Some of you don't know, but about a year ago I was really into buying a Chinchilla. I bought all of the equipment, such as housing, toys, books ("Chinchillas for Dummies"), and about a mile of crawl tubes. Well, at that time, I was leaving for Cincinnati for a conference, so I had to put that idea on hold. However, I had set up all this stuff in my spare bedroom, so that my future Chinchilla would have a room to itself. (her name was going go be Tequila, before the whole "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" thing. That's a mere coincidence.)

Well, after I got back from the conference I was poor from spending so much money on Hotels, food, alcohol at the bars, and shiny new tools. Needless to say, I never got the Chinchilla. But recently, I've noticed that Pinkie and I are not alone in our house. I've found footprints in the dust on things that are too big for, lets say, a mouse or even a rat. They're like this big: |----------------------------| On top of the crawl tubes are droppings that are waaay the hell too big for a mouse. They resemble toad droppings in size, if you are familiar with toad droppings, as I am. It seems like something actually might be living among my Chinchilla equipment. I'm seriously considering setting out a trap...like a cat trap or something to see what I get.

I think it would be really cool to have a squirrel living with me. I just recently looked up Monkeys on the internet to see what kind of evidence monkeys leave behind, but unfortunately I don't think it's one of those. I'm like 100% sure that it's not a mouse or a rat. First of all, I already have the hard evidence (droppings, footprints...), but also, Pinkie is a trained Mouser. Yes. Back when she was but a wee lil pup, we trained her to search out the tree rats outside and kill them. More recently, and what I believe to be much more useful, I taught her to hunt spiders as well. It's quite fascinating to watch this Pit Bull search the shadows, find those eight-legged pieces of hell, and tear the shit out of them before they have a chance to bite me in my sleep, or perhaps crawl down my throat, which I hear so much about.

Anyway, I got a bit off-subject. My point is, Pinkie would have already killed a mouse, rat, or abnormally large spider. I'm sharing a house with an unknown animal who will potentially be my pet chinchilla replacement. I hope it's something cool. I also hope it's not a trained assassin. Pinkie hasn't acquired the skills necessary to kill something like that. I should probably teach her to do that anyway, just in case.

In case you didn't know, if you join Amazon.com, they give you a list of recommended items based on items that you checked out or actually bought. Well, because I checked out a book by comedian Chelsea Handler, I would apparently be interested in a little DVD called "A Strippers Tail: Confessions of a Las Vegas Stripper -by DIAMOND." Well, apparently Amazon.com is trying to tell me something. Also among the recommended items were Whey Protein Powder, Hungry Hank Bowie Knife, and the DVD "Fingersmith", a movie about a young lesbian couple. So, for those of you who don't know, I am a really buff, lesbian hunter. I wouldn't have known this were it not for Amazon.com, and I thank them for outing me to myself.

In other heterosexual news, work was pretty dang tough today. I had to trim a really large Percheron horse out in Omo Ranch, then go down to Auburn to shoe an appaloosa, and then go out Highway 49 to Crystal Blvd. to trim 4 thoroughbreds. All together there were about three hundred miles that I traveled today. It took about four hours of drive time, and I made about three hundred dollars. I don't think it was entirely worth it. And then I get home, all tired and sore (because only one out of all of those horses was well behaved) and I can't take a bath, because there are three spiders in my bathtub. So I had to settle for a shower, which helped, but damn. I'm out of vicoden, all I have is tequila, which I HATE, and I just found out I'm a lesbian, despite my heterosexual tendencies.

And it screamed bloody fuckin murder the whole time! But that's not exactly what I'm writing about here today. There's something that's kind of been bugging me. Not exactly in a bad way, but it's been making me think.

What's the deal with dreams? And what do they mean? There's got to be something to them, because at that point it seems like our sub-conscious is on crack, working a million times harder than it does when we're awake. Like, for example, I know that some of us dream in black and white, some of us in color. Some of us have vivid, clear dreams, while others are more vague. And occasionally I think that sometimes we experience a little bit of everything. I ALWAYS dream in color, and 90% of the time my dreams are very vivid, and extremely lifelike. I even recall past dreams that I've had while I'm in a dream. For example, I have this recurring situation where There's an emergency, usually someone I know is hurt badly, or theres a fire or something. whenever get my cell to call 911, the call won't go through. There's usually some stupid ad that has to play before the operator will pick up (like when you call free 411) or there will be no service, or I'll have to dial the area code before 911, stupid shit like that.

Well, sometimes I'll be in a dream, calling 911, thinking that it's real life. And I'm thinking, at least this isn't a dream, otherwise 911 wouldn't work. And then it still doesn't work, because still I'm in a dream. It's really frustrating, and I don't know what that means! I don't know if it's like there's something in life that I should be able to rely on, but that thing (or person?) keeps letting me down or what.

