Thursday, September 28, 2006

An updated update...

A few people have asked me how to help Donna and her fund for Sugar. I am getting in touch with her, but if you prefer, you can also send your donations directly to:

The Fairfield Area Humane Society
1721 Granville Pike
Lancaster, Oh 43130
by phone at: 740-687-0627

Thank you for everyone who has offered to help. You bitches rock!

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Pour some Sugar on me! (an update on abandoned dog Sugar)

Wow! It looks like little Sugar has a few guardian angels. One of these angels is my dear friend and faithful reader Donna.

She writes:
"I have started a fund here at my full-time job for Sugar, which we will be sending in on Friday. Right now I have pledges of over $100! Hopefully Sugar will have her surgery, and a new and loving family soon."

That is fantastic Donna!! I knew people in the city would stand up to help her out, and you are such a kind and giving woman that it came to no suprise you would be one of those angels to help her.

If anyone out there is interested in contributing to Donna's fund, please let me know. You can always e-mail me at, and I will get you in touch with her.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

< not Roger, that's good 'ole Tom

Dearest Roger,

You wrote to me the most lovely MySpace message last night. I am such a lucky woman to receive such a nice thought -- especially after being so upset! I appreciated you taking the time to write, and I just need to share your poetic words with the rest of the world:

"31/m depressed and in search of good blow job.... intested? let me know"

Wow! I mean, wow! How could a girl possibly pass up such a respectful invitation from a complete stranger? It was a hard decision, but Alas, I must.

However Roger, I have a suggestion for you. A little piece of advice to help you on your Quest. Go to the bank and take out, oh I don't know, $50 bucks. ...and get yourself a good pounding up the ass by some lovely "working girl" named Todd.

Happy searching,

Friday, September 22, 2006

Having a bad day.

So, I had a pretty bad night tonight. I don't know why, but I spent a good hour crying my eyes out. I think I am just really frustrated with being sick. My chest was really heavy today and although I wasn't in the pain I have been in, I still found it hard to breathe.

I decided to call my parents and ask them if they thought I should start taking the heavy-duty drugs my doctor gave me. The doctor said to take it until I felt better and then stop. I followed her advice and stopped when the pain ended. However, I am still feeling shitty.

After another half-hour of bawling my eyes out on the phone with them, we decide I need to start taking the drugs again. But I think my folks upset me more than the frustration of my illness.

I told them that I was upset because I was so frustrated. Frustrated over the doctor not being able to give me a reason why I am sick. All the doctor said is that it was just "the luck of the draw." I know medicine does not have all the answers, but what the fuck kind of thing is that to say to a patient? My mother's reaction was to say that, "well, there is no reason why people get Leukemia, they just do. At least you aren't as bad off as they are."

Well no shit, mom. But does that mean that I can't feel sorry for myself every once in a while? Christ, I know there is always someone in the world with a worse situation than myself. All I wanted was for them to say that they were sorry I was hurting and upset and frustrated. Sorry that I am afraid. I just wanted them to pretend to feel some sort of empathy. Not brush me off and change the subject.

I went through this all on my own. I am still going through this on my own. I know I have friends out there who would have been more than willing to take care of me, but I am not one of those people who can be sick in front of someone. I don't ask for help very well. My pride turned into just feeling really lonely.

All those people out there with partners, husbands, wives, roommates -- you are so fucking lucky. You have someone who you can go to in the middle of the night and cry to because you are scared. You have someone to hold your hand in the emergency room. Someone that you won't feel you are putting out by doing so. It is different with lovers or family, than friends. Who do I call at 4am when I am panicking that I am never going to feel better again? Who is going to just hold me and let me cry all night? No one. I am usually pretty used to going through this life alone, but today I just am feeling really ... sad.

All I needed from them is to say that they were sorry I sat in my apartment for 3 days unable to breathe. All I needed was a fucking verbal hug and the permission to feel sorry for myself. Apparently I am not fucking allowed to do that. Apparently it is all about them, and my little 'cold' is not important.

Sorry. I have gone and upset myself again. I can't cry and type, ya'll. It's too messy. I just really needed to get this off my chest. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day, though at this point I doubt it.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

I have the eye of the tiger, Lord!

I am feeling a bit better, ya'll. Thank you for all the love.

What I officially ended up being diagnosed with, is something called Pleurisy. You can click the link for more information. I would not wish this shit on my worst enemy, man. And I have a few enemies!! It was horrible, and kicked my ass for a good 4 days. I am still beat down, but not out.

I ended up calling my doctor Monday morning (I was in the ER Sunday at about 1am) because every time you visit the ER they recommend you follow up with your own doctor within a certain amount of days. So I called and they were going to have me see her on FRIDAY!! Well, I had woken up at around 6am that morning and could barely breathe. But I was not in the mood to argue, you know?

