Photos of some Noms I’ve made

Since I’ve been forgetting to make great updates on my blog, (despite it being the home page for my internet…so I see it multiple times a day) I’ve decided to just post some of the noms I’ve been making.

  • Dog Cookies with Carob
  • BBQ Sauce
  • Potato Chips
  • Chocolate Fudge
  • White Chocolate Espresso Cake
  • ‘Better Than Fries Potatoes’
  • Chicken Parmesan Bread Bowls
  • Sugar Cookies (Nibble out the hairstyle of your choice)
  • Peanut Butter Fudge
  • Box Mix cupcakes, with vanilla bean buttercreme
  • Whipped Cream on frozen fruit.
  • Momofuku Birthday Cake
  • Taco Stuffed Shells
  • Chocolate Whipped Cream on Chocolate cupcakes

 

I just had all 4 of my wisdom teeth taken out, so I’ll be out of it for the rest of the day. I recently adopted a kitten! So a post about my baby girl will be up soonish.

~SirChangeling

True Life: Apparently I’m a Grown Ass Woman

I noticed something on my birthday, April 3rd. Despite turning 25, I don’t feel, or rather I don’t see myself as an adult. In fact ever since I turned 18 I never see myself as an adult. I always feel like a child in this strange body. I’ve asked friends if they ever feel as though they are trapped in a body that isn’t their own, not in a transgender way, but as a “yo-this-body-doesn’t-fit-my-age.” Friends have informed me that no they do not feel that way. I let Birth Giver know, and asked if it was part of having Trisomy X, plus being on the Autism Spectrum, she said it is possible.

The event that gave me the epiphany:

~FLASHBACK~

T’was the evening of Monday April 3rd, this vision takes place at a Shaw’s grocery store. All I wanted was a toy in the 75 cent machine. The toy was called “Dogs in Disguises” Despite already having one- Diablo, a white dog disguised as the devil- I wanted to see what my chances were of getting a different one. I put three quarters in the machine and turned. CLICK. Open the flap, no toy. WTF! Shit, now I have to go get my refund of 75 cents. When this happens at Hannaford they give me my refund of 75 cents not problem, it has happened more than once so the workers at Hannaford know the drill. However Shaw’s did not know the drill. The workers at Shaw’s told me they don’t control the toy machines, since they’re controlled through a vendor. I know this, I just want my 75 cent refund. Lady from customer service followed me back to the scene of the crime, aka where robots ate my money. She asked a bagger what to do in this situation, he said he didn’t know, page the manager? Manager was paged, after a few more back and forth conversations, I was finally able to get my 75 cent refund. First I had to fill out a form, because of course I did. I put my preferred last name “Sir-Potato” since the whole ordeal was ridiculous. While this was happening, Birth Giver and her bf were wondering what was taking me so long. In the car ride back Birth Giver said from her point-of-view it was looking like ‘better give this grown ass woman her 75 cents back before shit goes down!’ Oh. This explains the reaction of the workers at Shaw’s, see I saw everything as, ‘humans are being rude! Robots ate my 75 cents, please just give me my refund and I’ll be on my way.’ This whatever it is, also explains the reaction from the bagger and cashier when I was offered the entire roll of stickers at Trader Joe’s one time. IT ALL MAKES SENSE! HUMANS SEE ME AS A GROWN ASS ADULT! SO OF COURSE THEY’RE GOING TO GIVE ME WEIRD GLARES, WHEN I DO WEIRD SHIT.

~END FLASHBACK~

Since this power of knowledge has absorbed my mind, I of course have been reliving so many embarrassing memories, all of them are when I’m trying to fall asleep. So I’ll be up at night fighting my past memories, it’s difficult to fight them alone, which is why I’m so grateful that Boobsie comes running out of nowhere, to help calm me down. I usually fall asleep petting his fluffy belly, since I am allowed to do so. I also tend to wake up, with my hand still on his fluffy fur.

I think it’s interesting when I let other humans know that I am on the Autism Spectrum. They don’t believe me at first, but why would I lie about that? I’m not a believable liar, I would test lies out on a nosey neighbor, (made up relatives died) I mean there was that one time I convinced an elderly couple that Birth Giver named me Potato when I was born, because when I popped out of her I was such an ugly child. I have no idea how I was able to keep such a still face when telling them this, because every time I retell the memory I am cracking up. I bet it’s because of my great acting…which is like the acting in porn. Cringe worthy. I know I can’t act, which is why I’m always surprised when someone believes a lie. Am I learning how to properly lie? Or am I just magical? Probably magical, I am a changeling after all!