Also, I don't know if anyone else experiences this or not (I really don't think I'm alone here) but sometimes I'll dream that I throw something, and when it hits, it makes a loud BANG! And in real life, at that same exact time, an apple will fall off the apple tree outside my window and hit the roof with that same loud noise. So theoretically, my subconscious knew that the apple was going to fall, and created a scenario in my dream to account for the noise. I don't know if this is making any sense, or if I sound like some rambling idiot or what. I know it wouldn't be the first time!

So maybe some of you can help me out here, let me know what you think. Tell me you think I'm crazy, or tell me that you experience similar things, or what. Just don't leave me in the dark here!!

I don't really have a whole lot to say today... like nothing in particular has sparked some sort of need to vent via my blog. However, I'm bored. I leave to go to work in 15 minutes. That is really the last place I want to go. I know that 95% of the working public say that about their jobs. Let me tell you why I don't give a fuck about those people. Those people work in air conditioned buildings, and their major grievance is that the people who frequent their place of work (customers, coworkers, etc..) are idiots. What I wouldn't give to be in that situation!!! Don't get me wrong, I love my job, but it gets less lovable when it's 100+ degrees out.

In a typical work day, I show up around 8:00 in the morning in an attempt to beat the heat of the day (I never do, but I try). The client sometimes forgets that I'm coming, and is thus completely unprepared when I arrive. While they go look for their horse who has wandered off to the far reaches of their pasture, I set up my anvil, forge (thing that heats up the shoes... I don't know why no one ever knows that), and get all my tools ready. The client brings the horse up, who's hooves look like they've been mauled by a rabid dog. It's my job to make them pretty again. By now it's reached around 90 degrees outside. Keep in mind, I have to wear jeans, every day, no matter what the weather. I also have to wear heavy leather chaps to protect my legs. So I pull off the old shoes, cut away all the fungus-y stuff from the hooves which smells as if something died, and trim the hooves down to their happy state of normal. During this whole process, the horse has forgotten it's ability to stand on his other three legs, and instead decides to lean all his weight on my 115 pound body. No problem.

NOW I get to stand up (one of my favorite parts of the job. That's the only break we get- standing up for two minutes while we prepare the shoes). I put the shoes in the forge, and turn it on. The forge quickly reaches it's peak temperature of 2200 degrees. Yes, two thousand two hundred degrees. When the shoes are at an orange heat (much hotter then red hot) I pull them out, shape them with a massive hammer and attempt to get them to match the foot with EXACTLY a dimes width of space sticking out from the heels. Yeah. Try that sometime. Then, when the shoe has cooled down to a black heat (but is still around 800-900 degrees) I stick it on the horses hoof to smoke the fit. And it smokes.... a lot. I ALWAYS accidentally inhale the smoke. Always. So I wait until I can breathe again, quench the shoe in some water, and nail it on the hoof. If I'm really lucky, the nails sticking out of the hoof do not pierce my skin. If I'm LUCKY. I repeat that on the other three feet, with the owner breathing down my neck the who time, trying to convince me that they know how to do my job better than I can.

So, in conclusion, while you are wasting away behind your counter, desk, classroom, whatever, know that I'm out there risking bodily harm to keep shoes on our country's horses. Yeah, bitch.

Some of you know that I never shower alone. Don't get too excited just yet- it's not what you think. There has been generations of spiders that live above my shower head, and through time, I have watched the many goings-ons of my little roommates.

Currently, only one spider resides here. Her name is Sara. Sara is about to lay eggs. She moved in just a couple of days ago, and still seems to be kind of unsure about her new digs. She's quite flighty by nature, and this behavior can sometimes be entertaining. Last night, whilst I was in the shower, Sara dropped down to say hello. Unfortunately, Sara does not realize that coming below the shower tile is strictly forbidden because I am quite flighty around spiders. I'm sure she is intrigued by this. Anyway, I gently blew in her face to let her know that she aught to turn around and walk away. She got the hint, and did so. At the end of my shower, I innocently offered her a drink of water. Apparently, I scared her. She tripped, and fell down the wall. I felt really bad, and offered her a tiny moth that I had caught flitting around me in an annoying manner.

I figured she could use the food, as she is currently eating for 48. However, she refused, and I seem to have burned a valuable bridge. Hopefully she can come to forgive me, and in return, I will allow her 47 babies to roam freely above the shower tile in my bathroom.

This is kind of an open letter to everyone out there who is in a relationship.

Dear everyone,
I don't fucking care! I'm glad that you're in a relationship with someone you like. I'm glad that you have someone that you can be that close to. Really, I am. However, you don't need to remind me every fucking minute that you have a boyfriend/girlfriend. Good for you. Stop making out with each other in front of me. Don't start climbing all over each other when we're watching a movie together. I didn't come to sit near some people practically fucking in the chairs next to me. I came to watch a movie. Keep a little bit of distance- PLEASE.

