. It all settled down. I stayed wallowing in my unhappy rutt-shaped work situation. Hm. A retrospective occured on the <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/03/so-fred-is-dead-long-live-fred-summary.html">Fishies</a> I loved and lost. NO! Not like that, you perv! All the stress made me tired.<br />
<br />
<b>April </b>This entire month was devoured by dinosaurs. Who knows what happened? I probably did homework and played a lot of Facebook games. After checking my sources (aka Facebook status updates), highlights included: A BFF who abandoned me after a supremely scary movie driving me to sleep with the lights on AND a visit to my L.Alien friends. Oh yeah. I volunteered with children to teach them about nutrition and shit. I was tired.<br />
<br />
<b>May </b>I started lasering my face off. Fun times! I obtained a personal trainer in exchange for massages. This didn't last. I got a new iPod and acquired CODE: Molerat! I ended the month with a case of the <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-was-flat-on-my-back-with-death-flu.html">Death Flu</a>, a Panic Attack and a Steampunk Ball. Nice! I was overwhelmed and tired.<br />
<br />
<b>June </b>Dreamed about the <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/06/i-think-i-dreamed-about-man-of-my.html">Man of My Dreams</a>. Met a useless Marine (not the Man of My Dreams) who I boned twice and never talked to again. I suffered an assault by my mom's pee terrorist of a dog, Horace. Praise be to Bertha, I actually practiced a High Holiday for the first time all year. I began a spree of downing lots of Diet Coke to combat my growing tiredness.<br />
<br />
<b>July</b> This was the month where I consumed more meat than my body had room for, with extra brisket on the side. Yum! Brisket! For months now, there was actually a over-arching theme of tiredness, but I really started getting tired of everything this month. My BFF and I had a sleepover and I thought about suing my neighbors. These aren't really connected. I just hated the neighbors extra this month due to their new family addition of a vicious attack chihuahua that they made no effort to control. It barked and barked. Broke my iPod and got it fixed. Went to Comic Con, lost my cheese and discovered <a href="http://axecop.com/index.php/acask/read/ask_axe_cop_60">Axe Cop</a>.<br />
<br />
<b>August </b>Official month of scary hell! Examined my <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/08/unhealed-wounds.html">divorce</a> in detail and eventually gained some internal peace. Alpha Steroid co-worker royally fucked me over and I decided to move. I cleaned a friends house for four hours, after which, the house was ready to be officially cleaned. Filthy nasty. Got text yelled at by personal trainer and never went back. I stumbled upon an awesome discovery, a <a href="http://ohellnawlblog.com/newohnblog/2011/08/17/flashdrive-vibrator-store-all-the-data-your-vagina-needs/#.Tkxcb4MygFt.facebook">Flashdrive Vibrator</a>. Not kidding here. I also asked a friend of mine to mentor me in business. The Fall Semester of College began with Chemistry and three online business courses. In the next five months, I lost my everlovin' mind. I wandered about in an exhausted, spiky haze <strike>shoving chihuahuas inside of babies and punching them</strike>.<br />
<br />
<b>September </b>Big Deal Month. Venturing forth like a rodent from it's burrow, I moved offices after much remodeling and anxiety. Then, I presented my former Alpha Steroid coworker with a $1300 bill for services rendered. Insert smug satisfaction. He paid me part of the money he owed, and then needed a little lawsuit threatening to begin paying me all the rest of the money he owed. Jerkface. Groupon spontaneously decided to run a deal with me after ignoring me for 8 months. This resulted in buku bucks for me and increased the likelihood of an upcoming mental breakdown. Yay! <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SyRvzeNuqa4&feature=share">Never Say No to Panda, bitches!</a> I <strike>turned old </strike> aged like fine wine this month. I also discovered <a href="http://www.thebreakfastclubdiner.com/">BCDC</a> right down the street from me; can you say Bacon Waffles? Hell yeah! Also, <a href="http://powerthirst./">When god gives you lemons, FIND A NEW GOD! Godberry: King of the Juice.</a> Meanwhile, due to a fuck up, a good chunk of Southern California had a power outage and it started to get a little Lord of the Flies. Told you, this was a Big Deal Month. I chronicled none of this for your amusement; I blame our upcoming Alien Overlords.<br />
<br />
<b>October</b> This was the beginning of my foray into <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/10/in-upcoming-apocalypse-well-need-child.html">Child Slavery</a>. I redefined <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/10/walking-my-talk-before-end-cometh.html">my values</a>, especially regarding Nuclear Wolves. I lost <a href="http://zombithon.blogspot.com/2011/10/upcoming-craigslist-ad.html">6000 ksph</a>, and my mind, once again. From this point on, I couldn't type one word to alert you guys what was occuring in the whirl of my existence for the REST OF THE YEAR. Insert massive sugar intake and start an overwhelming anxiety spiral. Still tired.<br />
<br />
