Sadie, My Sweet Girl

I remember the first day we got her: me, Steph, Graeme and Mom got in the car and drove for hours, or what seemed like hours because we were all so young. She was the one wearing a yellow ribbon. We were originally going to get the dog that was wearing the pink ribbon, however, when my mom laid eyes on the dog in the yellow, she just knew. And I remember going home that my brother, being only four years old, cried because we were taking her away from her mom, her family.

We didn't name her for awhile, we were waiting for something to pop out at us, something characteristic so her name would have meaning. It came after we realized that she loved sitting in the shade, so we called her Sadie, which was taken from shady.

And Sadie spent the last 12 years with us, just being a part of our family. That's what my brother didn't fully understand the day we got her, we weren't taking her away from her family, we were bringing her into our family, her family.

And now she's sick. She got old, sure, but she always our puppy. She was always the same gentle, kind, loving dog. But now she's sick, and she won't get better. She won't ever get better. And I wish she would, I wish so hard that she would, but she won't. We have to put her down tomorrow. Tomorrow. I just found out this afternoon that tonight is the last night she will ever be in our lives. I will never get to see my puppy again after I go to bed tonight. And I can't handle this. I can't stop crying. I just can't stop.

And the worse part for me is looking into her eyes, her eyes which used to be so full of life and so full of joy, eyes that have become empty, vacant, glassed over, and knowing that she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why we're so sad, although she tries to comfort us, and she doesn't understand that after tomorrow, she will never see any of us again. We will never see her again. I'll never see her again. I'll walk down the stairs tomorrow morning, expecting to see her laying down on the floor, as she always is in the morning, but she won't be. She will never greet me again, she will never be with me again. And I can't change this, no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to change this. And my heart just breaks because of this, and tears just spill - and no matter how hard I try, I cannot stop them.

I hope you rest easy Sadie, my sweet, sweet puppy, and I know you can't understand how much you've changed this family - but I sure wish you could. You've made us happier than anything else, and we will all miss you so much. And we will always love you, and remember you. I will always love you, and remember you. And I would give anything not to have to say goodbye.

"Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives."

Do you know how impossibly frustrating it is to want to write, and yet, words can't seem to come out in a coherent sense? No matter how hard you try, the words that miraculously manage to form on to the paper are completely dull, and hopelessly contrived. And then you feel angry, angry that you can't express yourself, angry that you can't write, even though it is the simplest thing ever, and it's what you were born to do. Angry that you can't be who you once were, and have stories, thoughts, desires, just spill out in this perfect poetic prose. And then you just feel like giving up, so everything that you want to say remains bottled up, and festers inside of you. It just festers, and festers, and festers until you start crying, slam down your laptop, and hate yourself. Then you actually give up entirely, and before long you just stop writing and lose a piece of yourself completely, a piece that won't come back -- do you know what that feels like? It fucking sucks. It's fucking draining, I'm dying inside and nothing will come out. I reread my words, and they're so fucking bad, I just want to throw up.

How did I get to this place?

I don't know what it is ...

... but my brain doesn't even know how to think anymore, let alone put coherent thoughts down on paper. My creativity has been zapped out of me lately, and for the life of me, I don't know why. All I know is it's annoying because once again my thoughts are becoming too squished up in that tiny brain of mine, and I need them to just spill out before I go crazy. Again.

Actually crazy. Again.

I'M THE BOSS BITCH.

Pad Thai is Some Groovy Stuff ... No, really.

Soo, I had Pad Thai for the very first time today ... and as soon as I typed that I immediately thought of Madonna's 'Like a Virgin'. I don't even know why I know that song, since anyone who knows me knows I'm practically a music noob. I also don't know why I'm telling you that's what I thought of, since it probably doesn't leave the greatest of impressions ... I swear, my mind isn't in the gutter! ... At least not all the time.

Basically, I lost my Thai virginity today - that's what I'm trying to get at in a very unorthodox and roundabout way. And I finally got there, huzzah.

