the jmeoww diaries: V.13

As I sit here typing, the subject of this blog post is howling, howling for attention. She already took a swipe at my arm and I am losing blood as we speak. Hopefully we get through this post before I pass out...

At the beginning of the month I got the dreaded email reminder that it was time for her annual check-up and her flea medicine injection. The vet also sends a ton of specials and coupons and I always check the fine print to see if it says excludes jmeoww gee. We made the appointment and I left the game plan up to Justin, because when it comes to my baby meow I let her run my life, obviously. 

We made the decision to skip the sedatives completely. Because the act of attempting to give them to her stresses all of us out so entirely much that we all nearly break-up with each other. When it was GO TIME, he went on the patio to our storage closet and as soon as he touched the carrier and it made the faintest sound her tailed puffed up and she started distress howling. Because clearly we were going to kill her. I very carefully picked her up by the scruff of the neck and shoved her fatass into the carrier, and off they went. I remained home because my stress feeds her stress and I was already in tears by the time they were out the door. 

I sat with my phone in my lap just in case Justin sent a distress signal. I listened for ambulances in the distance. But 45-minutes later they walked through the door (and I had the bath ready for her because she is traditionally a peepants at the vet). Beyond some minute meow poops in the carrier, she was fine! Tweaked, but fine! I picked her up making sure to avoid the ass region and dropped her in the bath and she just sat there, totally defeated. After some drying by me, I let her go so she could hide and completely reclean herself.

And then the most amazing thing happened. Rather than hide for hours and days, she came back out 30 minutes later and was all WHAT'S UP FUCKERS and laid her still wet self in the middle of our bed. Thanks. We were shocked and also overjoyed because she really has made huge strides and is so much less of a complete derelict than she used to be! SHE IS ALMOST NORMAL. All of Justin's cat whispering is clearly paying off.

That afternoon I required a serious adult nap, which always happens on the couch because hello couch naps are the best. And then the second miracle of our lives happened. Please refer to the photo below and pay no attention to my meaty arm.

You may wonder why you ALWAYS see that blanket. Well, I got it when she was a wee meow and she requires it for mom time. She will literally only have mom time if the blanket is in position.

THREE HOURS YOU GUYS. For three hours she slept on me like that. Maybe I also slept for three hours but that is not the point. And during Superbowl? MORE NAPTIMES ON MOM. I was dying, DYING and in cuddly cat heaven because as you know cuddle time is always intense and never lasts more than 3.5 minutes. I refused to wake her or even move. The only time she would get up was when Justin went into the kitchen because maybe he was getting her cheese or treats or even some toys probably all for her. 

That night she also went on a date, which is probably why she was so tired Sunday. A DATE? Yes, she has a suitor. A HUGE fluffy guy that has been hanging out on the lower patio caterwauling to her. She kept running in and out screeching like a crazy girl on a blind date, which I made a narrative for naturally. They haven't had another date since but I think that her desperation to go out on the patio comes from her deep love for him. Which means we constantly have to sweep up the flower petals that are falling on the patio so she doesn't eat them and vom in my toms again (in other news the flower petal barfing has happened more than once...).

It never ends, the drama. But those two precious days of cuddles made it all worth it. And I do believe my arm needs some neosporin. Until next time, loyal meow fans!

check, check...one-two...CHECK.

HI YOU GUYS! Remember last time I blogged about being on the verge of a mild mental breakdown? I wish I was here to tell you that things have gotten better but in fact they have just gotten weirder. Nothing bad, nothing bad at all. Just things like having feminine flow problems for two weeks straight coupled with the digestive issues that come along with it. Periods AND farting? You've come to the right place, ladies.

And then one time at the gym I took a medicine ball right to the face and busted my lip open (because the trainer was far too busy calling me a giraffe to actually catch the ball like he was supposed to as it was bouncing back up into my face). I didn't cry at the gym because, hello gym patrons. But as soon as I walked through the apartment door and Justin asked how the gym was I started bawling and cried, "I GOT HURT" like a proper two-year old child that couldn't really form sentences. And then jmeoww licked the ice-pack as it was on my face and I just could not even fathom what was going on in my life at that moment.