<b>November </b>Homework made me sad. School made me anxious. Food became my Over-riding Over<em style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-style: normal; white-space: nowrap;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">führer</span></em>. I started downing multiple bags of Pop Rocks with Diet Coke regularly, but my head didn't explode once. I ate more food than was sane or healthy. I became obsessed with Zombies and <a href="http://www.ascensiongame.com/">Ascension</a>. I reached new levels of self-doubt and frailty. Throughout this year, I was obsessed with stock piling for an upcoming disaster of unparelled proportion, but around this time period, I started urging family and neighbors (the ones I like, not the other ones that I would throw towards oncoming zombie hoardes), to join me in planning our survival plans. This didn't happen. I guess I should have planned to plan our plans. No?<br />
<br />
<b>December</b> Mental and physical health deteriorated. School and work ratcheted me into a Spiral of Madness. I got sick and couldn't remember important things and started floundering in school. Then the semester finally ended with A's in every subject. Amazing the relief I felt. I was informed that I had the beginnings of Periodontal Disease and had to get my teeth <i>planed</i> and <i>lasered</i>. The last part is okay, because at least, then they matched my face. I threw an Extraordinary Party, in fact, I would say that my 17th Annual Winter Solstice Shindig leveled up this year. A friend visited from Texas and we had a pretty good time and I managed not to murder him. Another friend visited from Italy; this was much more snuggly and happy. After they left, more relief ensued. I attended my family's annual Christmas celebration for my brother and the Annual Gamer Christmas at another friends house and survived. Again amazing amounts of relief to be had. I spent New Year's Eve with my BFF, her family and my roomates. Lovely.<br />
<br />
And now, 2012. <br />
<br />
I'll tell you more about that later. But the whole point of this lengthy recitation? None. Other than to remind myself of all I have endured and all that I still have to endure. I accomplished eight of about forty or so goals. I did a bunch of stuff that wasn't on my goal list. I don't know if it evens out or if Life can even be "evened out". I survived and that's what counts I guess.<br />
<br />
I'm on the edge and have never been happier. My eyes are a bit bulgier and I sometimes overreact like a rabid badger, but overall I am super happy. So yeah.<br />
<br />
'Nuf said.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-5981487845623773112011-10-30T16:51:00.000-07:002011-11-01T00:07:19.641-07:00Upcoming Craigslist Ad<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>MISSED CONNECTION</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Mind and 6,000 KSPH - women4inanimate objects</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" noshade="" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Date: 2011-10-30, 1:21PM PDT<br />
Reply to: My Ass!</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" noshade="" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where the fuck did you guys go? We were just together a
couple of hours ago and then you both ran off and abandoned me! Nice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Symbol; text-indent: -24px;"><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span>it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services
or other commercial interests</li>
</ul>
<br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" class="MsoNormalTable">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;"></td>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;"></td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;"></td>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;"></td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PostingID: 123456789</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<hr align="center" noshade="" size="2" width="100%" />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>Seriously, people. Losing my cheese right now. Taking a 10-key class and on the previous assignment I got 14,680 KSPH (keystrokes per hour) with 100.0% accuracy and now I can barely get past 8000 KSPH with mistakes. What the Duck is going on? </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>This assigment should take about 30 seconds and I should do 3 trials of it. That's one minute and thirty seconds and we <i>should</i> be able to put this baby to bed. It's been about an hour. </o:p>Thus you see the source of my cheese-less state. The cheese has been lost along with my mind and 6,000 KSPH. That's a lot of losing and it makes me feel like a loser. I hate that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>It's such a small thing too. This is only one of the four classes I'm taking right now, and to be truthful, the least important. I don't know why it's bothering me so fucking much. BUT IT IS! </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p>The Resolution? I'm gonna try to do this on a different computer. Maybe it's not me, maybe it's technical issues. (It's probably me.) </o:p>I'm taking a break and my sister is bringing me a smoothie. Maybe that'll help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><i>Fin</i></o:p></div>
<br />
UPDATE: It was I. Well, it was! Basically - I finished typing the numbers and then stopped when I just should have started typing from the beginning of the excercise until time ran out. Oh well. My apologies as follows:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I'm sorry keyboard for breaking you. I'm sorry desk for
smashing you. I'm sorry me for saying such nasty things to you. I just missed
an unstated step. At least, I think it's unstated. I need a hug.</i></div>Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-49036724133793026072011-10-04T01:09:00.000-07:002011-10-07T01:28:35.824-07:00Walking my Talk before the End Cometh...I realized tonight that it was October 2011. That's like...fourteen months before the <a href="http://www.endofworld.net/">End of the World</a>, or so <i>they</i> say. And I know what you're thinking, why am I listening to <i>them</i> again, when did <i>they</i> ever get it right? Better safe than sorry on this one, people.<br />