Later that day I had a really bad episode where I got super nauseous and had a sudden fever -- sweating like crazy. I was in more pain than when I went to the ER. I just wanted to die. I called back in tears and they fit me in at around 3:15. It took me a good 45 minutes to get out of the apartment and drive the 5 minutes to get there and get inside, because I could only walk in like super-slowmotion.

Anyway, long story short she gave me Prednisone for the infection and Codine for the pain. I can actually breathe now!! I am still a little sore, but I could finally get some sleep all drugged up. I am so glad I didn't wait until Friday to see her, I was in so much damn pain. It was worse than when I had surgery!

I should be back to work on Thursday. I never thought I would say it, but I will be glad to be back. To all my co-workers who read this, I am truly sorry about all the call-offs. I know how much it fucks things up for everyone. Maybe I could have come in and just worked cashwrap, but even talking for a few minutes irritated my lungs, and until Monday I wasn't sure if I was contagious (which I wasn't). Despite the facade, I really don't want to see people hurting either. Plus, it hurt so much to move and drive I was worried about traveling. I am sure you understand that I just could not do it, but I still feel awful.

It is kind of hard to describe, but the one thing I got out of this whole situation is how I can be aggressive when I want to. I could have ignored the pain, but didn't and went to the ER. I could have let them shrug me off as being to young to have anything wrong with me, but I didn't (and to be honest they did not treat me that way at all). I could have kept my doctor appointment for Friday and let myself suffer all that time, but I didn't. All and all I was proud of myself for taking care of myself. I don't usually take care of myself very well. I am not proud that I didn't ask for any help from anyone, but what the fuck do you people want? I can only fix one hang-up at a time, okay?

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the e-mail's and cards! It is so nice to know how much people care about me!

Sunday, September 17, 2006

never gonna get me alive!

Yeah. Soooo.... I am sitting here at 6:10am waiting to call work so that I can tell them I can not come in today.

Why? I guess Prince's sexiness was too much for me. Let me start from the beginning.

I was spending time with some good friends last night (Saturday night) watching Purple Rain. Towards the end of the night my chest was bothering me. It hurt to breathe in and cough.

I didn't want to mention it, and I have had chest pains in the past that I foolishly ignored. So I just ignored the pain and had fun. I got home at around 12am. By 1am I had enough of the pain. It got worse and when I tried to lay down, I was in serious pain and had shortness of breath.

Off I go to the Emergency Room. Yes, I can hear you all right now. Why didn't I call someone? I don't know. I didn't want to be a bother I guess. Anyway, I tried to convince myself it was nothing and drove myself (got verbally spanked by the doctor for it too). I couldn't take the pain and since I had chest pains before, I figured that enough was enough.

They ran an EKG on me, did some bloodwork, put me on a heart monitor and pulse-checker-thingie. They also did a CAT scan of my chest. The doctor didn't feel that it was my heart that was the problem since it hurts to breathe. He was thinking more along the lines of a bloodclot in my lungs somewhere. if I didn't have enough to worry about.

5 hours later the doctor tells me that (thank goodness) the CAT scan looked alright. My lungs and heart are still there and doing well. He was concerned about my heart beat. Just from looking at the monitor it ran from 100-150+ (and I am assuming that is per minute). The term he used was "racing". He didn't seemed too concerned -- probably thought I was just anxious. Which I guess I was. However, I was also really damn tired. Like, so tired that I really didn't care if I died at that point, because at least then I could get some sleep. So tired, that I got lost coming home. I live a good 5 minutes from the hospital.

He diagnosed me with "Pluerisy" which is a viral illness that irritates the lining around the lungs. It can cause chest pain when breathing in or cough, and the symptoms come on suddenly. It is more or less a blanket diagnonsense. "Since you don't seem to be dying, you must have an infection"-type of problem. I have to take anti-inflammatories (ie: really strong aspirin) and make an appointment with the family doctor.

Apparently Ron really is trying to kill me, and not just fantasizing about it...

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Like a flame going out...

(I did not write these things, but I feel they represent my feelings very well)

September 11, 2006, will soon be approaching. On this day, please wear red, white and blue to work or school to show your support for those who lost their lives on 9~11~01 and to honor the heroes who worked to save them and the famil ies le ft behind.

At noon your time on September 11, 2006, no matter where you are or what you are doing, stop, put your hand on your heart, and say the Pledge of Allegiance out loud or to yourself and say a prayer for our nation.

In addition, for those of us who drive to work, please drive with your headlights on to also give honor and remembrance to those who perished on September 11th.

If all of us do this together in every time zone round the world, we will have a powerful chain of thoughts surrounding us.

5 years ago.....
A brother lost a sister
A father lost a son
A daughter lost a mother
A neice lost an uncle
A mother lost her only child
A dog lost its master
A wife lost her husband
A granddaughter lost her papa
A best friend lost a friend
A mother and daughter lost each other at the same time

Flight 93
The Pentagon
World Trade Center 1
World Trade Center 2
Flight 11
Flight 175
Flight 77

God gained 2,973 angels on September 11th, 2001

We Remember...... and will never forget.

