Find Ice a Job

My friend, Matty Ice, has recently blogged about not having a job and how he's sick of people asking him if he has found a job yet.  In effort to help him find a job, I have decided to do the most effective thing a person living in 2016 can do to invoke real change in the world: start a hastag.

So please, SPREAD THE WORD.  #FindIceAJob

Also, goodnight Cathy.

See the post here: I REALLY NEED A JOB

Lucy

It was November 2005 when my family and I brought home the cutest little blonde female Golden Retriever puppy. We had consciously decided to adopt a female, since they were typically smarter and smaller than their male counterparts.  However, as we soon learned, this was no typical Golden, this was Lucy.

Lucy and I grew up together.  As I morphed through my awkward teenage years into my even awkwarder early 20s, she morphed into a 90lb beast, known for her stubbornness, hilarious stupidity, and undeniable love and affection for any and all things that came into contact with her.  Whenever someone came within a reasonable distance of her, she would lean on them and greet them with a high, friendly bark, begging for a pet on the head.  When they tried to walk away, she pawed at them, not wanting the affection to end.

Throughout the years, I remember: once coming home to find her covered in her own shit and exclaiming to my friend "she diarreahed all over the place!"; her eating a live frog; taking her outside on the leash when I was home alone with her, deathly ill with the norovirus; the first time she barked playing in the leaves as a puppy, the only time we all thought her bark was cute; how she treated the Invisible Fence as more of a "guideline" than an actual barrier, she very much enjoyed her walkabouts through the neighborhood; and playing with her bright red football in the yard until I got sick of trying to pry the football from her mouth's incredibly strong clutch.  My friends all knew that once Lucy got a hold of a ball, whether it be a lacrosse ball or basketball, we'd need to spend at least the next 10 minutes chasing her around trying to retrieve it.

Yesterday, during a visit to the vet, they discovered a large, potentially malignant tumor in Lucy's abdomen.  She's 11 years old, quite old for a Golden, and it is not known how much treatment would prolong her life.  Later this week, she will be gently and humanely put to sleep.  She will spend her final days doing all things she enjoyed: spending some time in the warm sun, enjoying a delicious Dairy Queen vanilla cone, and scarfing down a grilled steak, bone and all.

While visiting home for my birthday weekend, I had the pleasure of seeing and petting Lucy for what was likely the last time. In this heartbreaking moment, as a ran my hand along the soft blonde (now riddled with white) fur of her back, I realized, even though I don't see her as much as I used to, how difficult it is to lose her and how different visits home will be.  Lucy was always the first to greet me when I visit and yesterday was no different.  She always provided an interesting obstacle, being a 90lb dog laying in the most inconvenient places, whether she was on the bottom step or laying in front of the drawer or cupboard in the kitchen (she refused to move, as per her aforementioned stubbornness).  And whenever I would eat anything, and I mean anything, those old eyes would gaze at me with the look of the same puppy we brought home 11 years earlier, and she would throw in an occasional high yelp, just in case I didn't notice she was there...

Goodbye and rest in peace Lucy, Lu, Lulu, Lu Goo, Biggy Lu, Big Dumb Stupid Dog.  I love you and I know you always loved me at least as much as you loved everybody and everything else.

Time Passes, Blog Posts Aren't Written

Wow, wow...WOWZ.

It's 2016.  My last blog post was in 2012. It's been over three years since you've been able to read my mindless drivel online. Unless, of course, you're friends with me on Facebook.  During this time, much has changed.  I no longer live in Fort Wayne, or that shithole state known as Indiana, I adulted and purchased house, I am now responsible for the well being of another living thing (don't worry, it's a dog), and I trained for a marathon I didn't run.

And that all happened in the past 18 months!

Isn't that amazing?  It doesn't feel that long since I started this a joke to kill time after returning from the bar.  I actually totally forgot about this blog until last month when I was reminiscing with some of the best people I know.  Time flies when you're having fun, I guess.

So, here we are again my friends, older, wiser, and a little more mature. I sit here, sipping my bourbon, blogging about not blogging and watching my girl sleep next to me (again, I'm talking about my dog), a little shocked about how much time has passed and how much has changed and how that crazy dude from The Apprentice and Home Alone 2 might become president. I'd like to wish you all a happy belated New Year, also for 2013, 2014, and 2015.  You're beautiful and awesome!

Goodnight Cathy.

*Edited for the improper use of your/you're