Still Alive

Yes, I am still alive. Sorry for no new posts. I am living in a kazoo right now. I will explain later if you do not know what this means. New posts coming soon! Don't be sad! Cake is coming soon.

Saving My Dead Dog

Recently my life has been turned upside down by one sweet and loving lemon of a dog named Daisy.

Me with my new upside down life style

Let me give you an idea what it has been like taking care of Daisy over the last 6 months:

Imagine you are leisurely jogging down a track. You have decided to run exactly 6 miles today. Your not the most coordinated jogger so you fall a few times but you quickly get up, brush it off, and continue on. When you finally get close to the end of your 6 mile run, you start to sprint for the finish line.

You made it to the finish line!   ....or did you?

<Insert Dramatic Sound Effect Here>

Just as you try to slow down, you realize you can't stop running. You look down at your feet and become aware that you are actually running on a massive treadmill track. The treadmill starts going faster and forces you to keep up the pace. You look behind you and realize a giant cookie monster is eating the track that you just finished running on.

"CRAP! Why did I wear my chocolate chip cookie track suit today?!?"

So now its a matter of life or death by cookie monster. You decide to keep running even though you and your body are exhausted. The track keeps going faster. Every time you start to get farther away from cookie monster, you stumble and your hip gives out-- or you slip in a pile of diarrhea-- or a chipped tooth comes out of nowhere and scratches you across the face. Each time you fall, an invisible entity helps you get back on your feet. This invisible force dusts you off and helps ensure you keep going and going and going....

Note: You have a suspicion that the invisible force is actually the energizer bunny.

And how does this horribly bad symbolic story end? I have no clue. The real-life story hasn't yet ended. Daisy is still running on that treadmill known as life and trying her damned hardest to keep from falling again. Will Daisy live to run another mile or will she eventually be gobbled up by cookie monster who has mistaken her for a chocolate chip cookie?

Only time will tell. One thing I do know though is that all animals, not just cats, have 9 lives...if you are willing to cough up $8,000.

And kudos to Dave for giving me the idea to write about this. I am not really sure what kudos are (it sounds like the name of a fire-breathing dragon) but either way he can have it.

Kudos for Dave!

Yes, I have puked in a cop car.

I never win anything.

With the exception of when I was in the 6th grade and I won a drawing to go to a Charlotte Hornets Basketball game with Officer Griffin, my D.A.R.E officer.

Me and two other girls even got to ride to the basketball game in Officer Griffin's police car.

Weeeeeeeee!!!!!!

We got to the basketball game and the first thing I noticed was:

then

and then

Not to mention

And don't forget:

I am incredibly skinny so everyone assumes I need to eat more junk food. My sweet and patient D.A.R.E officer bought every single one of these items and I happily scarfed it all down. Besides, how could he tell the tiny, feeble girl that she couldn't have more to eat? That might be considered child abuse!

When the game was over, we had almost made it back to the police car when I realized I had left my purse in the stadium! Officer Griffin and I sprinted all the way back into the stadium and found my purse still sitting in my seat. Whew! Then, for some stupid reason, we decided it would be a good idea to sprint back to the police car.

YAY RUNNING!

We made it back to the car and started the 20 minute drive home. I was sitting in the backseat with the other two girls when I started feeling sick.

Me: "Um, Officer Griffin, I don't feel so good"

Officer Griffin: "Uhhhhhh--let me roll down the window for you. What doesn't feel good?"

Me: "My stomach. I think I might pu...."

The girl siting beside me screamed bloody murder which only made me spew more.  I painted the back seat, myself, the window, and the side of the car with my technicolor yawn.

That's when officer Griffin turned the police siren on. Had I not been busy covering his car in regurgitated junk food while simultaneously covering my ears from the high pitched screaming, I might have thought it was really cool.

Officer Griffin pulled the police car over on the side of the highway, got out, opened my door, and ripped me out of the car by my arm. He was MAD.

I, naturally, was in tears. The two girls with me were still in the car shrieking because they couldn't get out of the car without crawling over my vomit.

Officer Griffin: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU EAT SO MUCH?!?"

Me: "WHY THE HELL DID YOU FEED ME SO......"

(Historical Reenactment)

As I started expelling more chunks, Officer Griffin walked away from me clinching his fist. I really thought he might kill me. Murdered by a D.A.R.E. officer while heaving cotton candy all over highway 85. That was my fate.

I can only imagine what this must have looked like to all the cars driving down the highway. The police lights were on so a pretty good traffic jam had started from nosy drivers trying to see what all the fuss was about. I'm sure all the onlookers thought I was a drunk 12 year old. Society had already given up on me and I was doomed to a life of drugs and drinking. It's a good thing that Officer Griffin had taken me under his wing and tried to get me back track.

Good for you Officer Griffin. Good for you.

At some point I remember someone coming over the police radio to ask Office Griffin if he needed back up. You could tell the person on the other end of the radio was desperately trying not to laugh. This was probably the most action that Officer Griffin had seen in years considering all he normally did was drive around the elementary school blaring the theme for "Cops" from loudspeaker.

After finally upchucking the last of the cotton candy, hot dogs, soda, nachos, and popcorn out of my system, Officer Griffin cleaned me up to the best of his ability while I stood there shivering and occasionally dry heaving. We had no paper towels so he used some papers he had in the trunk to wipe me off. I like to imagine that these papers were police reports and he would now have to turn them in covered in chunks of my spew.  

It sure does beat "The police dog ate my report" excuse

Officer Griffin helped the two other girls over my vomit, calmed them down, and stuck both of them in the passenger seat beside him. At least I had been kind enough not to yurp on them, right?

Then he sat me down in a pile of my puke in the backseat. He said I had to sit by the window and the seat on the opposite window was now filled with the pukey police reports. Sure, he could have moved the police reports and let me sit on the side of the car without vomit but I'm sure he got some sort of smug satisfaction in watching me sit in a heap of my own yack.

We drove the rest of the way back to the school with the siren and police lights on. I sat in the back shaking and praying that I wouldn't throw up again. It's really hard not to hurl when you are sitting in a big pile of it.

I pretended to have the stomach flu for the next 3 days so I didn't have to return to school. The stomach flu was also a great excuse as to why I would have puked in the first place. Too bad no one believed me. I think my mom felt embarrassed to have such an idiot for a daughter and so she allowed me to stay home for her own reputation.

I did the exact same thing when a friend invited me to a baseball game a few weeks later. I think her dad spent the same amount on feeding me as he did on the tickets themselves. Then he spent double that getting his car detailed. I was never invited to go to another sports game again.

And that, my friends, is the story of me puking in a cop car.