Little Thoughts

All This and My Ass Hurts, Too

Actually, my ass always hurts. Kinda has been the state of things since we moved (or a little before we moved) two years ago. It’s totally coincidental. I didn’t hurt my ass while moving, although I thought I must be perpetuating the hurt as I did things like paint the shit brown walls in the bedroom not shit brown… and then all the other walls. And it looks like I painted them with a pained ass, too. But it still looks better than it did and I got less paint on the floors and on random weird bits of trim. Whoever it was that painted the stairway last… they must have been high as kites when taping shit off. Good god almighty. This was but just one of the bizarre sort of things (also, the caulk. You can not use putty as a substitute for wood, and you can’t sculpt with it, and also you can’t use caulk as a substitute for putty that you’re substituting for wood that you are planning on sculpting an inch or… two… or three and a quarter… to hide (ahem) the fact you measured the trim wrong. Because you hid nothing. Nothing.)

So my ass hurts, generally, plus there are those other sorts of pains in the ass. One today happens to be WordPress, I think. Or else it is Lightroom. My last version of Lightroom I used was like… 4 or something… and it was a standalone CD install. This version is the sell your soul to Adobe cloud model and I have feelings about that, I tell you what, but I do indeed love the living shit out of Lightroom. So I think I might have exported a file with some kind of copyright or watermark or whatever and WordPress is just losing its shit about uploading. (Yes, previous photos were in fact done on an older Lightroom version).

Yesterday, our collective ass pain was Walt. Walter kept… having seizures. Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand completely it was way more of a pain in his little ass… but we were worried so we brought him to the emergency vet. Our vet is supposed to see him next week anyway but they couldn’t get him in for blood work or anything, and Paul thought he might be hurting and I wasn’t loving that we had what would have been a year’s worth of seizures in less than a day, so we brought him to the dog ER. He’s okay. He has epilepsy, and now he has an anticonvulsant, and they say the sleepiness wears off as he gets used to the pill, but I think half of his problem was he was tired after the first seizure and trying to work past it with his extra vigilance switch toggled on, and he kept cycling himself into more seizures, which then caused more muscle twitches and spasms, and then he became more vigilant because… I mean, someone was stealing into his head and shaking his hamster off the wheel. So he’s a sleepy boy, but I think that’s probably doing a lot to help him at the moment too.

We’re all limping along, but we’ve been doing that here. I guess on the upside it has made the whole pandemic thing easier. Honestly, while I know the world is forever changed, obviously, the biggest thing for me is remembering to have the mask on walks and getting over the fact that while I will never miss shopping, I do miss the idea of just being able to. If the all clear was given and was actually, you know, for real, not just something the piece of shit that is stinking up the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office said was true because he doesn’t care who lives or dies… but if the all clear rang out for real and it was totally fine to just go to the mall, you know I would rather self immolate than go there.

The fucking mall. Please. Or a water park. Let me go splash around in a park full of screaming kids, sunburned grandparents and a lazy river attraction that is 1% employee sadness and 99% urine. But my feelings on water parks and whatnot might be better handled some other day.

Intentionally Paving the Road to Hell Little Thoughts

Resistant is Futile

I know, that’s not the saying, right? Hear me out…

Being resistant to something is not a guarantee. I think the only exception to this is… remember the old Saturn sedans? Like many people of a certain age, this was the first new car Paul and I bought. It was the first car we owned that had automatic windows and air conditioning. It was a hassle free car to purchase, and honestly, aside from the alternator being an asshole under warranty, it was a decent car and lasted a good long time. It was also marketed as dent resistant.

And it was. We got smacked by many, many shopping carts with no ill effects. You could touch it up with a hunter green sharpie, for fuck’s sake. But no dents. However, if someone hit it with any force, like backing out of a driveway at low speed with your van, distracted as fuck, and you whack the opened door… not only does the door come off, it would crack into fifty million shards of that shit they found at Roswell.

No dents.

