This is Why I don't Mess With Pussy

I love animals. LOVE them. In fact, for the past 8 months I have been working at an animal hospital loving on some fur balls and answering phones. Let's catch up.

• Getting a business loan is really hard when you are young and have nothing in your name even though you have amazing credit.
• Getting a normal job when you have Dr. in front of your name is really really really hard because people don't wanna pay you Dr. money.
• Working you ass off (literally...it's gone) at an animal hospital dealing with stupid people and answering phones is sometimes the only way for a person to get cash flow to start said potential business. 
• It is completely worth it to be ass-less when there you meet amazing people and you have a chiropractic office with your name on it. 

People bring in stray animals and or abandon animals on a regular basis in the veterinary world. Insert melancholy feelings here. One kitty cat named Miley was one that was abandoned and became our new resident. My new BFF Roxanne who works with me at said animal hospital needed a pet. After many talks about how her littles would love a kitty and how they are self sufficient, Roxanne decided to take Miley home. 

The first night Miley was overly excited about her new home. She was no longer stuck in kitty condo with short amounts of social interaction. She had a whole 2 bedroom apartment to roam. She then proceeded to do crazy kitty shit, like go into heat and roll the fuck around. 

Like this one

After attacking Kiwi once and letting her know who's house it was, Kiwi and I would come over on a regular basis to stay the night with no problems. We were all the best of friends. Finally it was time for that cat to stop her fucking whining and get her uterus removed. It is supposed to be an easy procedure, but we were told that she went bat shit crazy waking up from anesthesia...but most animals do act weird (as I have learned) when they wake up from Lala-land so Roxanne wasn't concerned especially when Miley was the most loving cat that we have EVER seen. 

I left for a weekend to go visit Molly and the baby and Kiwi stayed with Roxanne, her kids, and Miley. As far as I know everything went smoothly. When I got back, I took Kiwi back over to the apartment to hang out with my favorite new friend when Miley decided to lose her fucking marbles. 

Kiwi ran over to Miley's bowl, like she always does to eat left over cat food. When I went in to chastise her, Miley ran around the corner out of no where and started attacking my baby. That was fine, Kiwi shouldn't have ate her food, plus this has happened once before and it only lasted 5 seconds. Well, 5 seconds became 15 and my baby started crying and tried to run across the kitchen. Miley followed suit quickly to claw and bite her some more while I heard my fluff ball yell, "MOM! HEEEEELP!" I immediately went into mom mode and put my hand (stupid, stupid move) in the middle of the fight. I grabbed my baby and held her up to my chest trying to comfort her as the deranged cat came running after me. She chased me into the living room where she climbed up my right leg, scratching, and biting trying to get to my sweet puppy. I screamed in pain and fear simultaneously as Roxanne nervously kicked the cat off of me and threw her in her room.

Finally...a second to breathe. I looked at my hand and watched blood ooze from it. All of the sudden shit started hurting. MAN DOWN! This cat just fucked my world up! I look at Kiwi and see blood on her ears. Tears roll down my face because I failed her as a human parent. Roxanne who is completely frantic starts licking her hand and wiping Kiwi's ear to assure me that it isn't her blood. It was ALL mine. 

Roxanne is all, "Diamond, the dog is fine. What about you? What do I need to do? Do I need to take you to the doctor?"

Fuck that. I AM a doctor. I'm first responder certified. I can handle this shit....plus I don't have any insurance. As a mother of two, she was COMPLETELY ill-prepared for an emergency. Not even a single fucking band-aid. So I told her to take me to CVS.  (Wish I had pictures of the blood and gore, but pictures weren't on the top of the priority list at the time.) We drive to the first CVS...closed. Fuck, let's go to the other one. Next CVS...closed. MOTHER EFF!!!! Are there no 24-hr pharmacy stores in this town? Fuck it. We're going to Wal-mart.

I slowly get out of the car because the pain in my hand is so intense not to mention my scrub bottoms had started sticking to my leg wounds while the wind was howling that night. We walk in a B line (or an i line) to the pharmacy section of the store failing on every aisle to find what we need. I see a worker and ask, "where is the peroxide?" She gives me a once over, sees my bloody hand and points with a concerned face to the appropriate aisle. We dash over and Roxanne starts to quickly open boxes of gauze. She goes to apply it and I yell "Wait! We need peroxide first!" She puts the box down, looks around and finds a small bottle of equate brand peroxide and untwists the top. She pulls the sliver seal off with her teeth and pours the peroxide on my open wound and gauze. 