Photo time!

A teddy bear dog (Orey) snuggling a gay leather daddy teddy bear (Bun Bun):

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Boobsie:

hugs!

He’s giving me hugs!

sent to Lucas

I sent this picture to Strange Danger to wish him luck on his shift one night.

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I had some poo on my thumb.

Whenever I do or say something questionable, I tell myself “I’m an adult!” As though to make whatever I just did seem totally acceptable.

~SirChangeling

Meet the Members of my Rock Band!

There seems to be a confusion about my Rock Band. They aren’t a band in the sense that they play instruments or sing, they’re a band as in they band together. My rocks are there for each other and me. Each time I pick up a rock I needed to find it for some reason. I’ve had friends help name my rocks as a way to help me keep connected.

1 .Bob the Boulder: It was late fall 2015, I don’t remember 2015 that great. 2015 was as if my mind was on pause, so my body just operated on its own. I think I had so much shit happen to me in 2014, that I had to block out 2015 so I wouldn’t have more shit piled on. The last 6 months of 2014 I had multiple humans abandon me during the time I needed them the most, these were human who I thought were my friends. I realize now it was for the best, unfortunately I wasn’t able to realize this sooner. During fall 2015 I was at my worst, my closest friends lived states away, I couldn’t open my door to greet SMiFF like in college. Every time I walked to work I would pass this rock on the side of the road, I would give it that head nod, the ones that humans give to each other as a greeting. You know the one that doesn’t involve talking, aka the best kind of greeting. One day before leaving Potato Manor I grabbed a reusable cloth bag, when I walked up to Bob I picked it up and put it inside my bag. Bob ended up being half covered in dirt. So basically I dug up a huge rock before going to work. When I walked into the cafe I remember Ms. Rapture asking me what was weighing down my bag I had draped over my arm. I told her I found a new friend in the form of a rock. I texted Science Lesbian asking for rock puns, she delivered with Bob the Boulder along with a few other options. My former coworkers agreed Bob the Boulder was the best name.

2. Kk the llama Rock: Stranger Danger texts “K” to me all the time. Yes, he’s one of those humans who texts me pictures of decapitated bodies. (OK looks like a sideways stick figure) I texted him asking to name my pet rock, he responded with “Kk” I responded with “Ll” because our conversations are amazing. Llama was the first word to come to mind that started with “Ll” According to Stranger Danger I named Kk the Llama Rock in homage to him, since he had no part in naming my rock.

3. Squire Spud: This one is in the shape of a potato. I’m Sir-Changeling aka Potato, so of course I have a squire! A friend named this one for me.

4. Peaches: Birth Giver found this rock on one of her hikes. She suggested I name it Crystal because of the way it looked. That was such a generic name, I asked SMiFF who informed me the name Peaches was better.

5. Melvin: This rock showed itself to me when I was leaving the Lake House aka my grandparents’ summer home. Melvin Village, New Hampshire on Lake Winnipesaukee is the location of the Lake House. I never refer to the Lake House as my second home, it has always been my grandparents’ summer home, saying that it’s my second home never felt right to say. In my dreams the Lake House always appears as a safety base right before a nightmare starts.

6. Shit Nugget: I was walking to meet Birth Giver at a gas station so she could then drive me back to Potato Manor. (This was during when I was in CKA, the sous chef would be making up lies to stir up unnecessary drama in the class. Which gave me unnecessary panic attacks that resulted to locking myself in a bathroom trying to calm down enough to get through the day.) I was angrily stomping my way to the gas station, I was upset that this disgusting human was able to get to me this much. I found a rock at the same moment I shouted “She’s such a shit nugget!” I then squeezed my rage into said rock, my anger was able to go through me into the vessel of a rock. With the help of my classmates and Chef I was able to succeed in blocking out her drama. Having my Chef say “it’s okay to say no” was a huge relief for me. I never told the sous chef “no” but I said it in a different way, which apparently was me sassing her in a way that made her livid. My classmates told me to keep on sassing this human, since it gave them life. Shit Nugget is that reminder that I won’t let some disgusting human get me down.