I have a carbon fiber weather resistant camera body. Volcanic sand will blow in there, it will fuck things up, and you will be grateful because you got to see this:

And resistant doesn’t mean it won’t work afterwards. It means you will learn to compensate and work around that little bit of fuckery that will not come off the optical viewfinder.

A deer came through yesterday and ate all our hostas, the bastard. But deer like those a lot, and I like deer, and I don’t really give a shit. Then he decided, “Ah, what the fuck, I’m going to go for these stonecrops and sedums and shit…” and the little bastard took a bite out of every one, and then actually immediately spit half of them out. Because there is a pandemic and I don’t want to put garden center workers at risk over a goddamn rock garden plant, I’ve gotten most of my sedum and stonecrops through the mail, through splitting the plants that are already in the yard, and through theft. (I steal them out of retaining walls by the sidewalk that they root in and I say it’s a public service, because it isn’t like that isn’t destructive, right? I have become the whitest lady ever. Jesus Fuckballs Christ. Walking my pug, stealing sedums out of your retaining wall…) Sedum and stonecrop are pretty damn deer resistant. It means they bite them and then spit them out.

Obviously, a slippery word is resistant. I suppose it is because it doesn’t mean impervious. (Think about impervious… is that like, unable to pervert? Whoa. I oughtta look the etymology up on that motherfucker.)

Being resistant to change doesn’t mean unable to change. It isn’t impervious to change. It just means someone likes to spit change back a few times before it begins to be entertained as a possibility. I think maybe that’s a decent thing to keep in mind.

My plants are fucked, though.

Intentionally Paving the Road to Hell Little Thoughts

All Bed Sides Are Wrong

I had something else I was going to say today, and if I manage to remember what exactly it was, maybe I’ll start to put it down. Our oldest pug, Walt, has seizures. Not horrible ones, like our first peke, Monster, did… they’re subtle as they happen, but they result in his clearly not being able to get his feet under him for a bit. And he doesn’t fully check out for these seizures… and he never looks fully checked in anyway,  if you know what I mean. He has them maybe twice a year, once every eight months… they aren’t frequent and he’s old enough yet still new enough to us that the vet agrees that this is probably just a thing that happens and uncovering more will… uncover more and cause unnecessary pain, suffering and stress (sort of like why the doctors and I have laid off on shit with me. Something weird and definitely not good is happening, but it is taking its sweet ass time doing anything actionable aside from making me miserable, so why do more miserable tests?)

Anyway, poor little shit had a seizure this morning, as evidenced by his not running down stairs and Tokyo Drifting his little ass into the kitchen for his eye drops. He’s fine now, relatively speaking. He is eating and drinking (well, and pooping and peeing because seizure). He is unnecessarily going up and down the stairs because FOMO. He isn’t quite being the in your face pain in the ass to Bruce that he has been the past few days, and I am wondering if that is part of the pattern. Bruce is being really good about it all. And Dee is like a little rock. Honestly, for a dog that had… at best… clueless owners in her past life, it seems that once they did the obvious damage (a shock collar for bark control on too tight, too high a setting… burned her hair off her chest permanently and her little voice is… certainly something to hear…) they seem to have just let doggy day care deal with her a lot. And actually, it wasn’t the worst thing. She’s really rock solid in a lot of extenuating circumstances and understands how to be a dog.

It seems that this event has thrown off my game more than the pups though. I guess that’s good, because it’s easier to get my ass together when I don’t have a screaming nuclear pug melt down going on too.

Yep, whatever I had been planning on saying is gone. Fuck it. Sorry.

Little Thoughts

If I Had a Daughter

I would tell her that one day, you will find a couple seventeen inch hairs growing off your chin, and it’s okay. You’re not turning into a goat, and anyway… Goats are cool, they’re like extra smart, pointy dogs. Anyone who says otherwise can kindly fuck off.

And that’s why I have no children. The three pugs close as it gets. I would imagine children shed less than pugs, and if I tell Dee that she has chin hairs she’s kinda like “Uh. No shit.”


