Way to stick it to the man!

So ok, every now and then something ridiculous happens at work and I just can’t wait to get home and blog about it. This past week one suh event transpired.

Everyone who has a job has a certain kind of dress code they have to follow. Now that the weather is warming up there is this urge to push the boundaries and se how far you can take things. A male coworker decided to do exactly that and came to work in shorts. Because shorts are not allowed he was sent home to change. Now I’m sure he was a little irritated…maybe even pissed off. The next day he comes to work…not in another pair of shorts…IN A SKIRT!!


Now I had read an article about a guy who had filed lawsuit cause his job wouldn’t let him wear a skirt. He said he felt they were more comfortable. The guy at work’s excuse: skirts ARE part of the dress code!!

Well, he was right that skirts were part of the dress code!

I will be inquiring Monday to see what became of him.

Mama Mia!

So, last Tuesday, I blogged about having to take my Yorkie into the vet to get spayed, and since then, I’ve received GREAT news.

I won’t have to pay to get her babies aborted. YAY! My grandmother’s friend breeds Yorkies, and has offered to take care of Mia just before she gives birth, and the weeks after that.  Stones offered the same, and I’m incredibly thankful for that, but I didn’t want to put any more of a burden on her as her life is already hectic enough. I will be able to visit Mia while my Grandma’s friend is taking care of her, and I’ll be able to bring her home once the puppies are old enough to be without her.  Let’s just hope I don’t get myself attached to any of them.


So, my one and half year old Yorkie, Mia, is pregnant.

Before I go on explaining how stressed out I am about this, I would just like to say, SHE IS A DAMN HUSSY.

I haven’t been able to get her fixed yet because of financial obligations, and now that she’s all knocked up, I wish I had spent the money on that instead of buying music. Anyways, so my grandmother’s Yorkie, Toby, corrupted her innocence, and got the broad pregnant. How rude, right? I mean, because seriously, Mia was an ANGEL. Like me. (Shut up, you know I’m an angel. These horns growing out of my head? Purely a fashion statement.)

I called Mia’s vet and set up an appointment for this Thursday, so I can have her spayed. Which also means that they are going to abort the babies. I feel so shitty because of it. The thing is, I can’t handle a litter of puppies right now. I would love to be able to have Mia stay pregnant, so she can shoot little Yorkies out of her no-no place, and I’ve thought about giving the puppies away or selling them once they’re born, but I’ve read up on it, and my anxiety will not be able to handle that. I would have to keep the babies for at least 4 weeks before I can give them away. There is NO fucking way in hell that I would be able to do this. The stress from Jasta (my 2 year old Yorkie) and Mia already makes me lose all coolness sometimes. Imagine having a litter? No thanks.

I’ve cried over this a couple of times because the idea of having to abort her pups just … kills me. It’s not something I’m prepared to deal with, though.

Does this make me a bad mommy?

*cries. again.*

It didn’t suck and then we cried

Written by stones (gray text) and visceral (black text).

“I heartily salute you and your robotically adjustable vagina.” ~ dooce


On March 31, 2009, Visceral and I attended a book reading by the incredibly funny Heather B. Armstrong. Better known as the blog author, Dooce. The experience makes it to the top of my list of favorite events I’ve attended. It may or may not have anything to do with the fact that if I were a lesbian, I’d totally have sexual relations with that woman. Yes, I inhaled.

When Stones first introduced me to dooce.com, I immediately subscribed to her feed, and impatiently waited everyday to see a new entry, or a new picture on her no-holds-barred blog. I must admit to you that I’ve allowed Heather Armstrong to steal my soul. More than once. The daily conversations between Stones and I (online and through various text messages) included little mentions about the blog, and how awesome she made everything sound. This is borderline fangirl. Okay, I lied. We’re total fangirls, and proud of it!

When I first read about her book tour back in January, I almost jumped out of my seat and screamed. She was coming to Seattle and there was NO WAY IN HELL we were going to miss it. I just had to meet the woman who takes pictures of her dog with various objects displayed on his head (including, but not limited to, a bra, spaghetti, and a positive home pregnancy test), and then posts them online for the whole word to see. I wish my cats were as obedient so I can make mad cash off of them too. Ungrateful little shits.

Dooce read some entries from her recently released book titled It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita and let me tell you, I wanted to cry. Laughing that hard hurts, okay! I mean, watch the videos from the reading and tell me you didn’t feel like you were about to crack a rib.

During the reading of that book, it was hard to control the urgency to get out of my seat, walk up on stage, press my face to her pregnant belly, and tell her unborn child that her mama was the funniest person in the world at that moment. She poked fun at herself in such a manner that only made me want to be her bff, and let me tell you, IF I COULD, I’D SHOW UP AT HER DOOR WITH A BOX OF CHOCOLATES. Stones and I weren’t the only ones mentally preparing themselves to do just that, either. The crowd was so diverse. Young, and old. Men, and women. Random people asking other fangirls, “So, why is everyone here? Who’s going to be on stage?”


Dooce, you guys! Heather B. Armstrong. LADY EXTRAORDINAIRE.

What I love most is her honesty, humble attitude, and terrific expressions while she was up on stage. As she stood up there in front of (I’m guessing) at least a couple hundred people telling a story about her vagina and reconvening “The Procedure”, I thought about how lucky I was to be able to meet this woman in person. Even if it was just for a couple minutes while she signed two of my books and I stood there like a bumbling idiot.

I was too busy trying desperately to not rub her pregnant belly (which she hates) and lick her face (which she may or may not have actually liked). When it was all over, I was elated.

Being a single girl, with no children, Heather shed some light (with a few loose wires) for me on the whole idea of marriage, and raising a family. Although, there was a passage in her book that completely freaked me the hell out:

For nine months I grew a human being inside my belly and then pushed it out my vagina. Afterward I fed it with my boob. Biology is so fucking weird.

Now, I know it’s crazy to think I can relate to someone who’s had a kid, and is now pregnant again because I’ve never been pregnant, but I’ve done my share of helping to raise babies, and a lot of my friends have kids. I know a little bit of what it’s like to have to wake up 5 minutes after you’ve JUST fallen asleep to take care of a screaming poop machine.. I know what it feels like to have a 4 month-old make you want to gouge your own eyes out because you just can’t figure out what the baby WANTS. I’m not saying that I know EXACTLY what it’s like to have a child of your own, and I’m nowhere near prepared (mentally OR physically) to start a family, but I’d like to think I kind of know what’s to be expected. Keywords: “like to think”, which is just a connotation for, I have no idea what to fucking expect.

That passage alone curled my toes in an effort to somehow not get pregnant at that very moment just by reading her book. I may have to tell my parents that my brother might have to provide them with grandchildren until I get through this book without running to a doctor, forcing him to tie my tubes, or prescribe me some stronger birth control pills.

Waiting in a line that curled around various bookshelves, Stones and I were still giddy with excitement that soon enough, we’d be THIS CLOSE to Heather.

It was a night out, and a much needed break from routine for both Stones, and myself. The fact that we were able to take a few hours, and spend them meticulously planning the kidnapping of someone we both like (and would totally marry if we could), made that night even better.