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raisedbymoogles

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January 30th, 2012

*whine, moan, bitch*

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Today? Sucked. A lot of little things went wrong, some of which were my fault, some sick animals, some bodily fluids... oh yeah, and a puppy died during her spay procedure.

Eleven slagsucking months old. Anaphylactic shock. Fuck the world, man.

*throws self on floor, has a minor tantrum, curls up and sniffles* Someone cheer me up?

November 30th, 2011

Animal abuse, update.

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Remember this business from a couple weeks ago? (Animal cruelty and the attendant ranting.)

Well, the dog's owner has been turned in to the authorities - I want to say the Humane Society, but I'm not sure - by her own daughter. The doctor who saw the dog is being asked to corroborate, which she is doing. The daughter also apparently said that the story her mother told, about being in the hospital for three weeks and then coming back and discovering the dog's injury, is a complete lie.

I'm sorry that a family will likely be torn apart by this, but... yeah, I'm glad the daughter did that.

November 16th, 2011

This is why I prefer animals to people.

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Posting this to no real purpose aside from venting. Warnings for animal abuse, graphic wound description, and May Make You Hate Humanity.

This is about as bad as it gets. )

November 2nd, 2011

Well, there's something to be said for a vivid imagination.

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So, a client and her daughter come into the exam room, hand the dog off to the doctor to be weighed, and head off to the bathroom. After they left, the doctor looked at me and said, "That little girl just handed me the leash to her imaginary dog."

"Aww," I said. "That's kinda cute."

"I think it's a little disturbing. Maybe it's just me, I never had any imaginary friends or anything like that when I was younger."

"Really? I had zillions."

(And now you know where my fanfic comes from.)

The client-and-daughter return and it's Back To Business, and it is then that we discover that the little girl is what my mother would call A Talker. And she is only interested in one subject.

"Well, she ate something she shouldn't have a couple of weeks ago..." says the client.

"And Brooke!"

"She's shedding so much these days, it must be the season."

"And Brooke!"

"So she'll be getting three shots today..."

"And Brooke!"

Brooke, we are informed, is the name of the Invisible Dog.

Me, I'm keeping my head down and holding on to Millie the Visible Dog, but not only is Brooke in the room with us, she is apparently sharing the exam table with her transluscently-challenged sister. When the doctor goes to take Millie's temperature (and if you have ever taken a dog to the vet, you know how we do that), the little girl wants to know what Brooke's temperature is. When the doctor looks in Millie's ears, the little girl chatters about Brooke's ears. When the doctor informs the client that Millie should come in to have her teeth cleaned, Brooke is, apparently, in need of a dental appointment as well.

Meanwhile, I'm still stuck wondering how in the world one takes the temperature of an invisible dog. I have enough trouble finding the relevant orifice on the hairier specimens of visible dog. The doctor, meanwhile, is just weirded out. Fortunately, the exam and vaccination of Millie seems to satisfy the little girl that Brooke has been taken care of as well, and the happy foursome is quickly ushered out. I was compelled to admit to the doctor that yeah, I changed my mind, that was actually kind of disturbing. My imaginary friends stayed secret, dammit! Kids these days.

I am stuck, though, with the image of the doctor pantomiming a checkup on an imaginary dog. It'd be an interesting offshoot of the art form of the mime.

...I suppose an imaginary dog would need imaginary vaccines.

June 6th, 2011

Oh my god.

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Lady. Lady. It's an e-collar, not a icepick to the skull. Get over yourself.

(Seriously, when the doc brought up the e-collar the owner looked like we were offering to amputate the cat's head. I predict Non-Compliant Patient Syndrome.)

June 3rd, 2011

SINGLE BLACK MUNKY SEEKS BANANA

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So I showed the munky video to the people at work (because we have nothing else to do right now, thank you town festival), and one of the ladies said of Primal, "He's a gay superhero!"

I died.

Other than that, they didn't get it, but they laughed. So I'm pretty happy. ^_^

(Why don't I have any Primal icons, guys?)

May 31st, 2011

Ngh.

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I'm tired. My back has been killing me all day. I have way too much stuff to get done this evening, and so inevitably today was the day we got so far behind at work that we had to stay an extra 45 minutes to get every patient in.

Someone cheer me up? *chibi*

February 28th, 2011

Thanks, world! Just what I always wanted! I don't think I want it.

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It's been an interesting day.