7. King Momo: I had this rock that was without a name, so I posted on Facebook that I needed a name for a rock, in exchange I would send noms to the winner. A friend I’ve known since Elementary School provided the name “King Momo” she also told me to look up the meaning behind the name.

8. Petunia: While visiting my brother’s girlfriend’s parents on a mini vacation with Birth Giver we were tourists at Plymouth Rock. Along the shops in the area there was a small one with Harry Potter merchandise. I found a rock outside the shop, deciding to name it Petunia rather than Plymouth (the name that was suggested).

9. Lucifer aka Luci: On my way to bother…uh I mean drop off noms, visit former coworkers, and try to free the major guilt that was associated with my former work place. I found a rock. I gave my 2 weeks notice in late February 2016, however I wasn’t able to free my guilty conscious from the flashbacks until January 2017. Flashbacks of having to leave all the time because of anxiety attacks from register trauma. End 2014 to early 2015 not only was I severely depressed, but I was terrified of an assistant manger who worked there. I couldn’t work the closing shifts on Mondays, because the fear this assistant manager gave me was so strong. I was convinced he would kill me from the day I met him. Saying this out loud seemed so ridiculous I kept it bottled up.

Whenever I had to work a shift I would prep myself 2 hours before leaving Potato Manor. Of course even then I wasn’t able to complete my shift, I would get to work act like I got this, last about 2 hours, end up having to flee from register because I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I never really forgave myself for letting down coworkers as well as the other managers who thought they could count on me. I would mentally beat myself up about this night after night. At one point after holding in 5+ hours worth of anxiety this assistant manager told me “we don’t need you anymore” before taking my register drawer to go count it in the office. I broke down in front of everyone. I somehow was able to tell the head manager that I needed to leave right then. I couldn’t look him in the eye as I told him this. I was so broken from such extreme mental issues.

I kept hoping the flashbacks would stop once that assistant manager left. Obviously that didn’t happen, instead increased panic attacks happened. I thought about leaving to find a different job, but whenever I would look at job ads I would have so much anxiety that I could never click on the job description. When I finally was able to leave the job I had the most guilt from the feel like I was abandoning everyone who counted on me. Especially the head manger. I never really felt as though I deserved the amount of respect he gave me. I stayed as long as I did because I couldn’t bring myself to leave, I felt as though I owed him so much for all he did for me. That’s a weird sentence, I feel I owe a person for treating me with respect.

I would always bring noms as a peace offering to the Friendly’s Ghost in hopes that maybe I could be free from this fear. It took until January 2017 to be free from the traumatic flashbacks. I invited myself to a work meeting, I told humans it was for the free food, when really it was so I could soothe my guilty conscious. I skipped one of those work meetings in 2014 because of the insane amount of fear due to that one manager. Lucifer seemed like a good name for this rock, which is tiny by the way. This tiny rock which stands for so much fear I’ve gone through.

10. Tootie: I told Birth Giver that while at Goodwill I farted since another customer was getting too close to my personal space. My grandmother told me she taught me well. There was a rock near Birth Giver’s car as she picked me up that day.

11. Herbert: I dunno, I found it while shopping at outlet stores. I thought the name was odd, like my rock.

12. Stirling Hatred: SMiFF gave me the name as we were reminiscing inside jokes from college. I had a rock that needed a name, after a fit of giggles it was decided.

13. Francis
14. Reese
15. Malcolm
16. Dewey:
SMiFF loves Malcolm in the Middle I had 4 rocks which needed names.

17. Wanker: it’s fun to say…

18. Fredlicia: I walked into my former work place with noms as well as the announcement that I found a new rock, who needs a name. Fred was a name that was suggested, someone else told me to add “licia” to the end. Thus Fredlicia!

19. Global Warming: This one is in the shape of Vermont. Winter 2016-2017 has been crazy.

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Rock Band Members 1-18 in no order whatsoever.

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#19 Global Warming

~SirChangeling

Oh…

When I was in middle school I would tell new friends that I was shy at first, but once I opened up more I was alright. I continued to say that through high school, some friends would chime in saying that I wasn’t shy whatsoever. I remember having this embarrassed feeling engulf me, but still manage to continue on with the conversation, despite the awkwardness inside my head.

ERMAHGERD IT WAS ANXIETY! I HAD EXTREME ANXIETY THEN I JUST DIDN’T KNOW THE WORD!

