this thing is still about things

Photo Dump: Decrepit Old Lady Edition


I haven’t been posting and now I feel totally shitty.  Coincidence?  I THINK NOT.  I have the cruds today and I’m not getting out of bed.


1.) This is an old picture, but it was my attempt a month ago or so to make a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pancake.  I got the mutant part down.  I need a better squeeze bottle if I’m going to do this again and not traumatize my children.

My sweatshirt is orange.  Click to embiggen!

2.)  I have been having too much fun with NPC Comic.  It amuses me much!

I done got my hair did.

3.) As per my ChÜberlist: 2014 I was going to donate my hair but upon closer inspection, I actually didn’t have long hair, but a very elaborate network of straw, grass, tumbleweed, and a tiny nest of baby birds.  In other words, previous hair dyeing and general neglect made me decide that my hair wasn’t donation-worthy.  So I’m now 10 inches lighter and all the unhealthy garbage is gone.  Maybe next time.  *big fail sigh*

So…this is my life now.

Or more appropriately, Wendy’s sad life.

4.) I’m going to be selfish for a minute and say I never wanted a dog with so many fucking problems.  So many expensive fucking problems.  Fingers crossed that this is only a bladder infection and her constant leaking all over the couch/ottoman/chair is done with.  $45 vet check and medication, $30 dog diapers WTF, $230 to clean and sanitize the furniture.  Laundry every day.  And let’s remember that we still need a $200 blood test in a few weeks.  Let me be clear:  I love my dog.  She’s loyal and loving and funny and sweet.  She just has so many problems right now.  And frankly, I can’t take another pet death.  I’m fucking traumatized and it’s just too painful.

Bite my terrified metal ass.

5.) I’m going to the doctor next week.  I get cruds that don’t go away, I have a knee that won’t work and then there’s everything else that’s wrong with me.  I hate going to doctors and dentists because I’ve had some terrible ones.  Terribly unprofessional ones.  But seeing as I’m rapidly aging and I spend more money on the dog going to the vet than I do on my own health, I should go. It would be great if I had some anti-anxiety meds left, but for that I need to go to a fucking doctor. Bad catch-22.  And I don’t like setting a bad example for my kids.  And I probably want to live and all that.  


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