Shelter Saturdays

You're welcome.

As some of you might know, I volunteer at a pet shelter on Saturday mornings - the Helmetta Regional Animal Shelter, to be precise.  They recently opened up (not too long before I moved to the area), and already, they're pretty busy.  A "low-kill" shelter (only putting down injured/very ill animals, for those of you who care), they house about 20-30+ dogs and maybe 40+ cats.

I've always wanted a pet, but I haven't had much luck with it.  Now that I live on my own, I'm still concerned about keeping a dog while I'm still in an apartment.  Before I started work, Dillon convinced me to start volunteering at a shelter, with some hope of learning training tips, etc.  Realistically, I do dishes/laundry and help feed the dogs, but in lieu of owning my own dog, this is second best.

Anywho, since I'm surrounded by all this cuteness every weekend, I thought I'd share the wealth a little.

Dudley says, "Helllloooo!"

Dudley is a really big sweetheart.  He's been at the shelter nearly as long as I have, and I've never heard him bark.  He's 2 years old.  I can't imagine why no one has taken him home yet!

This week, there were two beautiful pugs.  I couldn't get them in a shot together, but you'll have to take my word that when they scampered together over to the door for head scratches, it melted my heart. 

Ah, and then there's Lucky (above) and Suzie (below).  These two must have come from the same place, because they've been together as long as I've been at the shelter.  Lucky's a terrier mix, and Suzie is a Chihuahua-Pomeranian.  If I could, I'd take the two of them home in a heart beat.  They're a bit old (9 and 8, respectively), but they've still got plenty of energy (despite looking a little lazy in these pictures!)

Suzie is my little one-eyed princess. You cannot tell me that this would not be the best thing in the world to come home to every day:

A-HAAARRR ME HEARTIES!

On a more serious note, if you do ever plan to get a dog, consider adopting.  As much as I love being around these guys, it does tear at my heart strings a little bit, every time I see this:

Take me home! <3

That's Lottie.  She's a 1-2 year old pit bull.  When you're in front of the cage door, she wags her tail, but otherwise quietly sits and just tilts her head at you, watching in wait.  When you're behind the cage door, she's all cuddles and licks.

Somewhat related, but the other week, I met the mayor of Helmetta while at the shelter.  Allow me to set the scene for you:  whilst in the back room, I'm washing dishes and she (yes, she) is filling up bowls with kibble and wet food.  Very nonchalant, very informal, and both of us looking like we just rolled out of bed.  I had just learned her name, nothing more, and then this fun conversation followed:

-Her:  So, are you in high school?
-Me:  Oh, no.  I actually just graduated from college.

...Mindless chit-chat about the economy and being able to find work...Pause... silence... awkwardness...

-Me:  So... what do you do?
-Her:  Oh... Well... I'm the mayor.
-Me:  ...Oh!

Always the smooth operator.  *Face palm*

To be honest, though, it was really refreshing to see someone in politics humble herself by scooping poop from dog cages.  Granted, Helmetta is a blip on the map of New Jersey, but one still gives credit where credit is due. 

'Til the next.

Joss Whedon's "Dollhouse" - Less Imaginitive Than You Thought

To my loyal friends and readers, first I want to thank you for following me into this foray of hugely random, non-crafty, un-witty writing.  It has been an entertaining affair, and I have thus far enjoyed baring my squiggly insides to you.  However, I am afraid this entry will not be so diverting as usual.  I have recently been burdened with a terrible secret that I feel  I must reveal to you.  To release my soul, I must come clean about something dreadful that has been hidden from society for far too long.

I have often been praised for my ability to pick up new skill sets quickly, not just in school, but also at work, in some arts, and even some physical tasks.  It's not just me.  Many Asians are blessed with the special talent to adapt and form new skills within a short period of time, as long as we are given a basic outline of the necessary milestones. For countless generations, young chinese children have been admired, hated, complimented, criticized for our fortes in mathematics and science. 

Every word of praise is undeserved.  There is nothing special about our unique aptitude for these concrete realms of academia.  There was once a rather demotivating statement put about to remind people of how unremarkable we are becoming:  "In China when you are one in a million -- there are 1,300 other people just like you."  This statistic is actually exaggerated - and flattering.  It's more like 130,000.

Dear readers, if I have led you to confusion, it is only because I fear relating the truth.  But I have stalled long enough, so it is now time to come out and say it:

I am an android with a fully reprogrammable cerebral cortex.

I can sense the incredulity radiating from the other side of screen, but this is not a joke.  Several weeks ago, during a period of increased solar flare activity, a very strange thing happened to me.  For a second or so, my glasses seemed to emit static, and my right ear heard some sort of odd feedback.  Assuming that I was sitting too close to my computer screen, I sat back, closed my eyes for a minute, and then removed my frames to clean the lenses.  Before I replaced my glasses, I noticed it - I could see perfectly.  My vision was 20/20.  And that wasn't all.

Placing my frames to my face, I then realized that there were discrepancies between what I saw when I wore my glasses and when they were off.  I will demonstrate:

Thinking that I had been working too hard, I decided to call it an early night and tried to sleep.  After hours of tossing and turning, I eventually fell into an uneasy slumber.  It wasn't long after, though, that strange noises filled my dreams and disturbing images crossed my subconscious.  Most of them are forgotten.  All I can recall is one distinct phrase:

"Download complete."

The next morning, I was thoroughly distressed.  I wanted to brush everything off as a bad dream, but it was all too real to ignore.  Out of paranoia and curiosity, I set up a hidden camera in my room to watch over my bed while I slept.  For several days, I caught nothing but frames of my sleeping figure.  However, by weeks end, something finally turned up.  What you are about to witness is not for the faint of heart.  This is your last warning to turn away.