So I guess those humans were right with saying that I was not shy. I didn’t use the correct word to describe myself. I should’ve said “I have extreme anxiety, that will turn into crippling anxiety in the future.” I recently had the epiphany: ‘oh, I’ve always had anxiety. I just didn’t know it at the time.’ Along with the extreme anxiety meant the attacks that followed when too many emotions would happen at once, or I didn’t know how to deal with my anxiety so of course I would burst. I would always try to have my attacks at my house, rather than in public. Or a bathroom if I could find one. Which is odd because the feeling of being trapped is not one that I enjoy. So going to a bathroom hiding myself behind closed doors and walls probably isn’t the greatest coping skill. I say “isn’t” because I still do it.

I was told growing up that my anxiety attacks, panic attacks and anger attacks were all temper tantrums. So that’s what I would tell others that I had. I remember the looks I received back all made me seem as though I was pathetic. I bet if I changed the wording I wouldn’t have had those looks given to me. Which is stupid.

I don’t remember my first panic attack, but I do remember a bunch of them. The outcome of all of them were horrible. If I was around my Abuser whenever one would happen, I would get a hard smack across my face followed by yelling such as “STOP CRYING! IF YOU DON’T STOP CRYING I WILL SMACK YOU ACROSS YOUR FACE SO HARD YOUR NOSE WILL BLEED! THAT WILL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!” The reason for that response was because I was upset that a science project didn’t work the way I wanted it to at home. When my cousin showed me how to do it, it went smoothly. So I slammed my hand on the wall and stomped away crying very upset. Only to have him follow me to my room and yell at me. Birth Giver didn’t do anything to stop him. Maybe that’s why I’m terrified to have panic attacks in front of others?

(Birth Giver asked me if I call him Sperm Donor, since she’s Birth Giver. I told her his name is Abuser)

I have to stop this post now, because I work at 7am today. It’s 5:33am currently so I need time to calm down the swirling flashback memories.

~SirChangeling

Is December Over Yet?

I’ve been trying my best just to get through December, I’m not sure how well that’s going, because I just want to live in my bed and never leave. My bed is very comfy, as well as warm (I love my heated mattress pad) plus there’s usually a cat or a dog on my bed at any given moment. For example, Orey is snoring next to me.

My depression becomes increasingly worse throughout the winter, and in December it just feels extremely painful and difficult to do anything. Holidays always give me major anxiety, not that I need it with my daily crippling anxiety…I’ve been dreading xmas 2016 since xmas 2015. I don’t see the point of the holiday I’m not religious, and I don’t see the need to visit extended family or Skype even. I told my Birth Giver in November 2015 that I don’t want to see my extended family for at least 5 more years. I saw them this past summer. Birth Giver told me that she misses going down to NJ to visit family each year, because xmas time is the best with seeing family and whatnot. Going to NJ was always a hassle for me. Long car ride, seeing family for too long, not being able to escape to my room for safety. I would be in a guest room, but that’s not my room, and foreign rooms don’t have that much safety feeling. Plus xmas time was very stressful growing up. My abuser aka my dad would always make putting up the tree the worst thing ever. I remember there was always yelling, and I would end up crying and running away, sometimes I would be slapped for “talking back” or trying to explain my side of things through tears and snot. I’m extremely thankful that my parents got a divorce when they did. I wish it was sooner though, I remember calling my brother one night, he was away at college. I was crying telling him how terrified I was that our parents were yelling, I was afraid that our dad would come into my room and hit me. So I was hiding in my closet, hoping to be invisible.

I have daddy issues, along with other issues. I suppose that’s why I have a love for morbid dark humor.

My allergist appointment showed that I am not allergic to dairy, instead my crippling anxiety convinced me that I was. So from the end of April-beginning of December I was convinced that I was allergic to dairy because of my anxiety. Life with dairy again has been good, skim milk is delicious! I missed the taste of skim milk. Cheese is a wonderful thing. The carrot cupcakes at my work are extremely flavorful!