Platypus. Yeah that's right. I just felt like randomly inserting 'platypus'. So I did; I have great powers that allow me to do so - be jealous. Or just make your own blog and then you can insert all the words you want into posts like 'explosive diarrhea', 'bulbous' and 'spattergroit'. NO! Self, must not give others ideas like this! Don't want other people to write blogs and steal all your readers! Won't survive if this happens!

How schizophrenic do I sound right now? Because I'm thinking it's somewhere along the lines of very very. Oh, and if you pictured me saying that while hitting myself on the head with a caveman club, your picture is quite accurate I'll admit. Except I don't have a caveman club so I had to settle for this mini baseball bat souvenir from a Toronto Blue Jays game that I went to when I was a young'un.

Anyway, I went to a restaurant, had a very stimulating conversation which made me feel all intellectual like ... actually, no, not really, it's summer. And then I ate. Pad Thai. Which I've already established. I don't like being redundant, yet I find myself being incredibly redundant. And instead of deleting these words, I'm continuing on typing them, which is the epitome of redundancy in and of itself. Oh, did I mention I despise redundancy? ... How's that for being redundant?

THIS IS MADNESS .... THIS IS REDUNDANCY!

Hehem, carrying on, the Pad Thai was good, a little bit of spicy and at one point I thought that my mouth was going to combust, but then I just used my brain and just drank some water and after that it was s'all good (I know, I'm brilliant). I didn't finish it all, which, if you know me, isn't surprising since I never finish anything at a restaurant but I was feeling good: my tummy was all warm, fuzzy and full.

(Me eating the spicy Pad Thai)

When I got back to my house a mere few hours later, all of a sudden I was extremely tired. I barely made it to my bed before I crashed into a fitful sleep during which I vaguely remember dreaming about babysitting an alligator that kept biting my hands off(a recurring dream of mine nonetheless).

I woke up a few hours later, 3 to be exact, and that's when things started to get weird. I woke up, drenched in sweat might I add, and ran downstairs because I was supposed to do the dishes before my mudder got home (thankfully my sister covered for me). However, as I was walking back to my room I experienced the strangest sensation in which it felt like I had no arms or legs, merely just a nub of a chest - it almost felt like floating in a sense.

When I got back to my room, I just sat on my bed and looked at the floor. For a good 20 minutes ... The carpet colour (black) was highly amusing to me and I, again, had a hard time believing it was real. At one point I was petting it, and then lying down on it rolling around.

I've had this carpet for seven years now - and despite what you may think, I just don't go rolling around on it for no reason, nor do I have I ever believed it's not real.

After that I couldn't get up off the floor, so I just laid down I waved my hands in front of my face and then I had this deep discussion with my self about how weird thumbs and fingers really are, all the while trying to pull them off my hand. Yes, literally pull them off - in case you're wondering, it didn't work and then I stopped because it started to hurt (no duh huh?).

(Me whacked out on Pad Thai)

The whole thing was weird, and when I think it's weird, you know it's weird. I still feel a little funny. I should probably go try to sleep it off now.

PS. Yeah, explosive diarrhea, bulbous and spattergroit were the first three words popped in my head, what does that tell you about me? NO! I do NOT need psychoanalysis thank you very much. I'm a normal and sane as the next person, aside from the very minor difference that I'm psychic and stuff.

PPS. In case you're wondering how I could babysit an alligator that kept biting my hands off, its simple; you see, I have the power of regeneration. Duh.

PPPS. Clearly you can tell that I'm still under the influence of this Pad Thai because this post is ... weird. Even I realize it's weird. Which probably means that it's weird to the power of ten and you're mind blown right now because I've reached new elements of weirdness. Or just really confused. Either way, I think my mission has been accomplished.

PPPPS. In retrospect, the grooviness I experienced could have also just been a result of the fact that I only got two hours of sleep last night, but sshh ... I like the Pad Thai explanation way better.

Craptop Update

Ah yes, this is a blog post dedicated to my very own laptop, or as I prefer to call it, my craptop. For that is what it truly was, complete and utter crap. If you are a new reader to this blog, and have yet peruse through my older posts, you probably have not a single iota of what I'm taking about. On a side note, I don't really know what 'iota' even really means, so one could say that I don't have an iota of what I'm talking about either, but that's not really new now, is it?

