And the storm continues...

In my last rant of a post I went on about the damn broken phone, and the tossing of cats in my direction, and the vet visit that stole that decanter from me... were it a normal person, that would have been the extent of the crap. But it's me. So now there's more. Here's the update.

Still got a broke-ass phone. Contacted all parties, and was denied by each. LG said I can send it back to be looked over by their technicians, and then they'll know how much repair costs. WireFly said "Fuck you. Call them". T-Mobile said "Fuck you, but you have insurance. Call them.". Odd... nowhere on my account can I find what they call the PHP Bundle- Premium Handset Protection. But she said I have it. However... it's through a company called Asurion, and what you do is file a claim with them, and if you've paid your $5.99 a month they accept that claim. Then they charge you your deductible (in my case, $130), and send you a new phone. OR they can send you a refurbished phone. OR if they don't have the phone you claimed, they will send you something similar. So, even with this so-called 'insurance', there's a chance that I'll end up with a refurbished G1 or something. I'm not really cool with that. They have a lawsuit going on in California against them- they were sending people phones that were not the models they claimed, and were refurbished, and that were worth less than the deductible. Shady... Not so happy with T-Mobile for working with such a scammy company.

So then next morning, I went into work, still bummed about the phone. And that Joe wasn't any better. On Wednesday, I had left a glass on my desk with about an inch of water left in the bottom. The office cat had knocked that glass over. Right onto the keyboard of my work laptop. It was off, but plugged in at the time. We left it open, and are hoping with a few days to dry out it'll come back to life.

So Thursday was crappy. Then I get home, and Joe is worse. He sounded completely congested, though there isn't any snot. Up until then, he didn't act sick at all- was his normal self. But when I got home, he didn't meet me at the door. He was laying under a table, all lethargic and pathetic and snorty. I took him back to the vet Friday morning. And he sent me to UGA emergency. I can't afford them. When they work up a case, they go for all the fancy equipment they have- and it's awesome they have it- but I don't have the fancy dollars to go with it. They have no payment plans, and actually charge 50% of the estimate (they come up with an estimate when you admit your animal, before they even know what's wrong) up front. No deposit, no vet care. Their estimate= 1500-3500 bucks.

So before I take him I check my checking account- I figure I probably have about $200 or so 'extra' (hardly- just not going directly to bills. Also now not going toward eating) dollars in there. EXCEPT that I had set up an online payment for my student loans a couple weeks ago. That was supposed to be $50. It went through, but the withdrew all $250 of my current balance. I am on forbearance, so I don't have to pay anything- I was just trying to get ahead. I freaked and called and they said "Sorry, can't reverse the charge." All they can do is process a refund and if I'm approved, they send me a paper check in 3-4 weeks. Shit shit shit.

I also had about 300 in a savings account I haven't touched in a while. I immediately set up a transfer for that. I called my dad. But he doesn't think of pets the same way I do. And is out of touch with what vet care costs these days. He might send me something. We'll see. He thought if it was going to be more than 200-300 bucks I should just euthanize him. I have about $100 left of my credit limit on my Discover card. So I'm working with limited funding here.

Anyway, I take him in. They rush him off, put him on oxygen. Then after a bit they come and get a history. Then talk about what they want to do. Here is where I have to say "I'm a shitty human and can't hand you 3K all at once to fix my baby" and I feel like they're judging me because of that. (Not in the way the student and doctor spoke with me- they were nice. But I've been backstage there- I did 25 weeks of interning there, and I've heard the way some of the doctors talk about owners with limited financial means. Basically "they have no business owning a pet if they can't pay for this stuff". Shit. Most people can't pay for that stuff for themselves).  So they try to keep things to a minimum to start with. I leave him there. They anesthetize him and do a visual airway exam. They didn't see any masses, but found that his vocal folds were greyish instead of pink, so they did a swab and found a lot of inflammatory cells there. Bloodwork is normal. Temperature and heart rate are normal. Lungs sound fine, but they did note it was hard to hear over his snorting. They called me and said it could be an infection causing the folds to inflame and close up. They suggested trying antibiotic and steroid therapy to see if that's the cause. They asked if I wanted him to stay overnight; I said yes because I wanted him to be there should it escalate quickly and I don't have a car.