Various medical wtfs Happened in the vet clinic today - crazy even for a Monday. I really think we should have our own reality show. We'd be a big hit, and we'd horrify a lot of people, but I repeat myself. For example, this poor dog comes in with a prolapsed penis and everyone's reaction was "Dude, look at that penis!" My reaction was somewhere between 'ew' and 'you know, if a guy saw his own personal penis doing that, he would not wait two days like this dog's owners did. They would take themselves straight to the emergency room - and I mean 'straight' as in 'leaving comical man-shaped holes in any wall that happens to be in a direct line between him and the hospital'. '

We're not pretty, but we're entertaining. ;)

WTF number 2 is that my student loan payment seems to have grown legs and walked out of my mailbox. It was gone when I came home on my (tragically shortened due to Medical WTFs) lunch breaks, but the card to my aunt was not, and the mail lady was still two houses behind me. Either the wind be's so mighty as to sweep it away (possible, with today's weather), or someone took it. Mom has advised me to stop payment and put my payments in a more secure mailbox from now on. It's not the actual check I'm worried about, but the fact that it has my name, address, phone, and social security number on it. So, action shall be taken, I guess.

WTF number 3 - well, remember how right after I "graduated" from "college" I was looking for a job that would have something to do with my "degree"? And nobody even so much as gave me an interview until I finally gave up and applied to the vet's? Yeah. Over two years later, someone finally gets back to me. It's a sign shop, so not exactly the creative nirvana I'd been expecting, but I would have been thrilled to get this email. Over. Two. Years. Ago.

And as Primus is my witness, I have no idea what I should do.

My current job... I like it. It pays better than anything I've ever had before, it has me dealing with animals more than people, and the people there gave me a chance to prove myself and I did. On the other hand, it's kind of kicking my ass. And it's pretty much a dead end - I have absolutely zero interest in going any further in the field of veterinary medicine. Working at a sign shop isn't exactly the fast track to graphic design stardom either, but it's a step.

But... it's a step I'm no longer sure I want to take.

Maybe the whole 'worthless degree costing me 10k' thing has given me some unfair animosity towards the industry. I know for sure I wasn't in a great place emotionally when I made the decision to enter OIP&T, or else I would've done my goddamn research. I love the design work I've done for my friends so far, but... I don't know. It's not that I don't want to be a graphic designer anymore, I just don't... I want to make the things that I want to make, not whore my art out to marketing drones.

I don't know what to do. I've fucked myself over by waffling in indecision too long, holding on to things long after I should have quit. And I've fucked myself over by quitting too soon.

*head in hands*

Maybe I'll have an answer for the sign shop guy in another two years.

February 15th, 2011

How is this my life?

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Those of you who follow me on Twitter have already gotten this headline, but here's the full story.

So, payday. Opened up my paycheck and took a peek. My reward for two weeks' hard work? Eight dollars and two cents.

Clearly, something had gone Awry.

I went to my boss and, in my typical adorably self-effacing way, suggested hesitantly that perhaps something here was Not Quite Right. After she got done killing herself laughing, boss referred me to Office Manager, who told me in exasperation that although she had made a boner while entering my overtime, she had called the Paycheck People and been assured that it would be fixed forthwith. The $8.02 check had been voided, to add insult to injury. So much to treating myself to an extravagant Happy Meal. XP

After spending an hour playing phone hockey (like phone tag, except someone loses some teeth), Office Manager reported her findings: my real paycheck had been sent to England. Where in England, why, and how, I have no idea and probably never will. It is one of those Mysteries of the Universe. Regardless, my paycheck was being sent back, and has been promised to me tomorrow.

We'll bloody see, wot.

January 31st, 2011

*curls up and growls at the world*

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So a dog died during a routine dental cleaning today. I was watching the vitals and everything was normal until it just - went south. All at once. It happened so quickly.

The doctor took an X-ray afterwards and found a severely enlarged heart. Nobody had noticed any signs that he was sick. The other tech that was there was friends with the dog's owner, so she was crying, and the doctor was just stunned. He kept saying "This wasn't supposed to happen," while I was cleaning the tools because I didn't know what the hell else to do.

The dog's name was Jake. He was only four years old.

.....

Fuck you, January. You had to get that one last blow in, didn't you? Fuck you with a rusty chainsaw.

January 17th, 2011

Okay, because my brain is fried.

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Work is still kicking my ass. I think I've got a sort of decent equilibrium thus far, but I'm just so tired when I come home, physically and mentally, that I can't do anything. I haven't gotten any decent writing done in a while.

So between that, and some family stuff behind link, ) I've kind of lost my mind, but I know I've promised people I'd draw stuff/design stuff/make stuff for them. If I owe you something, please sound off? I'm going to be slow about it, but I want to keep my promises.