Ok, my curiosity got the better of me and I absolutely had to, that's right, HAD to, look the word up. The first response I got was the ninth letter of the Greek alphabet, which both worried and confused me, since that definition would have made it crystal clear that I really do have no idea what I'm talking about. And then my ruse would have been up, as y'all would have seen right through it. And then you, my readers, having been lied to, would have strayed away. And then my life would lose all meaning, since I literally live for this blog right here. And then the universe itself would have disintegrated into nothing, because I'm that important. Basically, it would have been a catastrophe. But then, as my English teachers taught me to, I kept reading on - I'm a good little student. The second definition was 'an extremely small amount'. I was elated as I stumbled across this; you see, I do know what I'm talking about :D. Sometimes ... Ok, let's just pretend I know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, to sum it up, I once had a Dell laptop that was probably the most sadistic creation on the planet. It literally lived to make my life a living hell, and often succeed in its ambitious endeavours. You could name anything that goes wrong with computers, and my Dell most likely did this. Freeze? Check. Corrupt my files randomly? Check. Shutdown suddenly? Check. Hard drive crashes? Check. Lag like there was no tomorrow? Check. Smell like pungent smoke? Check. This machine literally drove me crazy, bananas, up the wall, bonkers and the like. During my last few days of high school I lost not one, but two brilliant essays, I swear they could have won the Nobel prize for literature, and I'm not exaggerating ... much - the night before they were due. One of which was due on the day I wrote my exam. I ended up having to rewrite my essay and having NO time to study for the exam whatsoever - thanks laptop, I appreciate that. A lot.

You mother f-ing SOB you. @#)$)@#$@#)*

Yeah, but no, the thing hated me for some reason, and after awhile the feeling was mutual. After the last straw, aka the incident that I described above, I began fantasizing about dropping this machine out the window. Just slamming it down on the ground, and then, and even better, start attacking it with a sledge hammer would allow me to have my catharsis that I so desperately needed. But alas, I could not as I didn't have a replacement laptop. And in my book having the shittiest laptop on the planet is better than having no laptop at all, you know?

But then, in an unplanned, yet swift move, I exacted my revenge in such a sweet motion, I look back upon it in awe: I got a job. And then using then using the moolah that I earned from said job, I bought myself a machine that would appreciate me, and love me, the way my Dell had never learned how to do.

At last, I have a legitimate opportunity to have a real catharsis. Yes, this mother f-ing sucka is actually going to get dropped out of the window - expect the video real soon. The only thing that is stopping me is that I have to get some pictures and files off of it before I do that, as I wouldn't want to lose years worth of important life works right? And you know me, I was just too lazy to do this right after I got my mac.

But not anymore! As of this afternoon, that sucker is prepped for the experience of his short, but seemingly long - very very very long - life. In a few short days I shall be heralded as the killer of laptops, a title which I have aptly been anticipating. Now all I need to do is prepare myself mentally and charge the video camera and we are all set.

Note to self: charge the video camera and learn your own cellphone number, something which you still have yet to do, even though you've had the number for eons.

Hark, a segue! (I just randomly felt like saying hark, don't judge me. It's fun to say, you try it. Go on, try it. Hark, hark, hark, hark, hark. HARK. Told you, it's fun).

So while I was sorting out all my pictures I came across a few real gems. Take for example the loverly picture as seen below. I look awesome. And stupid. But that's the point, it's from Halloween when I dressed up as Malibu Barbie. 'OMG, like, I totally like saying things in a Valley voice and like, I love pink and like, I'm in love with Ken my lover. Oooh ahhh. Funny story, once I was dying my hair peroxide blond (oh please, you didn't think that this was my real hair colour now did you?) and then I killed all my brain cells - it was so worth it though because now I look all perty. He he.' I totally pulled it off.

Argh, you're right, I'm just jealous. Fuck it, I want to be Barbie. I don't care about having brain cells, I just want to be content with my peroxide hair and my love for pink. Why does the doll get to have all the fun?! Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhy?

Ok, if you guessed that I'm writing this really early in the morning, hey, you're right! That's why the above two paragraphs really make no sense. I'm getting kind of loopy since it's almost four. I have to get up in two hours. Why do I do this to myself?!