THERE.  YOU CANNOT UNSEE THAT.  SOMEONE IS LURKING OVER MY BED.  MY HEAD IS OPEN, AND THERE IS A CABLE HANGING FROM IT. 

Unfortunately, my camera is pretty cheap, but using some editing equipment from work, I've been able to enhance the resolution and glean some info from that computer screen from the doctor/scientist/whatever-the-f**k he/she was. 

The windows don't give an plethora of info, but I have some idea of what they mean.  Ever since I found out what sick things have been going on while I slept, I've not been idle.  It hasn't been easy, but I have been able to find a few key facts.  Since the end of WWII, most of the Chinese/Japanese and some of the Indian population has been biologically retrofitted with data links known cleverly as the "Accelerated Structuring and Intelligence Assimilation Network".  Anyone outfitted with connections to the network can effectively be programmed to learn any skill in about 24 hours after observing someone perform the task for only 1 hour.  From there on, a person's aptitude is triple that of a normal human.

So why haven't Asians taken over the world yet?  Some would argue that they are slowly getting there, but I think I may have uncovered something even more nefarious.  I don't want to say anything definite, but one of my sources has not-so-subtly suggested that another party is pulling the strings of the Asians.  I don't want to point fingers, but why else would the acronym use words from a Western language?

I've probably said too much now, but I couldn't hold back much longer.  Just know that, the next time you see me, if I can no longer calculate dy/dx[sin(x)^2] and only use the words "Me love you long time", you'll know why.

Oh, and the Tiananmen Square incident?  So not what you thought it was about.

Until the next (?)

The Mucus Monster

I was reminded the other day that this did, in fact, start out as a craft blog, and while I have been sort of artsy, sh***y drawings are not the same things as crafts.  Well, I have not been idle in that respect, but I also haven't really been making anything post worthy.  Still, just to prove that my crafting skills are not dead, I thought I'd share a one or two things of note.

First of all - Battenberg cake!  Yum!

Not exactly the most professional work but I'm still learning, and more importantly, it was delicious.  I may be allergic to strawberries, but some things are worth it, and this was one of those things.

Speaking of allergies, it's April, and you know what that means!  The bees are buzzing, the flowers are in bloom, and everyone with hay fever is silently cursing Mother Nature for her cruel artistry.  Some of you who know me have seen me rocking this look more than once:

WHY SO SERIOUS 

Sneezing, coughing, red & itchy eyes, congestion headaches, you name it, I've probably had it.  I've been taking Zyrtec for years, but I have slowly built up some resistance, so I wear a face mask to help block out the pollen.  I joked that I should start a fashion statement and wear different patterns.  Out of boredom, I sewed this little number out of some old plaid fabric, and I must say, I quite like the way it turned out.

But despite my approval, I rarely wear it out.  Why?  Because this is America, not Asia, where this is a totally normal thing.  In my head, I pretend that I could look more like this when donning my mask:

Again, though, this is not Asia, and I do not live in a bishounen manga.  Instead, if my math proves correct, the following is more accurate:

Asian + Face mask = SARS, Avian Flu, Hamthrax,     insert recent pandemic here      ...

Long story short, I try to limit the amount of time that I am seen with my scarlet letter in public before my supposedly-12-hour-relief meds take their sweet time kicking in.  One of these days, though, I'll just say screw it, and then walk into the daylight with my head held high, because it's a lot better than the alternative:

Until the next.

Glasses: An Evolution

Having recently obtained a pair of prescription safety glasses for work, I was reminded of something I had wanted to share from before I started my new job. A bit of a lemonade-from-lemons tale.

I've had to wear glasses since age 9. When I first got them, I was impressionable and pretty low on self-esteem. At the time, I was sure that someone was going to call me four-eyes or point out the fact that I looked like a major nerd. This was not helped by the fact that, being the awkward mofo that I was, chose the most unflattering pair of frames possible.

It got slightly better from there on out. Hints from my sister and browsing through fashion mags helped right the wrongs of my youth, but for awhile, I was still sort of self-conscious of my specs. The saying "Boys don't skip classes for girls who wear glasses" seemed to be permanently burned into my head.

From ages 13-18, my vanity was appeased by the gift of contacts. 8 AM classes in freshman year had me back in glasses real quick, though. Luckily, by that time, I had become much more confident, mature, and well-acquainted with the phrase "Sexy Librarian".

Recently, I had to renew my prescription, for work's sake, and just to make sure everything was copacetic. According to my optometrist, my vision changed, quote, "By about 5%." Since I have no frame of reference, the only thing that meant to me was that I had to get a new pair of glasses. For the first time ever, the office secretary actually guided me through the frame-choosing process, sifting through hundreds of choices to find the ones that best suited me. Wow.

What I ended up with was, for all intents and purposes, these:
And yes, they do make me look a little bit like a hipster. But I'm cool with that. Because I'm secretly a hipster? Possibly. What I'm more excited about is the following:

Anyone who wears glasses or remembers Squints from "The Sandlot" should be familiar with the typical technique for clearing dust from glasses - breathe on it a few times and wipe. While giving my lenses a little "fog-up", I noticed an unusual pattern in the glass, something like this:
At first, I thought it was just my imagination, but after trying it again, the same image appeared. I tried it with my other lens, and lo and behold, there it was again. Even after repeatedly wiping both lenses, the imprint is still there. After some contemplation, I have only come up with one answer:

I am the savior of the Autobots.

(Apologies to all Transformers fans for not knowing how to draw cars and not particularly caring to rectify that. Apologies to everyone else for not being as hot as Megan Fox.)

That, or I will soon be shooting lasers from my eyes. Either way, \m/

Until the next.