I squeal in pain as bystanders pass by the aisle wondering what the fuck we are doing as if it weren't a normal occurrence at the mart of Wal. I am jumping up and down waiting on the pain to subside while Roxanne is wide-eyed and ready for the next procedure. At the same time an older gentlemen tries to walk down the aisle we are hogging but decides to go around to get his deodorant when he sees peroxide and blood gauze on the floor. She applied a few pieces of gauze on the wound and started to wrap my hand with a self adhesive wrap. Finally with a closed wound the pain decreased as the ibuprofen I had previously taken before we left the house kicked in. We grab all the things we used including a little extra for my untreated leg to check out. We made light conversation with the cashier as she was concerned with the situation, and left giggling and ready for the next adventure. 

Pretty good for a 10pm Wal-mart run

We ran out of supplies

Good morning puncture wound

After I slept in the bandages this is what it looked like =)

At least I got pretty tape?!

These are 3 days later 

 NOW! 

No worries, I got a script for antibiotics as a precaution for cat scratch fever or any other nasty shit cats have (though I will never be able to wear shorts). Miley however, is without a home again, so if you or anyone else want a kitty cat her crazy ass is up for adoption...and this is why I don't mess with pussy.

It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas

When one of your best friends offers you a good time by putting up a Christmas tree and drinking wine you don't turn it down. I got out of my car at my fiancee's apartment complex to find pine needles leading me straight up to her apartment. Shaking my head, I knocked on the door. I walked in to find a huge 8ft tree in the corner of her living room placed where I had recommended. I still have no clue how her and her boyfriend got this tree up her stairs, but you will understand that in a minute.

I look over at her decorations and see an abundance of things on her counter including some deco mesh ribbon that I had never used before, but convincingly communicated would be easy to put up. Well, that was the first thing I was wrong about. That shit sucks. You twist it one way and it twists another and it doesn't wrap as easily as garland. The second thing I was wrong about was the placement of the tree in the living room. It was waaaaaay to close to the window. In theory, having a christmas tree next to a window is a fantastic suggestion, but when you have pesky cat and stupid irritating mesh to wrap, the notion is dull-witted.

How do people do this shit?

We pull the tree a few inches away from the window as to wrap the ribbon in a decorative fashion. I maneuver one arm into the tree trying to grab something solid as branches and pine needles continuously poke me in the face. I somehow get my other arm in while my love is on all fours grabbing the bottom of the tree. "One, two, three, PULL!" The tree moved 2 inches. Quickly exhausted from our tree pulling workout, the fiancee decides to just throw the ribbon around to me in the small space we created between the tree and the window. 

All the while, the cat is sitting in the window watching our shenanigans go down. I decide that the ribbon wrapping is horrendous and suggest googling how to do it when is see a beautiful tree on Pinterest. At this point my fiancee is completely over it and just wants the ribbon to hang straight down from the tip down. I look at her annoyed with her defeated attitude, tell her to proceed with her idea, step back from the tree and tell me if that remotely looks pretty. She concedes and allows me to study the picture to create the perfect tree. 

The inspiration tree

We finally get the ribbon right and decorate the tree...in the front. There was no room for us to reach the back of the tree so we instinctively decorate the side that everyone who walks in the house will see. Half way through, we start to admire our work. In the midst of our adoration the tree begins to fall. I run over and stick my arms back in that tree and almost poke my eye out with a branch of needles. We immediately blame the cat as he conveniently created a distance from the tree and himself during the plummet. 

We push the tree back up and think that the ornaments must be making the tree heavy on one side. After further inspection, we decide that the tree is being pulled by the lights that were being pulled taught against the wall. I hold the tree up and the fiancee goes to her closet for an extension cord. Boom, bam, pow. The girl almost loses her life from trying to get a box from the top of the closet. She brings the cord over and holds the tree while I unplug. TIIIIIIMBERRRRRRR! The only thing holding that tree up were the cords. Fuck. 

With my face itching I say:

We have to move the tree. 

Why?

Because it isn't going to stay here.

Right now? Where?

Yes. When else did you want to do it. Over there. *points across room*

The tree is heavy!

We can do it.

*sighs and thinks about the tree falling on her flat screen if it isn't moved* Ok.