As I write this post, I’m very out of it, my depression is bad, I’m lonely all the time, I have ptsd flashbacks and nightmares when I sleep, so I don’t want to sleep, but I need to sleep. To make matters worse I stopped visiting former coworkers, because every time I would visit this one fucker would remind me how last winter I had an anger attack and threw a dishpan at him. Needless to say I had so much guilt bubbling inside me, I was afraid to go back to the cafe, I was afraid to face my former coworkers. Anger attacks are the worst for me, I don’t have control over my body or actions. I don’t like having these types of mental breakdowns in public, so to know that a bunch of former coworkers saw me like that, I don’t feel safe going back. Chances are I’m going to be reminded how I threw a dishpan at someone. I was told I’m never going to live that down. My therapist mentioned how I need to forgive myself for that moment, and I thought I did, but now I’m not sure. I told myself that he deserved it, because that night he was being a real jerk, hiding my drink on me, untying my apron, being obnoxious to a ticking time bomb he had it coming. Then to remind me (once my mental health was getting better) how unstable and broken I was. I just feel like crying all the time, sometimes tears don’t run down my face, my eyes hurt too much to create the relief of tears. (Bobo is sitting in my lap purring, since he knows I’m upset. Orey is still next to me snoring.)

I usually reread my posts, take out all the times I typed “and” swap it for a different word, but I can’t do it this time. I forgot what else I was going to put in this post. Despite how difficult this month is the rest of my year has been excellent. I’m trying to stay positive, so sending dank memes to Science Lesbian, Queersaders, SMFF, and Stranger Danger. As well as avoiding my former work place, which has been hard because I miss seeing the other employees…but for my mental health I can’t go there for awhile.

15725987_1692807790744829_1839735425_oDerpy smile in this photo. Bobo bought me this huge can of pumpkin that was on clearance. So now I have 12 cans of pumpkin puree and a massive can of pumpkin puree.

Life is difficult this season, but I do know I have friends, humans, and animals that do care about me.

~SirChangeling

Boobsie da Norwegian Forest Cat: Anxiety Healer

Yesterday I went to a Walmart for some shopping, I survived the holiday crazy. The mission to go there was because Boobsie needed a carrier, since on Tuesday he is going for a checkup at the vet. I succeeded with buying a carrier for my baby, despite having a massive headache due to the lack of caffeine. I didn’t have any coffee in the morning and it seems I’ve become addicted to caffeine…again. I suppose it’s one of those addictions that can’t be helped.

I read that I needed to slowly introduce Boobsie to his carrier, so that evening I tossed some treats onto the bedding for him to explore. I then tossed in a bag of catnip, and brought out the red dot. So Mr. Boobaloo could defeat that. After sitting at the end of my bed just staring into space, he decided that kneading my warm blanket (right out of the dryer) was a good time to fall asleep. Boobsie didn’t start out as my baby, but he claimed me as his owner, so now he is my baby. As I write this post, he is asleep in my arms…purring.

Winters are difficult for me, no motivation to do anything. I’ve been writing to do lists for myself everyday that have “Blog post?” written, but it’s difficult to even start writing. When I open up Google Chrome my home page is my blog, but finding the want to start typing seems impossible. I’m sleeping the whole day, but wide awake at night. During the night is also when I find flashbacks tend to show themselves on repeat. I can’t do anything about them since it’s from the past, so I just have to watch them go by. I can’t do anything to help my past self.

Last night I had another anxiety attack, from a flashback or upcoming event, I don’t remember which. I ended up deep breathing to help calm me down. That and petting Boobsie who turned around so his purring face was right up close and personal with mine. He was kneading my blanket, so his loud purrs helped calm me down. He really is my baby.

Fun Fact: I told Boobsie to bring me a squirrel after I let him out into the wilderness. The next day Birth Giver told me she found a decapitated squirrel in our front yard. I was told to stop requesting gifts from our cat, or else Birth Giver will put them in my room.

I usually don’t plan out what my blog posts are going to be about. I just let the words flow from my mind, down my arms through my fingers and onto the keypad of my laptop. Then boom there’s a blog post that has happened. So this one happened to be about how my Boobsie helps calm down my anxiety so of course I am going to work hard so my kitty has a better life.

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I tossed in some of his kitty treats so he could explore his new carrier.

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He just defeated the red dot.

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Staring off into space. I paused Salem on Netflix to be entertained by my kitty.

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Someone found where I keep his catnip and treats…

 

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He moved, making this picture blurry, but look how tall he is.

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Very Important Photo.

~SirChangeling

Insert Cliché Title Because Of The Holiday

Quick Update: The gingerbread cookies at my work are not made with shortening, instead they are made with butter. Which explains the extreme pain I was in 2 days after I ate the cookie.
“Was the cookie good?” One of the bakers asked me, after she informed me they had butter.
“Yes.”
“Well there is your dairy intake for the rest of the year.”