I haven't felt like myself and I need myself back so I can start kicking ass again. I promise that I won't continue to use this space as a whine-fest however it is my blog and I do what I want for reasons unknown to any of us. I mean really, the point of this post was to tell you that jmeoww licked an icepack that was on my face.

In other, more HAPPY news, I am super excited to announce that I have been chosen as a Real Bride Contributor for Broke Ass Bride. So if I'm not posting here, you can find me there talking all things wedding and being budget savvy. And if I'm not posting there, then someone should probably alert the authorities.

And that basically wraps up yet another non-post post from yours truly. Maybe possibly next week we will have a vet-trip recap for you. If any of us make it out alive...

stuff and things.

You guys, I stressed myself out so bad earlier this week that I have been exhausted ever since.

OH POOR TIFFANY.

I know, I know.

Last week I spent my time OB. SESS. ING. over finding the perfect planner. Like, the perfect planner. With enough pages for my random notes and a folder to keep all of my miscellaneous wedding papers in order. Little did I know that there are 900 million options out there and not one of them worked for me so I took my ass to staples and built my own. A DIY planner, if you will. It's not pretty, so you don't get a picture. It is literally a binder to which I added dividers (with folders to shove all the miscellany in) and then printed my google calendar and a variety of organizing resources that I found online fo' free.

And then I haven't used it since. But I instantly felt better.

THE POINT? you ask. The point is that I am walking a very, very fine line right now between having my shit together and reverting to 2009 Tiffany that suffered from stress-related stomach pains convincing her that she had an ulcer and that she was going to die (not to be confused with 2010 Tiffany that had phantom loin pain and convinced herself that she had kidney cancer and that she was going to die). Obsessing over minor things like THE PERFECT PLANNER is totally a sign that I am nearly crossing that line between normal and insane Tiffany that needs to DO ALL THE THINGS even if it kills her and yes I need to look at the Cartwheel App RIGHT NOW because how else will I know if I can get a deal on cat litter at Target?

And then the crying into the Coors Light bottle on a Tuesday night signals to everyone that, WHOA. Tiffany needs a time out so please put your electronics down right now and don't even worry your tiny little head about anything other than wedding planning and The Walking Dead and whether or not Carl really is the psychopathic child delinquent that you are predicting he will become.

Basically, this is my excuse for being absent once again from this blog. And basically this is my announcement that I cannot be depended on for anything other than my great theories about The Walking Dead and also wedding planning. Even though I printed blog planning sheets for my perfect planner. Maybe once I relax and drink more Coors Light I will actually use them and plan some actual blog action.

But until then, stay classy and sane my friends.

(although, ps - we have a vet trip coming up next weekend so you know, blog content for years...)

freeze! jk please don't.

How is it even possible that weatherpocalypse occurred AFTER my beloved social media guide? Thanks a lot for that, atmosphere. The socials medias are losing their damn minds over this insane weather — only rightfully so for the people experiencing it.

via buzzfeed.

And then you have your Californian assholes like myself that are SWEATING. No, I am not an abnormal sweater-er, but when you wake up and it is 40 degrees out, you dress for 40 degrees not the 78 degrees that you end up spending your day in. We suffer, in our own ways. I am suffering by not being able to wear all of my cute scarves and sweaters that I knew I needed because last January we had our very own weatherpocalypse which required me to wear thermals AND sweaters. And socks with TOMS because that is how I roll. Even though I do that on most normal days due to my suspected poor circulation. The struggle, you guys.

There is a point to this post, I promise. My point is taken from a Facebook status from a cousin of mine that is suffering through this insanity in the Midwest. She said something closely related to: We don't mock your earthquakes, hurricanes, wildfires, and heatwaves!

And then my sweaty heart broke a little bit and I wanted to send every single one of my Midwestern and otherwise abnormally chilly friends a nice toasty and moist sweaty hug to get them through this. Except for the Shitlers because they are having far too much fun in their -16 degree wonderland. Or so snapchat tells me.