I picked him up yesterday morning, and he seemed much better. I get home, and when he starts moving around it's right back to the way it was. He's trying to eat, but I think it makes it hard for him to breathe so he doesn't take more than a few bites. I tried wet food, but he has already shown his distaste for the food I bought for them (Organic red tuna and shredded chicken?? HOW DARE I?? Haha!). I tried some regular old Friskies wet food. No dice. I think he can't really sleep, because the angle of his head determines how easy it is to breathe. I know he was up most of the night, just laying there next to me. I'm really frustrated. It's sad to be so helpless while I know he feels awful.

I'm going to do what I have to to help him. I won't fight a losing fight- if it ends up being something with a poor prognosis, well, I'll deal with that when I have to. But I at least want to know what's wrong. What if it's just a foreign body in his sinus cavity? Or a benign mass just past his pharynx that's easily removed? I can't stand the idea of euthanizing him only to find that he would have been fine had I known what the cause of all this was. I have a few things I can sell- nothing of value except a decent clarinet I don't use any longer, but still. Anything will help. I will also be trying to work as many tours and events and what have you. My friend David wants to set up a donation page. I am a little wary of that, because I don't want people to think I'm not taking personal responsibility for my own pets. But he says 'screw it, give it a shot'. And since I am reaching the level of begging, I'll most likely let him do it. It is voluntary after all, and people always say that you can't get help unless you ask for it.

June 1 is Joe's 13th birthday. I really want him to be around for a while longer.

L-R: Joe, Oliver, Sadie

Fun while it lasted...

So much for me owning anything nice. Or new. Or cutting-edge. Whatever is in control of my existence is dead-set on keeping me living in a perpetual state of rebuilding. Or being reclusive. Or being drunk. Something like that.

First, everyone I know is trying to give me another cat. I don't need any more damn cats. I love them. And I would take them. IF I owned a house. And IF I wasn't a 30-year-old woman. Who also happens to still be single. One more cat would be the nail in the coffin of future love. Getting laid. What-have-you. One more cat means that I really am The Crazy Cat Lady. And if these people actually care about me, and want to see me stay social, and don't want me to smell funny, and want to see me find love and happiness and all that cheeseball shit, WHY THE HELL DO THEY WANT ME TO HAVE ANOTHER CAT?? Sabotage, I tell you. I do not need any more pussy, thanks.

Second, I saved up some cash so I could splurge on this completely unnecessary item I've been drooling over. A pink vintage wine decanter at Modern Star. I want to lick this thing all over, I like it so much. It's got a little matching glass stopper. And you can get a set of highball glasses made by the same crystal company that are all different colors. I saved from working tours, and had the exact right amount of cash in my wallet. Then Joe had to go and start having issues with his breathing. Since it was acute, and there wasn't any snot and he didn't act like he felt bad, I of course immediately think something awful since I know all that crap. I'm thinking "old cat. breathing issues. no other signs. congestive heart failure. or cancer. or hypertrophic cardiomyopathy". I'm thinking "dying". So I instead use that cash to take him to the vet, who says "most likely allergies". Which I should have also though about but instead I'm hardwired to think of the bad shit. Now I'm feeding him antihistamines. And while he's a little better, he's still not great. And I don't have a wine decanter to drink from in order to ease the stress.

Third, I was feeling better about the fact that Joe- yes, my baby; I adopted him when I was 17. I'm approaching 31. Nobody fucks with the Joe.- wasn't dying before my eyes of some unseen condition. And glad it only had so far cost 61 of those 100-decanter-dollars I had burning a hole in my wallet. So then I had to go and make sure to fuck that one up as well. I decided, "Oh, it's a nice night! I'll drink a beer on the porch!" and like an idiot I took the phone I just got a month ago out with me. I never do that. Because no one calls me anyway. It's just a let-down, you know? But for some reason I had some hope, and took it with. Kept it in my pocket. Then I get a text... "Who?? Someone wants to hang??". Nope. My dad. He just learned how to text. Ah, ok... then just after responding to his text, I feel this tickle on me. A damn spider has decided to build a web. On me. From one side of my upper body to the other. WTF, btw?? So, I set the phone on the side table. I brush the offending arachnid off, and bump said side table. And phone falls to the floor. First time it's been dropped. And the screen shatters. And I'm 5 days past my 30-day trial period. GODFUKINGDAMMIT. So I'm now SOL on an expensive-ass phone I don't really need but was super-happy with. I can't get it exchanged. And I can't afford to replace it. I can't change my plan for 6 months, and my old phone doesn't use mobile web so my current plan is useless. I can maybe get the screen replaced. For the same amount I paid for the phone. It still works. It's just leaving glass splinters in my fingers when I try to use it. They hurt.

Basically, I can't win. If I could get a break that lasts more than a month, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.