"I've Made A Horrible Mistake"

So today I'm in the process of repenting for my drunken actions last night. You know, I'm doing whatever repent-y people do. If you have any idea what repent-y people do indeed do, can you let me know? Because I'm just kind of making it up as I go along; it's not that I don't think that amusing yourself with a bendy lamp isn't some form of repentance ... wait, what am I talking about? That's exactly what I'm thinking. I'm also thinking it more so indicates that there is something wrong with me than anything else, including being repent-y.

Oh, so about my drunken tirade, it wasn't so much a tirade, nor was it drunken. I just used the word because I couldn't think of what word I actually wanted to use (something which has been happening to me an awful lot as of late - probably because my brain is so murky from the heat). Although, I did do something which I deeply, deeply regret. It is by far one of the most ghastly things that I have ever done in my life. And you must take this seriously, as I've done many, many dreadful things, such as eating dirt and dog food (no seriously, my mom had to hide it from me when I was younger or else I would often end up snacking on it - I was probably just trying to unleash the ferocious animal within me), sticking my finger in the crack of a door to see what would happen and wearing black platform boots for 15 hours straight. Gasp, I know, I was stupid.

But nothing that I have done in my eventful life thus far can top what I did last night. Absolutely nothing.

By now I'm sure you have a million ideas as to what exactly I have done. I can you hear all the exclamations buzzing around in your little brains: did you decide to take your love of sunscreen one step crazier and begin ingesting it as you would most likely do?! Did you decide that it was a good idea to take your mom's porcelain figurines and perform physics experiments on them (ie drop them out the window)?! Did you go on your roof to fly your kite in the middle of last night's thunderstorm?!

The answer is no, no and no - sadly. I wish I had done these things, yeah, even the whole roof kite thunderstorm gig that would have most likely ended in a complete and utter catastrophe: that's how ghastly the act that I committed last night truly was. And I don't think my mom owns any porcelain figurines. She's got a tea set though, so that clearly makes up for it in my book - as it should in yours. Like seriously, you aren't anyone if you don't own a tea set. How the fuck are you going to drink your tea then? Yeah, I went there; I used a f-bomb, that's how strongly I feel about tea sets.

Alright, alright, I'll cut to the chase as I know you are all mostly likely on the very edge of your seat, clutching your chair all dramatic and the like, desperately trying to hold on to refrain from falling to the floor to see what atrocious thing I have done now. Ok, take a few deep breaths, as you are most likely not going to believe the next sentence ... Last night I did something that I vowed I would never do, I got Twitter. Yes, I'm serious. I now 'tweet'.

Tweet, tweet, tweet. And yes, I may or may not run around my room flapping my arms like a bird every time I say that. And I may or may not fall down in the process of doing so. Don't judge me.

I can just hear you asking, well, Kelsey, why the fuck would you do that? My answer, I don't fucking know ok?! I have no freaking clue as to why on Earth I would do that, especially when I detest Twitter and everything it stands for so goddamn much. I must have been possessed. Yeah, that's right, possessed, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable explanation doesn't it? And you know what, I bet it was the ghost of the bird that died in my garage (if there is even such bird, I don't know, but I'd be willing to bet that at some point in time, a bird has indeed died in my garage as a) birds seem to frequent our house and b) our house is old as time itself - or seemingly at least). Yes, this is all making perfect sense, I was merely possessed by a species of creatures that seem to loathe everything I stand for. Oh and, the tweeting part of it - totally points to the birds as well.

So I suppose this is the point in the blog where I do some shameless self promoting and say hey, follow me on Twitter and stuff. But I wouldn't know, since I've never been good at the whole self promoting thing anyhow. My brilliant username would be kel_zee_belle - yeah, I know, can you tell I made it at night?

Oh, I was so mad because I originally wanted to make it sunscreenaddict - but some biznitch ahead of me took it. How dare they, I know! I wanted to cracked some skulls ... but this would have been impossible for me because I have weak arms and a short attention span, and it was at about two in the morning. I had to settle for snapping my finger and saying 'oh darn', but it wasn't as satisfying, if you know what I mean.