<br />
So, back to my point. I do have one, swear! I've had all these goals for a while now. And if the world is gonna end, I'll need to pick up the pace if I'm gonna make it in time. Because like...for example, can't see the world if it ends, ya know? Learning how to shoot a gun prior to the Apocalypse (and owning at least one) might be a good idea. Not gonna have time to finish one of my books running and hiding from our future Evil Overlords in the sewer when the government hits full-on Big Brother Evolution and comes to enslave us all. Or whatever.<br />
<br />
This is called being "proactive", boys and girls. Say it with me - Pro-Act-Ive. Just because you have no conceivable way of predicting the future, doesn't mean you shouldn't be ready. You've gotta use your imagination to imagine the worst and then prep for it! Zombies (of course, my favorite!), <a href="http://thestir.cafemom.com/baby/122086/lesson_19_will_babies_survive">Nuclear Wolves</a> (this was new and I had never heard of them before), Imminent Economic Collapse, A rampant world wide plague or a comet crashing into the planet. Get On It People!<br />
<br />
I know that it hasn't been my best quality in the past, but I am getting better. I grok this to be true BECAUSE I went through my goals and realized I had accomplished some of them, the harder ones too. I also accomplished some I didn't even know I'd made for myself.<br />
<br />
A not so comprehensive list in no particular order:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Started my own business this year. </li>
<li>Allowed myself to be Happy and Positive most of the time despite a possible law suit with my former Alpha Steroid Boss. </li>
<li>Organized my books. </li>
<li>Framed all my artwork and THEN hung it all up. Who knew this could ever be achieved?</li>
<li>Made new friends </li>
<li>Stepped it up with my future financial security via an I.R.A and Life insurance, like a Bad Ass Mother Fu'ing Adult.</li>
</ul>
<div>
However, as monumental as these accomplishments are, they aren't necessarily gonna rescue me from a predatory alien race, so perhaps it's time for me to make a newer, more survive-y, practical list.</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Start my own bomb shelter</li>
<li>Allow myself to be Hyper-vigilant and ruthless. </li>
<li>Organize my gun collection. </li>
<li>Frame all my neighbors and THEN hang them all up. Who knew <i>this</i> could ever be achieved? Especially with the crazy lady and her demon spawn next door. Grumble, grumble, grumble.</li>
<li>Stockpile food. YUM. I love me some dinner in a can.</li>
<li>Make friends with bikers.<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"> (Never know when you need a quick getaway with some friendly acquaintances who don't give a hoot about little things like...the Law.)</span></i> <--This is me whispering. Don't tell the authorities, 'kay?</li>
<li>Step it up on the physical fitness. You can't outrun those 28 Days zombies if you are carrying a spare set of tires. You can't outrun a riot at all, but I guess I shouldn't be so defeatist.</li>
<li>Enjoy myself now, cause after the world ends, no one will ever enjoy themselves again, except psychopaths...</li>
<li>WAIT. Become psychopath.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Ah clarity. Thanks you guys. You acted like a sounding board to my insanity. </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Nuff said.</div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-84369264905857510762011-10-02T21:12:00.000-07:002011-10-02T21:12:12.281-07:00In the Upcoming Apocalypse, we'll need Child Slaves..So. In preparation, I kidnapped my friend, Jenna's child, Augmo and inducted her into slavery. I think I did it wrong.<br />
<br />
<b>The proposition: </b><br />
<b>Me:</b> Hey Augmo? Care to come over to my house and slave for me?<br />
<br />
<b>Her:</b> How's that work, exactly?<br />
<br />
<b>Me:</b> We will rearrange and alphabetize my bookshelves and instead of paying you a wage, I will give you a meal and a movie. Fair? <i>(Little did she know that I have six bookshelves! Bwahaha!)</i><br />
<br />
<b>Her:</b> Sure. I like organizing books. (Or something like that, anyway. I can't be expected to remember everything.)<br />
<br />
This sounds flawless right? So, maybe it wasn't slavery per se, since I was offering compensation.<br />
<br />
<b>The actual execution:</b> Not as flawless.<br />
<br />
I acquired the child on Saturday night. We watched Monsters Inc. then went to sleep. Apparently at some point, I opened my eyes and chirped, "Hello boggle!" and went back to sleep. I do that sort of thing, but <strike>can't</strike> shouldn't be held responsible.<br />
<br />
She woke sometime around dawn thirty and bumbled around, kinda waking me up but being as quiet as a young girl can. I woke at 8:30 and took a shower to start the resurrection process. Then I carted her down the street to BC/DC, a local eatery that serves Bacon Waffles and other <i>haute cuisine</i>. After breaking our fast, we returned to the house with a small stop for shopping shenanigans.<br />
<br />
Once re-ensconced within my residence, I printed out my list of hardback books. I have about....5 lists categorizing the different sorts of books that I have: hardback, paperback, art book, comic and occult. Thereupon, <i>I</i> proceeded to take them all off the shelves - <i>by myself</i>- and alphabetize them - <i>by myself</i>.