With my brilliant plan in place we prepare the room for tree hauling. We take our positions with me getting pulling from the top and the fiancee pulling from the bottom. "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" We weren't even half way across the room. I reposition myself lower on the tree. "One, two, three, PULL!" "One, two, three, PULL!" At this point I scream in pain because a snowflake was impaling my ankle and my legs were wrapped in Christmas lights. My poor fiancee had red knees from carpet burn. A few more feet to go and we push that bad boy to its new home. 

There was water and needles all over the floor, glitter all over our bodies and ribbon in my love's hair. We let the tree go and lo and behold this pain in my ass tilts over. The most innovative and brilliant idea then enters the brain of my green-eyed friend and she scurries away to implement it while I once again, hold the tree. I see her with a biology book, she opens it half way and tells me to tilt the tree. I do as I am told, but alas, I am not strong enough to tilt it as far as she needs. She says more and I gain a wider stance and tilt some more. Unsatisfactory. I have to tilt some more. With the tree feeling like it is horizontal in my now itchy arms, she shoves her book under the stand. 

Finished product!

Finally. a tall steady tree! I step back and admire our work. I look over to the other pretty girl in the room and say, "You're gonna have to get some presents to cover that up." She laughs and replies, "I have a tree skirt." Our tree came out more than perfect and with all the work that went into it, it better have. We turned off the living room lights to enjoy the glow and poured big glasses of wine. We put up a my tree the next day. I've never appreciated my fake 6-foot tree so much. Fifteen minutes and we were done. I am already so over Christmas. 

Five Rambling Facts That My Facebook 'Friends' Don't Know About Me

I don't get into Facebook games. I quite frankly find them annoying, however, the things you may not know about me game was interesting. I actually learned some cool facts about people, but like I said, I don't do games on Facebook so I will play on this post.

Shit that no one cares to know, but out of sheer boredom you will read to find out anyway:

1. I once got paid $400 by Felix Jones to take a shot of something that knocked me on my ass until 5 O'clock the next afternoon. 
• It was his birthday and he said he would pay some girl $400 to take a shot. I looked around the room and realized I was the only one who went to college and accepted the challenge based on my experience in shot taking. After standing in line behind some women who immediately spit the unknown shot out, I was told that I should take a double shot. I confidently did so and don't remember anything else about that night except for the burn I felt in my chest. I woke up at home around 5pm the next day richer than I started. 
2. I don't like being touched. In fact, hugs freak me out and hand holding makes me sweat with nervousness. 
• I'm not sure why I don't like to be touched but my closest friends know this little fact about me. We had to go camp before clinic in school where we did a trust fall after telling some deep down secret of ours that usually ended in tears. We were all hot and sweaty as we were outside in DFW and it was my turn to fall. I did so and all of the catchers surrounded me for a group hug...all but Molly. My staff doctor told her to go give me a hug but she refrained telling him that I did not like them. I never appreciated her more as I tried to wipe off the sweaty hebegebees from being hugged by my classmates. 
3. The most invaluable gift that I ever received was a power drill.
• My roommate and I just moved into a small house and wanted to put up curtains in her room. We were unsure of how to do this as our last place of residence already had curtain rods installed above the windows. We were screwing our lives away (that's what she said) with no luck of the screw ever going into the wall. So I called a man of course to borrow some braun and bugged him on a daily basis to help us. To avoid helping he just bought me a power drill and left it at my doorstep. We still didn't know that we had to drill holes into the walls first so he ended up  doing in anyway and I still use that drill to this day.
4. My most outrageous dream is to move to Australia and own a Koala. 





Koala drinking bottled water. Cuteness overload


5. I have a sister who is 11 years younger than me and is the only person that I trust to keep a secret. 
• I got my bellybutton pierced when I was 18 just because my mom told me that I wouldn't. My dad threatened that if I got a piercing (belly or ear) he wouldn't pay for college (HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLO scholarship). I showed my sister who was 7 at the time and made a child promise not to tell our dad. Surprisingly she never told my dad, I became a better role model, and we still giggle about that secret to this day. 

Potty Mouth

I hate public bathrooms. I can't stand them. Bacteria, pee, smells, blood (nasty women), poop... I just shuddered typing these words. I hate public restrooms.

