My dog died 2 years ago. I hung on to her very expensive dog drugs after her parting instead of flushing them because A: I am a tightwad and flushing $100 in perfectly good medication hurt my brain to think about and B: I wanted them to go to another furry creature who could use them and C: Did I mention that I'm OCD and make throwing anything useful out a huge production? My dog's awesome vet is all the way across town and I always forgot to bring them with me when I was driving through that neighborhood. Freecycling or Craigslisting them is surely illegal as they prescription drugs so I never listed them. And somehow I never got my act together to mail them back to my vet. I couldn't get my act together.
Until today.
I sent the drugs along with some empty syringes that they can use to feed baby birds and squirrels to the California Wildlife Center. Hopefully, some coyote will rest easier from it all.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Porn on the 4th of July
I was reintroduced to Michelle when she called me out of the blue. The last time I'd spoken to her, she'd been in the guise of an assistant to an agent I do a lot of business with. So every day I'd have a kind of a, "Hey, how are you, is your boss around?" conversation with her. She left the agency track to use her law degree and now works at a boutique entertainment law firm. She called me for advice on how to negotiate with a company that I'm currently working with. We had a great conversation and decided to get together for drinks.
Then I stood her up twice.
Well, not really. But I did make two drinks dates with her and then never confirmed either. I suck. At any rate, today I invited her to crash my friend's pre-4th of July bash. I'm so tacky. But I'm tacky, and a problem solver!
At any rate, we had a great time talking about dogs, shoes and her clients, a majority of whom are porn stars. Apparently porn stars are nicer than movie stars and have much simpler contracts. Who knew? I'm so glad she didn't hold my yucky flakiness against me. Even after finally sitting down with her I still feel guilt.
As my good deed of the day I hooked her up with my favorite, top secret consignment store where I buy all my clothes. Michelle is my type of girl. She likes a good deal, and the fact that she didn't have to pay for drinks or snacks made her day.
*********
July 4th, 2008
My grandmother walked with a cane. She had an enormous collection of beautiful walking sticks for every occasion. She would match her canes with her outfits and had a cane wardrobe that she stored in an antique umbrella stand by her front door. When she passed away, I took my three favorites canes for myself as weird home accessories. Initially they were displayed in back of my front door as a odd little domestic tableau. Eventually I took to storing them under the sofa.
Today I realized that I was hoarding these canes. My grandmother was tiny, so they are too short for anyone I know who needs a cane. They've been stashed under the bed since I moved in with my boyfriend 3 months ago. I have no real use for them.
I moved the canes to the trunk of my car. When my friend the propmaster gets back to town, I'm donating them to his prop kit.
Then I stood her up twice.
Well, not really. But I did make two drinks dates with her and then never confirmed either. I suck. At any rate, today I invited her to crash my friend's pre-4th of July bash. I'm so tacky. But I'm tacky, and a problem solver!
At any rate, we had a great time talking about dogs, shoes and her clients, a majority of whom are porn stars. Apparently porn stars are nicer than movie stars and have much simpler contracts. Who knew? I'm so glad she didn't hold my yucky flakiness against me. Even after finally sitting down with her I still feel guilt.
As my good deed of the day I hooked her up with my favorite, top secret consignment store where I buy all my clothes. Michelle is my type of girl. She likes a good deal, and the fact that she didn't have to pay for drinks or snacks made her day.
*********
July 4th, 2008
My grandmother walked with a cane. She had an enormous collection of beautiful walking sticks for every occasion. She would match her canes with her outfits and had a cane wardrobe that she stored in an antique umbrella stand by her front door. When she passed away, I took my three favorites canes for myself as weird home accessories. Initially they were displayed in back of my front door as a odd little domestic tableau. Eventually I took to storing them under the sofa.
Today I realized that I was hoarding these canes. My grandmother was tiny, so they are too short for anyone I know who needs a cane. They've been stashed under the bed since I moved in with my boyfriend 3 months ago. I have no real use for them.
I moved the canes to the trunk of my car. When my friend the propmaster gets back to town, I'm donating them to his prop kit.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Greentastic!
Hooray! My friend Laura called this morning to tell me that she is going to be interviewed for a show on the Green Channel that my friend Lisa is producing about how to have a bio-bling lifestyle.
That was my hook-up. Gold star for me!
Miraculously, I got through a ton of work today at record speed, so as my good deed of the day, during lunch I walked a mile to my post office for 1 cent stamps. Yes, I walked two miles round trip-for 20 cents in postage. It's good for my carbon footprint. It's also good for my carbon fatass.
That was my hook-up. Gold star for me!