<br />
<br />
Periodically, I would ask her to move books away or bring them back, but for the most part, this was a solo expedition. We put on Howl's Moving Castle and she was entranced. At one point she did dust some of my shelves.<br />
<br />
A break was called, as my friend Adriana, was going to meet me at my office to deliver my new swanky sign. She kept postponing, so I started the dishes and Augmo vacuumed. (This turned out to be the culmination of her efforts! And I really appreciated it, as I HATE the vacuum.)<br />
<br />
FINALLY Adriana, did confirm that she would be showing up soon. So we vacated my apartment to go meet her. Some yard sale shenanigans interrupted our journey, but eventually we made it there and returned home.<br />
<br />
The hardback books shelved and alphabetized, I turned towards the paperbacks and did these completely by myself. Augmo supervised me while she watched Kiki's Delivery Service.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, it was time for the movie, Dolphin Tale.
Yeah. No. For what it was, a kid's animal love movie, it was okay. For any movie that I'd care to watch, it was a long 112 minutes. Right after, Jenna and her hubby, Joe retrieved the kidlet and she wandered away with some gems, a stuffed animal, and about 6 new books.<br />
<br />
All is now quiet on my Western front, once again.<br />
<br />
Yep. I re-read this entry. I did it wrong. Stephen, my previous slave was much more slave-y. I'll have to work on my Child Slavery efforts in the future and put my best foot forward.<br />
<br />
No more for now.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-18518334565952668462011-08-26T21:21:00.000-07:002011-10-04T01:23:22.750-07:00Unhealed Wounds.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
It amazes me that after seven years, I still have unhealed wounds from my divorce. Moreover, I keep picking at them. I just starting looking for my exhusband online. And found his journal and a pic. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/311985_2255617880130_1538832043_3586062_2255294_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" class="photo_img img" src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/311985_2255617880130_1538832043_3586062_2255294_a.jpg" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 493px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 180px;" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Kinda looks a bit Chester, chester....you know the rest. Yes? No?</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
Now. I know better than to read the journal of someone who hates me. I know better. So I read it.</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<strong>From a meme from Feb. 2004: </strong></div>
<blockquote style="border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
5. Your spouse has become nervous wreck since he/she began day trading on the Internet. But he/she made $10K in a month. Do you make him/her stop? </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
*snort*. Like my (ex)spouse could actually make any gainful money on her own. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
16. If you could use a voodoo doll to hurt anyone you chose, would you? </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
Yep. And there's a certain person in mind, as well.</div>
</blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<strong>From a previous entry from Feb. 2004:</strong></div>
<blockquote style="border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 5px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; padding-top: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
The bitch-ex-wife: Goes to court on Monday. Lawyer has all the paperwork. Hopefully, the Lawyer will fuck her world up and make her sorry she ever tried to be a greedy little twit.</div>
</blockquote>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
There's more. It's pointless to write it all down. Our relationship took a nasty turn in July after I found out he had lied about the purchase of a vehicle. Then <em>he</em> asked for a divorce. Then everyone found out that...I'm greedy. He wasted a lot of time on me, energy and money (REALLY? WHEN?) and the marriage was a failure. Blah, blah, blah. His journal for many months concentrates on all the injustices done to him and how all the people (except for me) who helped him through these injustices and tribulations were awesome. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
He thanks his therapist and states that getting therapy helped him handle his life better. Forgetting to mention that I had demanded he see a shrink because I doubted the marriage could recover if he was left to his own devices to work toward improvement. Prior to therapy, he was an undiagnosed, unmedicated chronic depressive who had already tried to take his own life once (not while we were married). </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
I enumerated the ways that it was possible for me to fuck him over (this from anecdotal evidence involving other Marines), and then stressed how I hadn't done any of it and all that did was confirm in his suspicious weasel mind that I had always been out to get him. I hadn't. I could still perform some heinous financial fuckery if I cared to right now...I won't and I never did/will. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
And last, but not least, he always underestimated me/looked down on me. He really thought I was a shiftless idiot basically. That kinda stings from the person who supposedly loves you and is supposed to be on your side. Several of these sort of entries proved to me that HE was the perpetrator of injustice and his accusations were like slaps.</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