A gift to my readers!

I found this picture of myself while going through some old photo albums and I thought you would just love it. It was taken in 198-something or other. I was in middle school (5th grade-8th grade) and we were going on a school trip to ...Somewhere. Don't you love all the details I have?

Let's discuss this picture, shall we?

-My hair: Styled in the ever popular "spiral perm." This involved taking a strand of hair, twisting it, and then wrapping it around a curler, soaking your head in the horrific (and I believe brain damaging) permanent solution, and sitting for an hour until your scalp burns.

-My Glasses: Blue...and plastic...and ... HUGE

-My Neaklace: A plastic peace sign. One of many I owned. Someone could have mistaken me for an international UN ambassador with all the peace sign necklaces I wore. It was very popular among the rap-artists that I so deeply connected with.

-The T-Shirt: New Kids on the Block. Need I say more? Oh wait, tucked in. Why in the hell did I tuck it in?? Fat chicks should never ever tuck.

-The Sweater: It had shoulder pads. Who the fuck had the bright idea for shoulder pads? I have the shoulders of Maurice Clarett, I did NOT need shoulder pads. If anything, I should have shoved them in my bra.

-The Waist Down: I know for a fact these are jean shorts. Jean shorts are not necessary. Ever. But the most important thing to mention here is the zipper. Let's face it bitches, I was NEVER that thin. No, I laid flat on the bed and with both hands, I grunted and groaned until I got that zipper up over my ever-growing pouch of fat. God bless that zipper. I don't know how it didn't just implode upon itself and launch little pieces of metal into the foreheads of my classmates.

-The Rest: I don't think I would be far off if I guessed I was wearing sneakers, with anywhere from 2-3 pairs of socks. Socks of various colors. "Scrunched" down on top of one another so that my ankles looked like some sort of demented candy cane. I am sure my legs were shaved. Poorly. With small patches of missed hair and lots of nicks. It was probably the first time that summer I even bothered to shave.

Ah! A bad acid trip down memory lane. Isn't it beautiful? I hope you all got a good laugh out of my humiliation. Do you see what I do for you people??!!

Here is to the good 'ole days, to NKOTB, and to zippers made in Malaysia. I salute you my fellow friends who survived the 1980's. Fellow friends who tried, but could not avoid the camera for all 10 years. I salute you, not like I usually do with a friendly middle finger. No, I salute you like I did in that picture, with the obligatory peace sign.

I need a date, part II.

As everyone can gather, I have been in a funk lately. I just can not figure out what to do with my life and where I want to go with things. It is really frustrating and heartbreaking.

A dear friend suggested I get my Tarot Cards read, and I just might do that. However, I have also been thinking of finding a life coach. Life Coaches are people who help you figure out what you want to do with your life and how to get there. It seems like a perfect match.

I researched it and found this place online that I know I have driven past a million times. I often wondered what The Center on High was. Now I know. It is sort of a New Age doctor's office. They apparently offer Aromatherapy, Reiki, Spiritual Counseling, Hypnotherapy, Chiropractic care, Yoga, Massage Therapy, Reflexology, Acupuncture, and ...LIFE COACHING!

So, this is where I need you lovely bitches. Every First Saturday of the month they have an open house. I think it coincides with the Short North Gallery Hop. Anyway, from 11am-5pm they offer demonstrations, meet and greet with the staff, and free refreshments.

I really want to go, but I don't want to go by myself. Anyone up for a New-Age-good time? There are free refreshments in it for you. And who knows, I may even let you feel me up a little!

Friday, September 08, 2006

Stewie's banjo band


Monday, September 04, 2006

A poll.

If I created a BBBNBabe store, would you buy anything?
Hell to the NO!
Only if you gave me something in return. Wink! Wink!
Maybe...if you offered thongs.
Sure, I have tons of disposable income!
I don't know, depends on what you offer.
Free polls from


In case you live under a rock and haven't heard, the "Crocodile hunter" Steve Irwin has unfortunately passed away. Apparently he was filming a special on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia and was pierced in the chest by a stingray. The stingray stabbed his heart and he died almost instantly.

I don't know why, but I am saddened by this news. He was a young man with two young children. That alone is tragic.

however, I am consoled to think that much like the grizzly bear activist Timothy Treadwell , Irwin died doing what he loved and with animals that he so dearly cared for. I highly respect people who have made it their life mission to speak for those who can not speak for themselves. Although a little goofy, Steve Irwin was a man who spent his life caring for animals, rescuing them, and educating the public about them.

I remember the episode where one of his beloved "crocs" died of natural causes. Steve cried with grief both freely and unapologetically in front of the ever present cameras. Clearly his compassion and passion was true. I only pray that his dream and hard work is carried on by not only his staff, but also his growing children and loving wife.


(for more information, visit the link below)
MSN - News - 'Crocodile Hunter' Steve Irwin Dies at 44