January 12th, 2011

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So, remember the vet that annoyed me with generalizations?

He scraped off my car for me last evening.

Nobody's just one thing. ^_^

December 21st, 2010

Update.

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The dog that got hit by a car yesterday?

Will be just fine. <3 She's going home tomorrow. She's awful sore, poor baby, but there weren't any broken bones or internal damage. So that was a relief.

In celebration, have my favorite Christmas song.

December 20th, 2010

Urgh.

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Blowing off steam. )

December 9th, 2010

Of obesity management in dogs, or lack thereof.

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So this dog comes in to check out a limp. She's older, has hip displasia (probably spelling that wrong), and is at least twenty pounds overweight, and Doc detects a bit of arthritis. "The best thing we can do for this dog," she tells the owner, "is get some weight off her. What do you feed her?"

"Oh, we feed her this low-calorie kibble..."

"Well, that's good."

"And she gets table scraps."

"Yeah, you'll need to cut that out. Table scraps aren't really-"

"And she gets a hot dog every day."

"Well, that's-"

"And she gets beef jerky."

"Er-"

"And she gets cheese."

"-um-"

"And she gets McDonald's."

"Dear God, man."

And you wonder why she's overweight. XD Doc was dubious about the dog's chances of regaining a girlish figure given how the guy went on, but maybe it sunk in a bit when she started horrified-laughing at him, right around the time the cheese was brought up. We can hope!

(This blog is rapidly being taken over by crazy work stories. I was afraid this would happen.)

SPEAKING OF WEIGHT LOSS, I am going to have to revamp my eating habits, because I simply do not have time or energy to exercise anymore. Mornings before work, I'd have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to have enough time to exercise* and take a shower, and when I come home from work I am just too damn wiped. This is going to be difficult, especially since after unloading this week's groceries, I have a sneaking suspicion there will be Cookies in the near future. *thinks*





*Anyone who says to me 'oh, you can't spare just thirty minutes?' is a DIRTY DIRTY LIAR. It never takes just thirty minutes, because you have to find the one bra that holds your boobs more or less in one place so you don't give yourself a concussion, and then you either dig your music player out of whatever pocket you left it in or set up the DDR if for some reason you don't feel like going outside and displaying your huffing, jiggly self to all the neighbors, and then you have to stretch, and then you have to warm up, and THEN you exercise, and then you cool down, and stretch again, and slurp down a glass of water, and that's half the morning gone right there and you are in desperate need of a shower because you are sweaty and gross. The only way exercise takes thirty minutes is if you skip the exercise.

December 7th, 2010

TL;DR: It's been a Day.

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So for those of you just tuning in: I have clinical depression. Sometimes I also have bad days. The two may or may not be related, but they sure tend to feed on each other.

And the rest is behind a cut for Sad Things, including a dog being put to sleep. )

So I'm all out of HP, emotionally speaking. I kind of miss my therapist.

November 23rd, 2010

Ugh.

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Whining about work. )

Dammit, I could seriously go to bed right now, but I promised myself I could write some porn if I made some decent progress on my giftfic first...

November 18th, 2010

Aaaagh. *whimper*

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So today's training did not calm my fears one. tiny. bit. There's so muuuuch! And the beepy machines they hook the animals up to during surgery are entirely too beepy! I don't know if I can handle this... /Crona

....tomorrow's my day off though, so I'll have that time to recover and maybe re-gather my coping ability. *groan*

On a completely unrelated note, mild spoilers for Tron: Legacy. )

November 16th, 2010

I did want something to change.

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So, I'm going to be going full time at the animal hospital as an assistant (read: animal nurse, not just slinging poo anymore!) starting more or less tomorrow. I'm... kind of having mixed feelings about this.

...actually, no. That's a lie. I'm terrified. I'm scared I'll commit some spectacular fuckup that will result in the maiming or death of one of the animals, or just plain won't be able to handle the extra hours or responsibilities. The only reason I'm going ahead with this is because I'm even more afraid of being stuck where I am for the rest of my life. So, damn the torpedoes. Or something like that.

It's not what I want. But focusing on what I want hasn't gotten me anywhere, so I'm going to see what happens when I focus on what I need.

October 6th, 2010

Needed: one long shower.

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Dear small geriatric dogs,

I feel so sorry for you. Your owners keep making excuses why they can't do the things necessary to take care of you, and you deserve better than that. ...That being said, I hate handling you. You're gross. *washes uniform and scrubs hands frantically to get rid of the smell*

Love from a distance,
Moogle

(Yep, I got to help in the exam room today. Still a fun job, despite the occasional walking crudball.)
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