I’m surprised with my self control of not eating any of the noms from work…then again I know how much pain I would be in and that’s not worth it. The last time I was proud of my self control, was when I was 14, a girl told me to beat her with a tennis racket because she knew I hated her. I have anger issues, but to be able to tell her to “fuck off” and just walk away instead of beating the shit out of her is one of those moments that I still have no idea how I was able to choose to walk away.

….Anyway Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for my Soul Mate in Friend Form. I love how I can send her offensive dank memes, since we share the love for dark humor.

I am also thankful for the Science Lesbians, and the younger sister of Psychology Lesbian, and the four of us become Queersaders.

Stranger Danger, who never reads my blog, gets a huge amount of my thankfulness. Seeing how he met me when I was off my meds (again) at an extreme low point of my life, but stuck with me and is there for me….I’m not crying, you’re crying.

To my other close friends, I’m thankful for you too, I just don’t want to type it all out…mainly because it doesn’t matter, since they know who they are and how much they mean to me.

~SirChangeling

 

I Have Not Abandoned This Blog! Here’s An Update As Proof.

I have been at my job as a baker’s assistant for over a month now, it’s been amazing so far. I actually want to go to my job to do my job duties. At other jobs it was just to see coworkers, as well as get those hours to receive a paycheck. However now the paycheck is a bonus! This job has everything I love to do: washing dishes, prepping, learning tips & tricks, plus cutting out cookies! I’m not baking anything, but I’m prepping cookies on the baking sheets, then once they are cooled I’m putting them on trays to display for the customers. Plus limited customer interaction!!

I’ve noticed that I’m losing some weight again, which yes can be seen as exciting, but not when it means that my jeans slowly fall down when I walk. My biggest annoyance with losing weight is that clothes don’t fit as well as they once did. Two years ago when this happened I decided to eat McDonalds for a couple meals to gain the weight back so my jeans would fit again. When I mentioned this to coworkers I received wtf looks. I can’t wear belts, because I am allergic to the nickel on the metal. I’ve tried the belts without the metal, but they don’t hold my pants up.

I found out that there are two cookies at my job that I can eat, because they are dairy free! The French Macaroons and the gingerbread people. How I found out I can eat the gingerbread people:
“Do you like gingerbread cookies? I don’t.” My boss asked.
“Yes, if there is not dairy in the cookies I can.”
*I looked at the recipe and saw that they were made with shortening and not butter!*
“Not that I need a reason to eat a gingerbread cookie, but what was the reason you asked?”
“They taste fresh enough right?”
“Yes. They’re delicious.”

A couple weeks ago an order was placed for 1,000 gingerbread people not decorated for the Saturday after Thanksgiving. We had made over 500 cookies when the customer claimed she never confirmed the order. So at the bakery there are 4 boxes of cookies in the freezer, in each box is around 11 bags with a dozen cookies in each bag.

The other day I was told pictures of my cat have been filling up a friend’s Facebook news feed. I told them they should be honored.

It’s currently 6am at the moment, so I need to finish my tea, get dressed and ready to leave. I need to be at work to clock in at 7am. I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, due to waking up from being too hot or too cold or both at the same time. Yesterday it was 58 degrees, I was freezing cold, but too cold to get out from my blanket burrito to put on my winter jacket. I have obnoxious allergies.

Oh here’s some examples why I carry googely eyes with me:

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~SirChangeling

R.I.P Winnie, You Deserve All The Pumpkin and Peanut Butter.

As I walked into the kitchen to put my dirty tiny mug, that once was over filling with dairy free chocolate chips, into the sink since the dishwasher is clean and my energy to empty it is not present, I see a dog dish soaking in soapy water. This is when it hits me. She’s gone. I leave the kitchen to see Orey, a round (from too many treats) Bichon Frise Shih Tzu mix lying on the back of the couch looking out the window into the night. Bobo is curled up on a chair, his fuzzy little paw is hiding his face. The room is silent otherwise. I sat down on the couch looked up at Orey. “You miss her, don’t you? She’s gone.” I whispered to Mr. Rollie Pollie. I got up because I really had to pee, my bladder really knows how to ruin the moment. Orey followed me, because of his fomo. (fear of missing out) I went back into my room, to see Orey aka Hoover licking my floor (he’s a weird dog.) He’s having trouble getting on beds, so I picked him up he smooshed onto my blanket.