Yet you know what, he's partially right. I did do some injustices to him. I wanted to hurt him so I asked for stuff in the divorce. I didn't want it; I wanted him to hurt as much as he'd hurt me. And I succeeded. I was miserable and I wanted to share. And I succeeded. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
It's really weird too because as I investigate earlier entries prior to the schism, you don't see mention of me at all. I didn't really seem to exist and if you were reading his journal, you wouldn't know he was even married. He mentions a woman name Maureen a lot. This also kinda stings, cause you know, basically I'm his wife and if I was outta sight...I was outta mind, apparently. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
Then, it shifts and I read even earlier entries about how exhausting his therapy sessions were and I feel that I may have wronged him by suggesting that he wasn't trying as hard as I was since he only went to therapy once a month and I was going every week. I'm also tossing around the idea of how difficult I KNOW military life to be and how I may not have given him credit for trying to deal with that while being chronically depressed on meds and with the possibility of an impending divorce. I also see that I didn't keep in contact as much as I could've. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
Strangely, I started this post with a lump in my throat, feeling attacked and defensive. I feel lightened now. Yes, he's still a Big Bag of Douche and no, I don't ever want to see him again BUT now I remember why I married him (just a little bit) and loved him (still do a bit).</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
I also remember the nastiness I had stored up being so unhappy with a person who couldn't meet my needs and whose needs I was incapable of meeting. I remember my unyeildingness. I remember when I stopped trying to make it work. Once I stopped the marriage was pretty much over because I think he was literally incapable of the emotions needed to maintain a marriage. I don't mean this as a stab at him - just the truth as I see it.</div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
He's a person, not a monster. I'm a person, not a monster. We made mistakes and it ended badly. </div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.5em;">
I guess, with this rambly note, I just wanted to say, I'm not that angry girl anymore. And possibly he wasn't as bad as I remember? Or maybe he was, but I was just as bad? Meh. Regardless, I want to move past any similar mistakes in my future relationships, providing that there ever are any...</div>
Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-90041028463181509262011-08-18T01:11:00.000-07:002011-10-04T01:15:38.965-07:00You may have noticed a bit of laxity upon my part.It's gonna happen, probably a lot.<br />
<br />
Period.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-49661828563438089782011-07-04T20:33:00.001-07:002011-07-04T20:33:25.318-07:00SchoolI hate feeling stupid. I'm taking a Computer Applications class. I do the tutorial step-by-step via the book and everything goes hunky dory. I try the stupid fucking test - it won't do it. It just WON'T DO IT! I want to kill something or someone right now. I'm not stupid. Why does it look like I am?Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-50944005382135130552011-06-13T19:38:00.001-07:002011-06-13T19:52:17.217-07:00I think I dreamed about the Man of my DREAMSSo, yes, it would make sense, since he is the MAN OF MY DREAMS, to, you know, dream about him. But I think I actually did, <i>this morning</i>! <br />
<br />
I had a tarot reading awhile back and was told I have love coming into my life - provided that I work on myself for the next three months. The psychic suggested that I ask deity to send me a glimpse in my dreams. And I think I actually dreamed of him... It's kinda cool.<br />
<br />
In the dream, his name was Duncan. He was stocky with long pale curly hair. He seemed a bit surly and the psychic said he'd be jolly, so maybe that wasn't him. Thought I'd post this so if I read back and I'm with this guy...I'll remember and my psychic powers will be comfirmed. You see?<br />
<br />
That's all for now.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-1320847687678448242011-06-04T17:40:00.000-07:002011-06-04T17:40:36.724-07:00Having a mild panic attack. Wish me luck.Not sure if its the corset or if I really can't breathe so....yeah.<br />
<br />
The whole Steampunk thing tonight. Like I mentioned earlier, I don't feel pretty or feminine lately. Gained weight and everything fits weird. <br />
<br />
Also, there are supposed to be rich people there and I'm so obviously not rich. I don't know a lot of people there either. This happens everytime I'm supposed to go out somewhere though. It's why I don't often go to things...but I'm making myself go. Cause I can't stay inside the house forever.<br />
<br />
My brain is crazy. I'll try to post pics.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-52171679874381310102011-06-04T11:10:00.000-07:002011-10-04T01:24:40.851-07:00I was flat on my back with the Death Flu and other excuses...Well, ladies and gents it's true. I got way super sick; it may have, in fact, been the Death Flu. This is still unconfirmed. I woke up two Fridays ago with a little tickle in the back of my throat. I overexerted myself that day and just messed up my Whole Immune System which in turn just spiraled down into a vortex of plague. Example: Sunday - I slept 21 hours with mini breaks to pee, then ingest vittles and fluids. I actually cancelled three massages on Monday...after I did one and felt like a sailor on the rolling deck of some psychotic ship. So what does it all mean? No working out. That's what. Excuse # 1. <br />
<br />