Little Thoughts

Forming the Habit

So, new laptop, and there’s this ephemeral message notification pop up and Jesus FUCK is that thing irritating. Thanks for telling me about the spam email trying to sell N95 masks for my pugs, motherfuckers.

We had to take one of the pugs to the doggy psychologist. I’m 87% sure the issue between Bruce (the murderpug) and Walter is my fault. Keeping records of the worst periods was helpful. The problem is that I can’t get involved in their fights as I make it worse sometimes even before they get real nasty. And I mean… it sounds funny, but it is fucking horrifying. There is blood and the potential for eye loss and in one case leg amputation (I think the vet was driving the point home that the fight going so far was abnormal. And dog mouths are gross.) At any rate, they are doing a lot better now.  We put Walter on an anti anxiety medication (because he was also part of the problem) and so he’s way less obsessive than he was, which kinda helped Bruce turn down the murderpug level.

Yeah, so anyway, all that lead up to say Bruce has a muzzle and a pug in a muzzle looks like he is in a luchadore mask or dressed like Hannibal Lechter. I prefer luchadore. He is a lovely little dog but we don’t know exactly where he came from and he’s pretty intense and hard to read.

Nothing deep here at the moment. Just trying to reacquaint myself with the notion of doing this on a daily basis or thereabouts. A more responsive, less massive laptop and/or a larger tablet with a keyboard is helpful in getting the job done. I have a lot of shit to say of probably relatively mild interest, but I never really got past the “instead of composing in my head I should just turn on the fucking computer and go write it” and truthfully, the tablet got manky and tablet keyboards are a massive pain in the ass.

You can be pretty sure I am not blogging from the toilet. Pretty sure.

Big Thoughts Intentionally Paving the Road to Hell

Well, this is awkward

You know, I tried to pick up blogging again a few months ago and then some unspeakable shit happened on the host account and it all disappeared, which is dumb and I sure hope the hackers have a fuckton of fun with my incoherent ramblings and some stuff Paul had up (which was arguably more useful, but not to whoever busted in and caused mayhem. It would have been useful to not just blink out of existence. I guess the upside is no one got hurt by it and I just swore a lot, so I guess it was mainly like, ‘Hey, it’s Tuesday.’ At least with the swearing.)

Some part of me is paranoid that a similar incident will happen again, but truthfully, probably it won’t because the whole incident was just… dumb. At the very least, if you’re trying to stick some kind of malicious thing on a server, you shouldn’t make it so obvious that it’s there by… removing everything else?  Truth is, I didn’t want to think on it too hard because it just pissed me off, and my old laptop was giving me the heebie jeebies. (I have a new laptop. A new to me laptop. You don’t know this though because you can’t see me and also probably don’t know what my previous iterations of laptop looked like. It had wind turbines for fans and worked reasonably well, but at eight years old… We have neighbors with kids who are half its age.)

So I don’t feel quite as heebie jeebieieie, and I went through and made sure the evil was off the web host as much as the host allows such things, which isn’t much, but right now it’s paid for for a while so I’m going to shut up and back away slowly before I say too much.

A lot has changed, which was the upshot of the half started but not really re-start. I didn’t have a new laptop then. That’s new new. But I am in a different house in a nearby city than I was the, uh, eight years ago I last blogged anything. I still suck, so that’s the same. We’ve had some doggy and people turnover in our lives, which is both to be expected because time is a giant motherfucking asshole and also still really sucks.

I don’t want to end on a note of the sad, because you know, pandemic and a fucking madman running the country at the moment (or not running. Ruining. Ruining it.)… so I guess… Our new yard has deer in it, and the house has minisplit ductless air conditioning and I wonder why the hell I didn’t have ductless air conditioning in my life sooner because I would have been a lot less existentially dready about summer in that case.


Testing as to why this is being such a douchebonnet

Because last I checked (which was arguably like seven thousand years ago) this wasn’t supposed to raise my blood pressure this much.