October 26, 2016 at 1:30pm is when my birth giver and I drove Winnie, a mutt of unknown breeds, to the vet to be put down. Winnie, or as I called her, Winifred Johnson had many nicknames, however her given name was Winnipesaukee as in Lake Winnipesaukee in Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. She responded best to Winifred Johnson though…or Winnie.

The past couple months had been really hard for her, she was in pain, she wasn’t taking her pills, (forcing a dog to take pills is not something that wants to be dealt with) she was having trouble pooping, but more recently every time she would get up she would yelp in pain. Waking up around 2am because your pet is crying in extreme pain, because her paws hurt, is hard to listen to. It’s hard the first time as well as the last time.

Winnie spent her last day, asleep on a feather blanket I have in front of my space heater. Outside it was in the low 30’s, inside my room the temperature was near 70 degrees. I called my birth giver a couple times, the first time to let her know that Winnie had tried to get up, but ended up crying in such a high pitched yelp that my chest hurt because of having to listen to her in pain, but not being able to do much. I put her pills in some turkey flavored wet dog food, she inhaled that as if it was her last meal. Winnie always was a little turd about taking pills, so for her to eat the food as fast as she did, told me that she knew something was wrong. You could see it in her eyes as well. She took her time going down the 6 steps to get to the front door so I could take her outside to go the bathroom. Having to pause at each step for a couple moments, waiting for the pain to pass enough so she could just walk down till the next one.

I called my birth giver, in tears saying how much Winnie was in pain, she couldn’t walk down the steps, she was yelping every time she moved her paws when lying down. It was painful for me to watch. I couldn’t handle watching her in so much pain. I took a shower, but I don’t know how much of the water was from the shower head, or how much was from my eyes.

It’s not a secret that I didn’t connect with Winnie. We rescued Winnie two weeks after our first dog, Bailey died of cancer on July 3, 2004. There wasn’t much time for mourning Bailey, because there was a new dog that needed love and attention. Winnie lived on the streets for at least the first year of her life. For the next 12 years Winnie was with us, I didn’t want her to be with us, since it felt too much like she was replacing Bailey. It hurt seeing her be in the house, sleeping on our beds. Bailey used to be there. That was Bailey’s spot. Winnie was so malnourished, but we fattened her up…or rather made her a nice healthy weight. I was at a summer camp when my family brought Winnie home, so I didn’t have a say in whether or not she stayed. It didn’t matter though.

I used to go on long walks with Winnie around my neighborhood. I stopped though because a golden retriever attacked us one day. The dog was behind an electric fence, except the fence wasn’t working that day, the owner didn’t realize the dog was outside, so when Winnie and I were walking by and the dog was charging at us, I kept thinking the fence would stop it. Instead this big dog was coming right at us. I tried to protect Winnie by putting myself between the two dogs, since Winnie was never great with other dogs, living on the street she was probably in a lot of fights. Winnie however kept trying to protect me by putting herself in between me and the other dog. The owner eventually noticed and came after his dog, trying to tell me that I should bring my dog back for another meeting in a closed area. I lied and said sure, so he would let me leave. Winnie and I didn’t go on our long walk that day, we turned back and walked home. That was the last time I went on a long walk in my neighborhood. I also developed a fear of big dogs.

It’s surprisingly hard to write about Winnie and memories about her. I was telling Science Lesbian earlier how I was okay about having to put Winnie down. I’m pretty sure that was just the denial taking over, I’m excellent at avoiding my feelings for things. Ask SMFF she’ll agree and tell you how I won’t admit that I love someone until it hurts to breathe because thinking of said human hurts me. When I finally admit it out loud, SMFF is there to tell me “So you’re finally admitting it. That took longer than necessary.”

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One of the last photos of Winnie. She was kind enough to pose for me.

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Orey and Winnie snuggling this morning, my space heater is behind them so they were nice and cozy.

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There was a dog outside, I let the dogs bark at the outside dog. It seemed like the right thing to do.

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Winnie would always sit like this, she thought she was human, or at least a lap dog. She was neither, but there was always room for Winnie.

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If Winnie wasn’t sitting like a human, she would be sitting and looking outside the window.

All of those pictures were taken today, on Winnie’s last day. It sucks losing a pet, and it hurts too much to write anything more.