The rest of the week I went back to work, but still didn't feel 100% better, so I didn't work out 'til Thursday when my personal trainer showed up. (Thank Bertha for him!) Excuse # 2. He made me do a bunch of core work which kicked my butt (I <i>know</i>! I must be doing it wrong - your abs aren't in your butt!) and reminded me of my imminent devouring should any Undead rise. <br />
<br />
So, that's good. It's nice to keep motivated EXCEPT the very next day after doing five massages, I decided not to work out again cause I was <i>tired</i>. Excuse # 3.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I'm supposed to go to a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steampunk" title="Steampunk"></a> Ball tonight. I don't really feel pretty or feminine lately. And like Cinderella, I don't really have anything to wear...EXCEPT I might. I've gained a lot of weight so the Brain-splosion I had just before falling asleep last night may not work. At which point, I risk embarrassment. And so I don't wanna go. <i>Potential</i> Excuse # 4. <br />
<br />
It could be good though. I could meet the Man of My Dreams who will stand with me when the Apocalypse arrives and give me foot rubs. Can I really pass this opportunity up? I say nay. Wish me luck y'all. I'm gonna go give myself an extreme makeover. Cause a lady should always look her best with Armagedon approaching. That's my advice for today. No excuses. That's all I have to say.<br />
<br />
<br />
<center><b>STEAMPUNK</b> <br />
<img alt="Con 2010" src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e3/shanmir/Con108.jpg" /></center>Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-6127275574336679222011-05-09T18:43:00.000-07:002011-05-10T22:40:08.074-07:00Putting my ass where my mouth isI'm trying to put my ass where my mouth is. I know, this sounds somewhat off-putting and unhygienic. Usually, people put their "money" where their mouth is to indicate dedication to a certain course of action, but my goal can't be brokered by a piece of cotton and linen. So in the interest of Truth, Justice and all that jazz, I'm investing in a smaller <i>derriere</i>. You see I've kvetched and kvetched about how large (and in charge?) I am. I've made goals, and of course, neglected them. Even the title of this blog involves exercising your way to a better life, hopefully free of zombie bites. This should indicate that exercise and health are important to me and I should be hip deep in flabbergasting fitness. Not so much. <br />
<br />
My obstacles: lack of consistent motivation, eating on the run, eating with friends, late night eating and a complete distaste for exerting myself. This means I am a chunkster. And this undoubtedly means that should the ravening hordes rise right now, they'd easily take a chunk out of me.<br />
<br />
My solutions? I have obtained a personal trainer to motivate me to do certain exercises, and in fact, push the envelope of my physical fitness. (BTW: Why is it always pushing the envelope? Why can't we push the letter? Or even a package? I like packages; they always have neat stuff especially on the opposite sex, but I digress.) I design nutrient balanced, calorie specific food plans to meet my nutritional and weight loss needs. I pre-package healthy foods so I can grab them on the go. I bring my own food to friend's houses or I try to choose the healthiest option on the menu when eating out and then box up 1/2 to 2/3rds of it at the beginning of the meal. So, I should be a swami of shapely strength, right? Again, not so much.<br />
<br />
My biggest obstacle after overcoming the previous obstacles? I think like a fat person. I see myself getting healthy and sabotage it with the "I need a candy bar and some ice cream" thoughts. Solution? A shrink? Who knows? It might really take the apocalypse to get me to exercise regularly and eat healthy. Only time will tell.<br />
<br />
But I did get my keister into the gym today. I did push the <strike>envelope</strike> package (!) and I have the slightly achy muscles to prove it. I did bring pre-portioned healthy food choices and I even ATE them. So far so good. I should go to bed right now to preserve this good day. This is unlikely. I still have to play Gardens of Time on Facebook. This is eating my brains, so at least the zeds will be shit out of luck and cheerfully fucked by the time they get here! SCREW YOU ZOMBIE SCUM. That is all.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-68452186195281222512011-05-06T20:44:00.000-07:002011-05-06T20:44:06.133-07:00Time: It passes.Finally, I have a mini moment to breathe. So I feel motivated to blog after two-ish months. Work, school, volunteering and decompressing (this is the most important one) have combined to turn me into a spastic drooling monster. But I haven't started eating other people's brains yet, so..that's good.<br />
<br />
I remember the beginning of the year, full of hope and good intentions where I decided I'd blog everyday about how zombie apocalypses could help you to be a better person. Yeah. That happened. I made so many goals for 2011. Daily goals, monthly goals, annual goals and so on. I haven't accomplished even one consistently. I still have time, but it boggles my mind how quickly the year is progressing. Much like a rotting horde of undead, you just never realize how quickly things are approaching and then...too late. The ability to avoid this unexpected encroachment is what all those life coaching experts are talking about...planning, being "proactive", taking action! <br />
<br />
If you make a plan covering a step by step process to achieve something and then follow through with it, you will not be caught unawares by last minute obstacles. You'll have given yourself enough time for cluster fucks and delays because you're ahead of the game or the cadaverous crowd. <br />
<br />
I guess, in a way, this is an ongoing life lesson for me. Because I keep making the same stupid mistake but recreating it in 32 new and exciting flavors. I guess I need refresher courses in following through with my plans and keeping my word...to myself. It's horrible when you continuously disappoint yourself with your own lies. <br />