Shit. I need a vacation. From life.

Ooops! I forgot to get Raptured!

Guess what?? I'm still here. Big surprise, huh? Oh... wait. EVERYONE is still here. 

Suckas! Someone got punk'd.

Saturday came and went as usual. Except it got hot outside again. I worked the tour, I drank some beers, I went out. No one disappeared. No earthquakes. Just drinks and dancing and a lost ID... if anyone sees it (probably on the ground outside Dawg Gone Good BBQ or somewhere between there and Little Kings), bring it on over, please! 

Besides dancing like an idiot and drinking to excess (what's new?) on Saturday, I went to the Melting Point and saw the Crash Test Dummies. Remember them? I will say, it was pretty good. And Brad Roberts is pretty funny. Of course they played Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm in their encore. Shows there are neat because it's so small. I've never felt that it's so crowded there that should there be a tipped candle or some poorly-engineered pyrotechnics, I would be that girl who makes it to the door but ends up getting crushed by the crowd behind me against the doorframe. So that's good.

 

I wonder how many people called out of work on Friday with the belief they were going to be heading 'home' on Saturday? "Hi, Mr. Bossman. This is Sherry. I won't be coming into work today because I have a few things I need to square away before tomorrow's Rapture. Sorry for the inconvenience! I'm pretty sure Brad can cover for me, since he's a gay and all and will not be taken into Heaven... Oh, and I guess I won't be there on Monday, either. Or ever again. Thanks! Hopefully I'll see you soon!". And now what? I suppose those folks will have to go slouching in tomorrow morning with their tails between their legs. "Oh yeah that... my bad. I'll make up the hours." 

OR.... maybe I and all my nonbeliever friends are wrong. Maybe there is a god, and maybe the Rapture really did happen. Maybe the only ones taken up were a handful of recluse-types living in the woods and staying the hell out of civilization's way. Who would notice they were gone? Or maybe, just maybe, God thought about it a little and decided He'd rather not give one single person a backstage pass to Paradise. Perhaps the human race, as a whole, has been deemed unworthy. After all, collectively we are selfish, manipulative, ignorant, judgmental asshats with a propensity to destroy our Earthly home, shoot each other over tennis shoes and iPods, start wars over differences in culture or ancestry, and just generally Fuck Shit Up. Maybe this is why we can't have nice things. If this is the case, I totally don't blame Him... I wouldn't let us in, either. First thing that would happen would be the construction of a Wal-Mart. God knows this, of course. So maybe He looked around as his beautiful kingdom, free of douchebaggery and fast-food chains and NASCAR, and said "Fuck that". 

According to Facebook's Targeted Ads,

I am a gold-digging whore.

Thanks, Facebook!

Primero de Mayo

Osama bin Laden bit it today. Given how hard it was to find this guy, I had pretty much decided he'd never be captured nor killed. I figured we'd keep looking until the day some U.S. soldier who wandered behind some rocks to jerk off out in the Pakistani wasteland stumbled upon Osama's dead-from-old-age corpse by pure luck. But no. They found him, and then they went in there and popped a cap in his terrorist ass. AND they took his body. Take that, Al Qaeda bitches. However, there goes the motivation behind every political action of the past decade...  what will be the justified cause for the next war we start? Who will take over as Public Enemy Number One?

Twilight was loads of fun, though there was not enough food consumed prior to beers. Felt crappy all day today, and wasted a super-lovely day I should have used more productively. Like by taking out terrorists. Yeah. They really out-shined me on that whole getting-shit-done-on-the-weekend thing.

I really really really like my new phone. It's fancy and fun and I need a case for it so I don't do a classic Erin klutz move and drop it into a meat grinder or something. There are so many apps to choose from, and I really have no idea which I need (none) or want (all). My brain likes to simply shut down when presented with too many choices (much like my older computational devices) so I haven't done too many yet except Words With Friends and Facebook and foursquare. And two games. And Kindle. And Pandora. And Google Sky Map thing. Ok, I guess I fibbed a little. I have downloaded some. 

The other day I tried to check this thing to see if there were any comments. I typed in the URL, but inadvertently dropped the 's' from 'blogspot'. And lo and behold, up comes this. The Mega Site of Bible Studies. Seriously. All other letters in the URL the same as the page you're looking at now. Oh, the irony...

I've decided that if things in the beer world don't work out, or if I want to pursue a second occupation, I want to get a job writing the little product blurbs for a company like Heartland America. Specifically for items like this fine little gem. Where does one procure such employment?