November 16th and writing

I'll be 29. Poor people should be able to skip birthdays, IMO.

If it wasn't for my dad and Janna, it would be a seriously depressing day (money and something). At 29, shouldn't I be buying my own best present? Maybe 30 is the magic number?

Bah.

I've been trying to keep up with what I need to do for Textbroker to pay the bills, but it just isn't happening. My mind runs dry. It's just hard to write 400 words for $6 all day, even though it's really fairly good pay. Hopefully I'll come around and be interested enough to do it again. Or my SEOing will take off.

I neglected it (on purpose) for about three months so that the domains would age, which is an important part of ranking in the search engines, and when I came back I succeeded in making my rankings DROP by cleaning up my home page. WTF.

Oh, almost lost the dog, or so we thought. She suddenly became unable to control her bladder. Seems to have been an infection, though, as with some antibiotics she's actually better. Only another $150 or so borrowed. Woot. If it keeps her around for another year or so (optimism+old dog+cancer=stupid, I know), it's worth it. I sort of blame myself. I've been home far more than anyone else (except maybe Jeanne)...I should be taking the old dog out more. I will now!

Stupid dog

Warning: This blog entry ends up being sad.

Ours is the only house that I know of where it's okay to call each other "stupid dog." There's a reason for this.

A while back (and sometimes still, I believe), there was a cartoon on cartoon network called Courage the Cowardly Dog. The dog would inevitably save the day in some manner, and, at least once, the crotchety old man that was his owner would say "Stupid Dog!" But sometimes he'd do it in a nice way, on the very few times he realized that the dog had saved the day.

Our dog, Angie, has personality. She's always been seen as special so, like most animals in that position, she is special. She's a mutt, though mostly a lab. At about 80 lbs, she has always grunted and groaned and moo'd and such. And, because of that show, she's been affectionately called "Stupid Dog" for years. As in you can say "Stupid Dog" in a not so nice way, and she'll come up to you, tail wagging.

So, it's become habit, when someone grunts or groans in our home, to call each other "Stupid Dog."

The problem is, Angie is 13 years old with cancer. She only shows it in a tumor on her leg, and will still play as rough as ever, albeit not for as long.

So, lately, every time I say "Stupid Dog", I think, "Damn...I'm going to say that after she's gone, just out of habit...and it's gonna suck."

It's gonna suck period.