Miraculously, I got through a ton of work today at record speed, so as my good deed of the day, during lunch I walked a mile to my post office for 1 cent stamps. Yes, I walked two miles round trip-for 20 cents in postage. It's good for my carbon footprint. It's also good for my carbon fatass.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
My Psychic Friends Network
Today I put my psychic friend Carol Ann up for a job reading tarot cards at a fancy Hollywood birthday party. I love the fact that I can say, "my psychic friend" without making those annoying quote-y gestures with my fingers.
Last year Carol Ann read my cards for my birthday in January and predicted that I'd close a big movie deal around the time of the Summer Solstice.
July 1st rolled around. No deal. Nothing even remotely in the works. I call Carol Ann. "What gives?" I demand. "Where's my fantastic deal?" Carol Ann consults the cards. "Oh. I screwed up," she says. "It'll happen this week."
"Well, thats bullshit." I think to myself. "Everyone's already gone for the 4th of July holiday."
On July 4th one of my director calls me frantically. "I met this rich guy at a party last night. He's agreed to finance our movie!"
Last year Carol Ann read my cards for my birthday in January and predicted that I'd close a big movie deal around the time of the Summer Solstice.
July 1st rolled around. No deal. Nothing even remotely in the works. I call Carol Ann. "What gives?" I demand. "Where's my fantastic deal?" Carol Ann consults the cards. "Oh. I screwed up," she says. "It'll happen this week."
"Well, thats bullshit." I think to myself. "Everyone's already gone for the 4th of July holiday."
On July 4th one of my director calls me frantically. "I met this rich guy at a party last night. He's agreed to finance our movie!"
Rose--June 30, 2008
Today I opened an email from my friend Rose. It was a desperate plea for money. Her beloved dog has cancer and she's maxed out her credit cards trying to save the dog's life. The dog is still living, but needs 10 rounds of chemotherapy. The chemo costs $700 a round. She can't pay for her dog's medical treatment and her mortgage. I hate reading this email.
Everytime I go to the vet's office, there's some family in tears, putting down their dog because they can't afford to pay to heal their pet. I always get teary eyed myself when I see other people make that horrible decision. It's those moments that I really wish that I could win the lottery. Because if I won the lottery, one of the things I'd definitely do is pay the vet bill for random strangers so their dogs could live.
So I commit myself to the lottery-winning, better version of myself, and call Rose.
(Those of you who have been paying attention might remember that I have no money).
I tell Rose that we're going to throw a garage sale for her dog. I'm going to donate the few boxes of garage sale items I've been hoarding for myself to the cause. Then we're going to call all our friends with too much stuff and ask them to donate their excess to our garage sale fundraiser. Our garage sale will take place on July 26th. Even though I really need the money, with her it's a matter of life and death. And, even though I don't really have the time to organize a garage sale for someone else's dog, I really want to believe that if I won the lottery, I would be the canine angel of mercy.
Everytime I go to the vet's office, there's some family in tears, putting down their dog because they can't afford to pay to heal their pet. I always get teary eyed myself when I see other people make that horrible decision. It's those moments that I really wish that I could win the lottery. Because if I won the lottery, one of the things I'd definitely do is pay the vet bill for random strangers so their dogs could live.
So I commit myself to the lottery-winning, better version of myself, and call Rose.
(Those of you who have been paying attention might remember that I have no money).
I tell Rose that we're going to throw a garage sale for her dog. I'm going to donate the few boxes of garage sale items I've been hoarding for myself to the cause. Then we're going to call all our friends with too much stuff and ask them to donate their excess to our garage sale fundraiser. Our garage sale will take place on July 26th. Even though I really need the money, with her it's a matter of life and death. And, even though I don't really have the time to organize a garage sale for someone else's dog, I really want to believe that if I won the lottery, I would be the canine angel of mercy.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Linda
My cousin Linda is a cypher. She is one of the great beauties of my family. She is also over 50 (but looks 35) and has lived with her mother her entire life. I can't remember her ever having a boyfriend. She has a very small group of friends who she's had forever. Her social circle is very small. Her days are spent working for the same boss that she's had for a quarter of a century. Her evenings are spent taking care of her mother and the other elderly members of my family.
I have always liked Linda, but I'm not really sure that she's always liked me. I'm extroverted and loud. Linda is neither. Our relationship has become more brittle in the last couple of years, and I don't feel like I see her often enough to know how to make it better.
My fabulous Uncle Ed, who just died, lived with Linda for most of her life. He helped raise her from childhood after Linda's father died. I think Linda was the one who discovered that Uncle Ed had died in his sleep when she went to wake him up and he didn't. I know that Linda blames herself for not insisting that our uncle go to the hospital sooner. She thinks that if she had done just a little bit more, he wouldn't have died so soon...at age 90. She is devasted by his death. Her social circle just got so much smaller.