I hate public restrooms so much that my first few months in Dallas, I refused to use the loo while on campus. My bladder was about to burst every time I arrived home after being at school from 7am to 5pm and sitting in traffic on loop 12. It got to be such a problem that I ended up with a urinary tract infection that I didn't know I had.

I was just nauseous and my back kind of hurt. I couldn't hold my head up I felt so sick. When I finally drove myself to a doctor I was given the bad news that I had a pretty bad infection and it was starting to effect my kidneys. The doctor lectured me about my wiping habits (as if I didn't know how to wipe after 24 years), peeing before and after doing the deed, and more relevantly, not holding my urine in my bladder for hours. She just didn't get it. I took microbiology in high school (shout out to Mr. Jones), college, and grad school. Has she never done those swabbing experiments? The things that grow on those petri dishes. *gags*

To make matters worse, my parents owned a cleaning service. I remember them inspecting a bathroom in a public library to see if their employees were properly doing their job. A black light does not belong in a bathroom. Just trust me on that one. And guys, seriously...is peeing on the walls absolutely necessary? Have you not learned to aim that thing yet? It has only been attached to you for, uhhh...I don't know...your whole life?

With all this said, I will use a public wash room if I absolutely, necessarily have to. But trust me, jumping a curb with my car to be behind a bank and pissing in the grass behind my car door guarding my assets will always take precedence over a public restroom (one of my prouder peeing moments...sadly) Once, at a rugby game in Ft. Worth, I had to pee like a Russian race horse (which by the way still makes no sense to me). We were at a public park and I knew that I would have to use a public restroom at some point especially because I started drinking at 10 that morning. To my surprise they only had porta potties. I had never used one nor was I planning to but this was a completely open field and I wasn't going to make it to the nearest restroom. Needless to say, I came out of the potty crying like a baby because my experience was so bad.

By now I have lost half of you, wondering what the fuck is this post actually about? Well, now that I live with kids and do shit with kids, and kids...especially girl kids have to use the restroom a lot, I do the public John more than I'd like. I know God put me in this situation because he thought it would be a comedy; I'm sure it is.

Cue toddler potty stories. 

When I graduated from school, Harleigh only wanted to spend her few short hours with me. That included going to the latrine. It definitely wasn't the best experience taking her to the bathroom in Twisted Root. I did however have a very proud moment when she lifted up her foot to flush the toilet. I don't know where she learned it or who she learned it from, but I appreciate a germaphobe. My happiness did not last long though as I saw her long flowing hair get closer to the toilet bowl. She lost her balance and I catch her. Oh. Em. Gee that could have been bad. We're gonna have to remember to wait until we are older to do that. 

Once we took the girls to the circus when it came to town and it was quite an interesting experience. First, I don't remember the circuses I've been to very well, but I am pretty sure that they weren't a Mexican talent show. I was so confused by what was happening. Harleigh told her mommy that she needed to go the bathroom, but she was clearly not in the mood to take the 3 year old in a pull-up on that journey. Annoyed I told her to come on. We walked up a gajillion stairs and went swiftly to the bathroom as to not miss too much of the show.

Before we walk in, I remind myself that the CenturyLink has some of the cleanest restrooms in town. Not only is that a fact, but there were no obnoxious drunk people there to miss the toilet or puke on the seats. I walk the small human being to the closest stall and when I get into the stall I realize how claustrophobic I am. There is just not enough room in those things for 2 people. Small or not. I bend down to help her with her pants and realize I am eye level with a public toilet. I just need to move as quickly as possible.

She gets on to the seat. Shit. I didn't think about that. She had to use her hands. Her hands have now touched hundreds of "Ratchet City's" nasty asses. I can't wait until she is tall enough to teach her to hover. She sits there and talks to me proceeding to put her hands on her face. "NO!" I scream. She's shocked. I said, "We don't touch our face in the bathroom." Dodged a nasty bullet there. She finishes up and goes to flush the toilet. Oh God No. I told her I could handle it and lifted my foot to flush the toilet and get out of that stall as swiftly as possible.

I lift baby girl up to wash her hands. She turns the knob, gets soap, and rubs her hands for 0.6 seconds. You're supposed to rub your hands through your ABC's. Totally unsatisfactory. She then turns the knob off putting those ass germs back on her hands. Sigh. She runs over to the paper towels, dries off her hands and is proudly ready to leave. I grab her arm. Say, "hold on", pull out my pink and glittery hand sanitizer and teach her a lesson on OCD.