But if one more person, JUST ONE spouts the phrase "SO MUCH FOR GLOBAL WARMING" I will literally spew carbon dioxide from my own pores and cause my very own localized climate catastrophe.

Midwestern and otherwise abnormally chilly friends — HANG IN THERE! And don't ever forget how you've been treated when those heat waves come along and we all start bitching about it — we deserve your wrath!

The (un)Official Social Media Guide - 2014

In the last three months alone, I have thought about deleting my Facebook no less than 36 times. Between the hot debate I started over who marriage is actually for, to being crucified for defending my place of work, Facebook is just not fun anymore. It has made people conceited, combative, and ignorant. Yes, ignorant. Because why actually go out and research anything on your own when your cousin Verne is sharing articles that his neighbor Tobias shared? FACEBOOK IS THE GOSPEL.

No, no it isn't.

And beyond the spreading of ignorant opinions, memes, and false news articles, it has given people the belief that it is perfectly acceptable to be an asshole on the internet. Listen, I won't comment on each of the invites to your goddamned Arbonne parties telling you that it is a pyramid scheme if you don't comment on my posts about my place of employment.

Things that we type into a tiny comment box with improper spelling and punctuation? They get misinterpreted and start unnecessary drama. Oh you think my sister was being rude? Girl, please we all know when she's intentionally being rude. THERE WAS A SMILEY FACE FOR SHIT'S SAKE.

But its my Facebook/Twitter/Instagram and I do what I want! Yes, and I have the option to unfriend/delete you and I thank the angels above every day for that. The social media circles that I choose to include myself in should be a place where I feel comfortable sharing photos, life updates, and other things relevant about my life to the friends and family I do not see or speak to often.

So if you are like me, and would like social media to return to the lovely roots that it began with, follow these simple rules.

Share a respectable amount of photos - We love seeing photos of our friends and family! But do they really want to look through all 543 of your engagement photos? 700 of you wedding? Your #OOTD every day? No one has time for that. Choose a selection that best represents your event/yourself and post them. With captions. So we know which flavor of the month that is by your side.

Keep your comments friendly and minimal - You do not have to comment on every single thing that pops up in your newsfeed. And don't leave comments that are mean. Remember, we are all in a safe-sharing zone - not one in which we should have to defend ourselves, EVER. If you don't like something you see in your newsfeed, scroll right past it! And if it really bothers you, send your friend a private message.

Share minimal information - Again with the minimal! Especially concerning financials, am I right? But seriously, we do not need to know every single detail of your relationship or daily activities. Relish in your emotions, privately. No seriously. Try it. You can cry without telling the internet that you are crying. I promise. You can also potty train your child without showing us. You are goddamned right you can!

What happens on social media stays there - Do not, under any circumstances, email, text, or call me about something that you saw on Facebook or Twitter. Chances are, I will see it. Chances are, I scrolled right past it as my eyes rolled back in my head and I said a novena for humanity. Chances are, SHE WAS NOT BEING RUDE GET OVER IT.

If you think it is wrong, then it is - Have you ever thought, "Oh, maybe I shouldn't post that..." THEN DO NOT POST IT. If you think you might be being an asshole, chances are that you actually are. Step away from the keyboard and reevaluate your life.

Do your research - If there is ever an issue you feel strongly about and you would like your friends and family to learn about it, do your research first before sharing! I will never forgive myself for KONY2012. I hopped on that bandwagon faster than I could say "Is that Jason Russell jacking it on a corner?"

And finally, get off of the computer and go do some good! You will not save the world online, no matter how many times you share an article about Obama's communism or a photo of a child with cancer. You are not really helping. You want to help? Go pick up some trash outside. Volunteer somewhere. Donate blood. Just save us all the ass-kissing and don't post photos of it, okay? I don't need to see the needle in your arm.

Easy peasey, right? Give it a try. Report back. Let's make social media circles a safe and happy place again!