Today I wrote a letter to Linda thanking her for being a good daughter and niece and cousin. She won't get this until I've come and gone from the memorial service. Even if she doesn't love being my relative, I'm really glad she's in my family.
Dear Linda,
Thank you for taking such good care of Auntie and the Uncles. I always talk about how lucky I am to have had my great aunts and uncles into adulthood. A lot of people I know don't even remember their grandparents, because they passed away when they were very young. I that this family is blessed with longevity, but I also know that happy people tend to live longer. This is where you come in--you're such a wonderful niece and daughter. I'm certain that your loving, 24 hour, care you give our relatives has helped extend their health and their lives. I know I'm not the only person who believes this to be true. I just wanted you to know. Thank you Linda.
I have always liked Linda, but I'm not really sure that she's always liked me. I'm extroverted and loud. Linda is neither. Our relationship has become more brittle in the last couple of years, and I don't feel like I see her often enough to know how to make it better.
My fabulous Uncle Ed, who just died, lived with Linda for most of her life. He helped raise her from childhood after Linda's father died. I think Linda was the one who discovered that Uncle Ed had died in his sleep when she went to wake him up and he didn't. I know that Linda blames herself for not insisting that our uncle go to the hospital sooner. She thinks that if she had done just a little bit more, he wouldn't have died so soon...at age 90. She is devasted by his death. Her social circle just got so much smaller.
Today I wrote a letter to Linda thanking her for being a good daughter and niece and cousin. She won't get this until I've come and gone from the memorial service. Even if she doesn't love being my relative, I'm really glad she's in my family.
Dear Linda,
Thank you for taking such good care of Auntie and the Uncles. I always talk about how lucky I am to have had my great aunts and uncles into adulthood. A lot of people I know don't even remember their grandparents, because they passed away when they were very young. I that this family is blessed with longevity, but I also know that happy people tend to live longer. This is where you come in--you're such a wonderful niece and daughter. I'm certain that your loving, 24 hour, care you give our relatives has helped extend their health and their lives. I know I'm not the only person who believes this to be true. I just wanted you to know. Thank you Linda.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Life Support
I've been thinking (and talking) a lot about death recently. My favorite uncle passed away last week which I'm super sad about. But even before his passing last Wednesday, I'd been pondering my own mortality a lot since Memorial Day weekend when Patty's son got a kidney transplant. I'm a full body organ donor. If I can't die of old age in my sleep like Uncle Ed, and I instead die horribly in some accident, I hope it's near a teaching hospital or some place that can part me out to the largest number of people. Being an organ donor helps me personally insure that people continue to believe in miracles. I know that Patty believes in them because some stranger gave her kid the gift of life.
Patty has inspired me to be more vocal about insisting that people sign on to be organ donors or at least donate their body to science. It's like the ultimate in recycling. I guess I'm not squeamish about this subject in part because my father is a doctor and I was raised to believe that donating yourself to save others is a good thing. But I'm also not that afraid of death. I think there's an afterlife and in that space or plane of existence I believe I will be okay. My living will expresses my wish to donate as much of my body as possible to help others, and it also expresses my wish to die without fanfare if I'm ever pronounced brain dead. I don't want to be hooked up on a machine, draining the emotional and financial reservoirs of my family and friends.
Today, Patty emailed me some thoughts about her living will that she's in the process of drafting:
"Last night my sister and I were sitting in the den and I said to her, 'I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of life at all, If that ever happens, just pull the plug.'
So she got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.
She's such a bitch."
Patty's awesome.
Patty has inspired me to be more vocal about insisting that people sign on to be organ donors or at least donate their body to science. It's like the ultimate in recycling. I guess I'm not squeamish about this subject in part because my father is a doctor and I was raised to believe that donating yourself to save others is a good thing. But I'm also not that afraid of death. I think there's an afterlife and in that space or plane of existence I believe I will be okay. My living will expresses my wish to donate as much of my body as possible to help others, and it also expresses my wish to die without fanfare if I'm ever pronounced brain dead. I don't want to be hooked up on a machine, draining the emotional and financial reservoirs of my family and friends.
Today, Patty emailed me some thoughts about her living will that she's in the process of drafting:
"Last night my sister and I were sitting in the den and I said to her, 'I never want to live in a vegetative state, dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle to keep me alive. That would be no quality of life at all, If that ever happens, just pull the plug.'
So she got up, unplugged the computer, and threw out my wine.
She's such a bitch."
Patty's awesome.
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