So long story short, I was possessed by a bird and made a horrible mistake by getting Twitter. Oh, I also like tea sets and I can't crack skulls. And I fall down, a lot.

Ps. If you understood the Arrested Development quote as the title, award yourself ten bonus points. However, as I've already reiterated what seems to be countless of times, these actual bonus points have no meaning, nor no redeemable value. I know, I know, it's incredibly disappointing and everything; tell you what, to make it up to you guys, I will draw you a picture of a flower. Flowers are nice, don't you think?

Ps. Never said it would be good now did I? If you thought it would be good, well, gosh darn it, your darn expectations are too high. Go lower them. Now. Don't come back until they're lower.

I'm totally kidding, please come back, I have this psychological need where people MUST read my incoherent babbles. I swear, it's probably some sort of complex or something. Yeah, I know it might come as a shock to you, but I'm complex man. And deep - but mostly just complex.

Changes All Around

Hey there guys, long time no I see, I know. I'm sorry! Really I am, you have no idea how much I've been trying to get a decent post on here. I swear, I've started at least 28 (ok, that may be a slight exaggeration on my part but somewhere close to that number) posts but they are all absolute shite so I just end up either subjecting them to my loverly delete key - which is both my best friend, and worst enemy I must say - or banishing them off to piles of drafts that I've already semi-composed where they will slowly wither away into nothing and then die. Yeah, that's right, die.

If you're reading this, you've probably noticed a design change. Well, at least, I hope you've noticed it. If you didn't, you may want to start paying more attention - or taper off the drugs that you're invariably on, whichever applies to you.

I know, I know, I'm always messing around with the design on this thing: it's not my fault I'm never satisfied, clearly, in this case, I must blame my parents. After all, it must be their fault that I have inexplicably high standards, right? Right?! That's where my logic train stops at. Ok, gah, I know that's bad man ... I'm telling you, there is something seriously wrong with me lately. I've turned into this subhuman, nocturnal creature who is rarely seen puttering around my house in a zombie-esque state before two in the afternoon; I stay up all night doing nothing, only to be awaken, quite inhumanely may I add, by my mudder at 12 telling me 'it's time to get up ... you bizarre little cretin you'. Ok, maybe she doesn't say the last part out loud, but goodness knows I bet that's what she's thinking. I basically respond through my usual means of communication (unintelligible grunts with a few choice words scattered about). And I've taken an immense dislike to the concept of bathing. Yeah, that's right, my family tells me that I need a bath almost every day now, but yet, I prefer to fester in my own filth. My excuse? It's more environmentally friendly as I'm not only using less water and chemicals, but I'm providing a place where wildlife (ie flies) can thrive (aka my hair). But that's probably too much information, right?

Yeah, my filter - you know, the one that tells me what information is an over share, and what isn't - clearly is on the fritz, as with the rest of my brain. With that in mind though, I'm going to attempt to do something that I haven't done in ages and tell another story about yet another embarrassing event that happened when I was a young and somewhat innocent, child. Expect it in about a month.

(No, not really, well at least ... I hope not. Though, judging by the current state that I'm in, it could be possible. I just threw that out there so I wouldn't disappoint you by not being able to meet a reasonable deadline - like three days: that would just put too much strain on myself, and dude, stress is the last thing that I need now. I'm already too fragile, stress might prove to be fatal). ---- See, look at that shite I'm writing right now, I don't even know what I'm trying to say, so I highly doubt you can comprehend my incoherent rambles.

I'm just going to quit while I'm behind here.

First VLOG!

Bonjour Take Two

Ok, so believe it or not, but that last post wasn't what I intended to type. You see, what I meant to say was that I was going to my cottage and therefore wouldn't post for a few days, but I got sidetracked when I picked out that title, thought of another story I could tell you and then I just ran out of steam.

Oh summer, what do you do to my brain? Half the time it feels like it no longer exists, and the other half, I swear, I can feel it gooping out of my ears. Just gooping.

Anyway, here we go: hang on tight kiddies, this may be a long post - or it may not be, because already my eyes are getting heavy and I feel myself dozing, dozing, do ... zzzz.

I suck.