~SirChangeling

P.S. Thank you to the vet who called her a turkey, she was a turkey, even though she was a dog, and the dog is not a turkey, the turkey is a turkey, you turkey.

Another thank you to the waitress at Denny’s, you were extremely nice, even before my birth giver told you we just had to put our dog down. I wish we could give you a $100 tip, but unfortunately we can’t. The Rudolph cup, with antlers and a red nose, was what I needed to help make me smile.

A third thank you to the elderly man who walked by our table at Denny’s. He farted quite loudly. I laughed.

And as always thank you to Science Lesbian and SMFF, for being there for me, without judgement.

When a baker misses a spot sweeping, I point it out…because I’m the assistant baker.

“How is molasses spelled?”
“M-o-l-asses.”
I recently got a job! I’m a baker’s assistant! This is a perfect job for me, I’m excited to go to work, and learn more about working in a bakery. For once I actually feel like I deserve getting paid for my job. It’s an unreal feeling, with my past 3 jobs I never felt like I deserved the paycheck. That could be because of my depression and other mental illness surprise box issues, but looking back I still don’t think I deserved getting the money for the jobs. I put a lot of hard work into my jobs, but I never felt noticed enough for the hard work….probably because of severe depression…

Today marks that I have had my blog for a year! It’s a nice accomplishment, I never thought that I would actually have followers. I started the blog as a way to escape both my mind and reality. It can be so noisy in my mind, and reality can be exhausting, so by blogging, I figured I can rant my thoughts out to anyone that wanted to listen. Watching the number of “humans creeped on this blog” increase has been very exciting! Having friends tell me that my blog has helped them, is incredible. Just what the whaaaat? Really? Whoa. I’ve been told that I have a great voice in writing, but my birth giver told me that, it was getting to the point where I was questioning if she was just saying that since she birthed me? Then friends were telling me that I’m a really great writer, but still I was questioning, is it because they’re my friends so of course they tell me my writing is great…I really am my biggest critic, for writing as well as the baked noms I make.

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I was able to take this picture featuring Bobo. This is what success looks like, it has taken me at least 8 years or so to get a photo like this with my world leader. He’s not a fan of photos, but he was on my lap sleeping when I decided to try once more. He ran off after this photo, but there was about 6 tries before this magical photo was created.

I’ve seen so many memes about how 2016 has been a horrible year, but I strongly disagree. I don’t want to say that I’m happy, because I will end up jinxing myself somehow…so I’m a strong content. I still have days where my depression is stronger, or my anxiety has a surge, so deep breathing doesn’t decrease the attacks, but for the most part I’m doing alright.

One of my strong complaints at the moment is that my allergy to dairy is obnoxious. I work in a bakery, 3 days a week for 5 hours. So that being said I’m surrounded by butter, milk, creamer, sour cream, cheeses, and so much dairy! I wear gloves, I’m washing my hands, I’m changing my gloves constantly, and yet I’m still having to flee to the bathroom because of the pain I’m in. Which usually comes with the anxiety of being scared of what if I have to give up this job? I then tell myself: “Fuck that noise!”

I worked earlier today, so that meant I had to wake up around 5:30am so I could arrive at the bakery a few minutes before 8am (when I had to clock in) I clocked out around 1:20pm, when I arrived back to Potato Manor (my house) I flopped on my bed and soon passed out. It’s exhausting work, but I love it so much. Plus that much interaction with humans tires me out. I am an introvert, so I need time to recharge after being in public. Which means I grab some snacks, something to drink, my baby…aka MacBook Pro, wait for Bobo to take up a good chunk of my queen size bed, and just relax. If something is too far for me to reach, well that sucks for me. I’ll try to parkour it, by seeing how far I can stretch to get it without having to leave my bed, but also not dying since the floor is lava.

The best way to hang out with my friends is sitting near each other on our phones, computers, reading books, just relaxing in each other’s company. My SMFF and I will sit in the same room and send dank memes or funny videos to each other on our phones. I love being next to a friend when they are reading or on their computer, or if I’m really lucky I get to watch them play video games. I love watching my friends play video games, it’s like listening to someone talk about something they love. It’s wonderful.

I’m exhausted still…but I wanted to do a blog post today because of it being a year ago I started this blog.

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I made this meme a while ago.

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A sleeping Trash Panda…aka me with makeup on that I forgot to take off.

~SirChangeling