As if I needed more reasons to love my best friend, he gave me a few last night -- first, by accompanying me to the vet and being sympathetic after I had to pay the bill. First off, she was due for her annual check-up in a week or two, so we went ahead and got everything done, in addition to investigating the worm problem. She tested negative for worms actually, but they gave her medication anyway. She passed everything else with flying colors, got a clean bill of general health, and enough heartworm medication to last through the end of 2003.
I, however, did not get any treatment for my heart when I had to shell out three hundred bucks for everything. Writing about it now makes my blood itch and breathing short and spastic. I mean, I knew it was going to cost money. I had anticipated about $150, which seemed reasonable though still more than I could techinically afford, at least until payday next week. But I had resolved that it would be okay, since I was also getting paid for a couple DJ gigs in the next few days. But when she read off the total, my stomach hit the floor. On the way out the door, I was thinking about how some people would describe this experience as being bent over and fcked from behind without lube. The thing is, I rather enjoy being bent over and fcked from behind and soemtimes even have fantasize about this happening sans lube (though I wouldn't do this in real-life because, um, ow?!), so instead it felt to me like having my intestines pulled out. You don't need these right? Let me just jerk them out and snip off a few feet for myself. Or maybe it's more like being punched in the gut. Whatever.
Don't get me wrong. I love my dog. The numerous photos of her in my workspace are evidence of this fact. I know that preventative healthcare is still cheaper than paying for curing any of these things they're vaccinating against (not to mention her possible loss of life). And I know that barring any accidents and emergencies (mad knocking on wood), I won't have to pay this much again for about a year. But damn, it still hurt.
It might be time for another round of cleaning out my CD's and DVD's and making a trip to the record shops. Also, I'm not opposed to selling myself, so if anyone is interested in shelling out for some sexual favors, please let me know. Oh my goodness, I just realized how faggy drama that is. I'm the strange equivalent of the Lifetime television movie mother who strips to earn money for their kid -- I give blowjobs to pay for my dog's distemper and rabies shots.
Oh, and the other reason I love Damon after last night? He burned me a fabulous 2-CD set with requests for my gig tomorrow night, in addition to some amazing bonus cuts, including the best songs from the soundtracks to both Breakin' and Saturday Night Fever. Listening to this music helps me forget how broke I am, as well as giving me some great ideas for spinning.
I, however, did not get any treatment for my heart when I had to shell out three hundred bucks for everything. Writing about it now makes my blood itch and breathing short and spastic. I mean, I knew it was going to cost money. I had anticipated about $150, which seemed reasonable though still more than I could techinically afford, at least until payday next week. But I had resolved that it would be okay, since I was also getting paid for a couple DJ gigs in the next few days. But when she read off the total, my stomach hit the floor. On the way out the door, I was thinking about how some people would describe this experience as being bent over and fcked from behind without lube. The thing is, I rather enjoy being bent over and fcked from behind and soemtimes even have fantasize about this happening sans lube (though I wouldn't do this in real-life because, um, ow?!), so instead it felt to me like having my intestines pulled out. You don't need these right? Let me just jerk them out and snip off a few feet for myself. Or maybe it's more like being punched in the gut. Whatever.
Don't get me wrong. I love my dog. The numerous photos of her in my workspace are evidence of this fact. I know that preventative healthcare is still cheaper than paying for curing any of these things they're vaccinating against (not to mention her possible loss of life). And I know that barring any accidents and emergencies (mad knocking on wood), I won't have to pay this much again for about a year. But damn, it still hurt.
It might be time for another round of cleaning out my CD's and DVD's and making a trip to the record shops. Also, I'm not opposed to selling myself, so if anyone is interested in shelling out for some sexual favors, please let me know. Oh my goodness, I just realized how faggy drama that is. I'm the strange equivalent of the Lifetime television movie mother who strips to earn money for their kid -- I give blowjobs to pay for my dog's distemper and rabies shots.
Oh, and the other reason I love Damon after last night? He burned me a fabulous 2-CD set with requests for my gig tomorrow night, in addition to some amazing bonus cuts, including the best songs from the soundtracks to both Breakin' and Saturday Night Fever. Listening to this music helps me forget how broke I am, as well as giving me some great ideas for spinning.
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 10:50 am (UTC)By the way, thanks for the vistaprint.com recommendation. So fabulous.
strange as angels dancing in the deepest oceans
Date: 2003-04-24 04:59 pm (UTC)this, however, takes the cake.
I just realized how faggy drama that is. I'm the strange equivalent of the Lifetime television movie mother who strips to earn money for their kid -- I give blowjobs to pay for my dog's distemper and rabies shots.
you do realize it. i can't decide, though, if it makes it worse or better.
(you could totally be played by tom irwin.)
Re: strange as angels dancing in the deepest oceans
Date: 2003-04-25 07:28 am (UTC)Tom Irwin!!!
no subject
Date: 2003-04-24 10:43 pm (UTC)fcked in the azz at the china buffett
Date: 2003-04-27 12:48 pm (UTC)And pet insurance is really awesome if something comes up that you were never expecting. Like babies.