<br />
But it's not as though my life has become a horrible sham like the purported existance of "customer service" from civil servants. I am accomplishing things, just not as many as I thought I would. Most of my goals are habits I'd like to acquire, especially regarding self-care. You would not believe how hard it is for me to floss everyday. Saving my tips - might as well ask me to chop off my own arm. Selling MK is the worst because after all the money I've spent into it you'd think I'd be so motivated. It's really not even very hard to sell. Apparently, I'd rather pay someone to laser off my face (this is actually happening) than to make extra money and validate this financial choice that I'm still paying John back for. <br />
<br />
Enough beratement. Things I AM actually accomplishing: A's in all four of my classes, booked nearly two weeks solid and into June for my business, face lasering (wanted this for 6 years), all bills paid so far, nearly paid John off, made first payment to my dad, got a personal trainer (sorta even doing what he's telling me to do), winning the Pulitzer Prize (this is a lie, shh, don't tell.)and so much more.<br />
<br />
Fun Fact: Ben & Jerry's just came out with "Late Night Snack" ice cream. I don't know what to make of it. Vanilla bean ice cream with a salty caramel swirl & fudge covered potato chip clusters. Hm. Maybe I should try eating the brains of my fellow man, it's gotta be better for me. No sugar, protein source...hm. That is all.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6314255710367239542.post-90122099141568549172011-03-12T14:04:00.000-08:002011-06-04T11:24:41.396-07:00So Fred is Dead, Long live Fred. The summary of my watery murders.The first fishy I ever had, I won at a rinky dink carnival inside my grocery store's parking lot some time in '92 or '93. I named him Fred at a recently acquired friend's suggestion. Apparently the name makes fish live longer. I don't know about this...but... <br />
<br />
<br />
I do know that that little guy lived through a crap ton in the brief time that he lived with me. Sitting on a ledge, talking with the above mentioned friend just after I'd won him, she accidentally kicked the cup he was in to the ground. It broke. He lay amongst the shattered plastic gasping in the ever shrinking pool of water. I leapt up and desperately ran across the parking lot to the Taco Bell clutching the broken plastic cup and ever diminishing water with fish in hands. Slapping my fish in his shattered cup down upon their counter and splashing water all over the place; I demanded a cup of water from the ESL cashier. He handed me a glass of ice water. Fred's little body went rigid in the cold. I had trouble conveying that I wanted lukewarm water, but finally I got it across. <br />
<br />
After another bout of moist mess making, I got my newly acquired fish into the lukewarm cup. At first, he floated there rigidly. Then he started swimming normally with a nonchalance that surprised me. He seemed to be saying, “What? This is how I roll. I won't let near death by falling, icy cold immersion or ammonia keep me down." Fred survived the weekend despite my ignorant ill treatment and a lack of food and oxygen. I kept him in that Taco Bell cup with tap water and carried him around for three days because I 1) had no tank for him and 2) didn’t go straight home. Once I even left him in a car with the windows up and it was full summer. Finally, he died a week later in a Goldfish bowl with untreated water and no aerator. My ignorance resulted in his death, but this seems to be a theme with fish and me. R.I.P. Fred. I'm sorry. <br />
<br />
Many years later, I won a second Goldfish at the Del Mar fair, probably in '99. He was named Fred Squared in honor of the first long lived Fred fishy. He lived for many years in a 2 gallon tank quite happily. I did some research and obtained the basic skills to not murder him within a week. Then he started swimming erratically. He began slamming himself from the floor of the tank to the ceiling. I thought it might be because his tank was now too small for him so a friend of me purchased a...terrarium for my birthday sometime in 2004. It worked for awhile. It was five gallons and he stopped swimming erratically, but he looked lost in all that water. <br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e3/shanmir/Fred.jpg"><br />
<b>FRED SQUARED</b></center><br />
<br />
So just before a birthday dinner with James and another friend, Alex, I received a Calico Fantail Goldfish, also in 2004. We had been window shopping while waiting for our table. The fishy ended up spending a couple of hours in a plastic bag in the car while we ate. We weren't sure if he'd make it so the boys kept suggesting names like Drop Dead Fred and Nearly Dead Fred. I named him Fred Zombie because he had a black patch over one eye that looked like a blown pupil. <br />
<br />
He joined the 5 gallon tank with Fred Squared. This is when I discovered that Goldfish are kinda xenophobic. Not only do they hate other fish species, but they don't even like different subspecies of other Goldfishes. Fred Squared was a Comet Goldfish; nice gold color, streamlined body, approx. 4 inches. Fred Zombie was, as I mentioned, a Calico Fantail, which means he looked like those Goldfish in Disney's Fantasia; he was also on 2 inches or so. As Fred Squared was bigger than Fred Zombie, it became readily apparent that he could easily bully him without repercussions; what a nasty little fucker he was. He would slap Fred Zombie aside and steal his food. So, I decided there needed to be more fish to distract him. <br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e3/shanmir/FredZombie.jpg"><b>FRED ZOMBIE</b></center><br />
<br />
I initially purchased 6 (although it turned out to be 5, cause 1 died right away) Whitecloud Mountain Minnows to be Goldfish Companions on the premise that they were the only fish that got along with Goldfish. But since they were so small, I put them in a separate tank from the Goldfish because I thought that their existence would be reduced to that of a Mobile Biscuit until they grew bigger. I dubbed them the Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow Collective as they all looked the same and showed no particularly disguising personality characteristics.<br />
<br />
Then the terrarium gave way. Early in the morning, upon waking to go to work, I discovered a watery wonderland in my living room and the fish were warily swimming in their severed depleted leaking tank. I had to purchase another tank last minute. So the fish went from 5 gallons to 15. They looked lost in the wilderness. <br />
<br />
Well, time passed and the minnows never really got that big, but I figured either they would serve their intended purpose as Goldfish Companions or I was gonna have to sell them back to the fish store. So, I amalgamated the tanks. Well, at first Fred Squared (official bully of fish everywhere) and Fred Zombie did, indeed, try to transform the Whitecloud Mountain Minnows into Mobile Biscuits at a underwater tea party, but the Fred Minnows weren't having any. They swam like the dickens. So, all was happy on that fluid front for many years. <br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e3/shanmir/MountainMinnows.jpg"><br />
<b>FRED WHITECLOUD MOUNTAIN MINNOW - THE COLLECTIVE</b> <br />
See, this is what they looked like...only more boring.</center><br />
<br />
Later, I received a fishy named Fredpoleon from a friend would had to move and couldn’t take him with. He was a golden fantail, very small and very pretty. He was not long for this earth. He got swimbladder when I went away to Thailand. I suspect my sister overfed him. He would often float/swim sideways, but seemed happy and to suffer no lasting ill effects from it. <br />
<br />
<center><img src="http://i36.photobucket.com/albums/e3/shanmir/Fredpoleon.jpg"><br />
<b>FREDPOLEON</b></center><br />
<br />
In the interim, I saved the life of a Beta fish. I removed him from the Pestilential Pit of Petco and set him up in the old fish tank. He's hid at the bottom, but eventually came out of his fishy shock to see the new Posh Palace of Fishdom that he was now ensconced in. At a client's urging, and some research I found out that "Fred" meant "peace" (according to this baby name site) and "Xian" means "peace or peaceful" in Chinese, (I think). I had originally named my fishy "Xian-Fred" but since they mean the same thing, I have now shortened it to "Xian". But really, his name is still "Fred" just, you know, in a different language. Around Feb. 21st 2007 Xian died. No ick, no fin rot, no funny swimming. Just upside down on the bottom of the tank. R.I.P. Xian. Why the hell did you die?!<br />
<br />
Around Mar. 20th 2008, just before I changed residences, Fred Squared got sick and just laid listlessly at the bottom of the tank. I went to the store and put him in the medical tank with some salt as was recommended. He died anyway. It may well have been my fault for overfeeding him at first and then for immediately changing his environment (albeit in an effort to save him) and throwing him into shock from which he couldn't recover. I mourned him for months with black organza ribbon hung from my lamp. R.I.P. Fred Squared. I mourn you still. You were a nasty fucker, but secretly I think I liked that best.<br />
<br />
Then around June 27th 2008, right after I moved, Fredpoleon died and I never knew why. HE WAS FINE AND THEN HE WAS DEAD! and I NEVER KNEW WHY! Shock, angst, who knows? R.I.P. Fredpoleon. You were never really "my" fish since you belonged to someone else first, but no fish deserves to go that way.<br />
<br />
A couple of days later, Fred Zombie collapsed (if you can apply that verb) on his side on the bottom of the tank and never got better. I couldn't stand to see him that way, so I consulted the internet and found a way to euthanize him using clove oil and vodka. Unfortunately, I didn't have the time to properly do it and his end was heart breaking and violent - which was the last thing I wanted. I called my friend Anthony in hysterical tears and made him finish the job as I had to leave for work. That day was horrible. R.I.P. Fred Zombie. You broke my heart.<br />
<br />
I didn't even want the Whitecloud Mountain Minnows any more as I had only gotten them as companions for the Goldfish. But I kept them and for several years they lingered on past any affection I could ever feel for them. One got pregnant and then died from complications. Others randomly floated to the top of the tank after showing no signs of illness and the rest of the fish seemed fine. R.I.P. Collective. I'm not really sorry you're gone. Hopefully, in the next life you'll be more interesting fishes. <br />
<br />
Finally, there was just one fishy left. I dubbed him Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow – The Survivor. A couple of days ago, he started swimming crazily around the tank, right after the last water change. I found him floating upside down this morning, gasping and barely alive. This time I took the time to do it right and used the clove oil to put him down. He peacefully (for the most part) went to the fishy Elysium this morning around 11. R.I.P. Fred Whitecloud Mountain Minnow – The Survivor. No more fish for me. <br />
<br />
I am reconsidering plants at this point. Maybe I’m just not up to taking care of anything living. Heck, lately, I feel ill suited to taking care of myself. This is a long entry, so that’s all I’m going to say.Spooky Pookie Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11776041024817278628noreply@blogger.com0