Furthermore, when we have plans to hang out, DO NOT call me at the last minute to ditch me to go 'watch tv' with them. That's the ultimate insult. If you didn't want to go to the movies, or to dinner, or to do whatever with me, you should have just told me in the first place. It would have saved me a hell of a lot of hurt to find out you would rather fuck someone else than be with me. And when we do actually manage to hang out, don't talk constantly about your significant other. it makes me feel like you would rather be with them than me, and that's not a good feeling.

And when you're with me, please, be WITH me. Don't be texting little love notes to each other during the pauses of our conversation. Could you be more rude? I would give the same courtesy if I were the one in the relationship. I am capable of being AWAY from my boyfriend. You should try it sometime. And this brings me to my next point: I don't need to be in a relationship to feel good about myself and to be happy. Stop assuming that I NEED a boyfriend, or that I NEED to get laid. I am actually perfectly happy being single. I am not jealous of your relationship. I am not envious. I am happy that you are happy, and I am happy being single.

So there you have it. I don't care if you think I'm a self-centered bitch. I just can't stand someone being all 'kissy-face' with someone all the time.

I was watching Rachel Ray the other day. For those of you who have been living in New Zealand, or under a rock (same thing), Rachel Ray has her own cooking show, in which she cooks things. It got me to thinking: What would it be like if I had my own cooking show? this is unlikely, seeing as I am completely inept at cooking (unlike "adept", which I learned the other day, is inept's antonym. antonym meaning "opposite". I like to speak bombastically whenever possible. bombastic, meaning of course, "to use big words in order to seem more intelligent". Ironic, seeing as bombastic is in itself a big word, but I am digressing, and need to get back on track). SO, I'm guessing my cooking show would go something like this:

"Hi folks!!! [cock head and smile in cheery manner] Tonight we're going to be making a hearty and meaty lasagna!"
"To begin, let's go to the freezer [go to the freezer]. Now, you should already have a box of Stouffer's Hearty Meat Lasagna. Remove the box from the freezer, and follow the directions on back. "[at this point, I would stick the little tray in the oven for like two hours, or however long it takes to make lasagna, and make small talk with the audience.] "Ta-daaaaa! [removing lasagna from oven] LASAGNA!!"

For dessert I would probably just grab a couple of Pudding cups, dump them into a bowl, and nuke it for like 30 seconds or something. "It's a good thing" as Martha Stewart would say.

Well, you're probably wondering why I have the subject that I do for this blog. There's actually a very good reason. Animals have been behaving weirdly around me lately. Well, mostly insects, but some animals. actually, all insects and two rabbits. and a blackberry bush. The other day (wow, the other day was CRAZY!!) I was sitting on the couch at my mom's house watching House, the tv show with the doctor, and two spiders living above my mom's section of couch started fist-fighting. kid you not. If I had better eyes, I'm sure I would have seen eight tiny boxing gloves on each of the spiders. all the other spiders (and there were a lot of them) were just sitting around watching, totally chill-like. it was weird. Then, back at my house, I'm sitting on my couch, and a fly comes and lands on the end-table next to me. it then flips on to it's back, starts buzzing madly, and then just stops. I poked it with my pocket knife, and discovered IT WAS DEAD! It just died, right then, in front of me. not five minutes later, I hear a super tiny *plop* on the couch cushion next to me. what was it? a spider. Kid you not. just dropped from the ceiling, onto the cushion next to me, DEAD. A dead spider fell on my couch, just after the dead fly. CRAZY. I could not make this shit up, I promise you!!

I'm not even done telling you about these crazy animal things. Just today, I finished shoeing my client's horses up in Mt Aukum. I'm driving back down Shangri-la Lane, and these two jack rabbits come into the middle of the road. I thought nothing of it, until they started BOXING!! they were sitting up smacking each other in the face with their little paws! they made their way off the road, and into the bushes, where I'm guessing they went back to Wonderland. I was so excited to see this that I started waving my arm out the window at my client, who was driving down the road behind me. Just then, a fucking blackberry bush jumped out and smacked my hand. Yep, thorns and all. There were like 14 scratches and 1000 thorns stuck in my hand. I don't know if my client saw that or not, but I'm really hoping she didn't, especially because then I would have to explain that I saw two rabbits fighting in the middle of the road. But this is how my life is. Crazy, I know. And you're probably jealous, and I don't blame you. But it is quite a burden to have seen all these things, and have people look at you like you're high every time you try to tell them the stories. I'm not making any of this shit up though, I promise.

Pinkie attacked a tire today. I have pictures and video documenting it. I'll post it some other time. it's really cute though. I urge you to check it out.

Tig sent me a comment the other day. She is one of my favorite people, and definitely my favorite female comedian. This seemingly small, tiny little thing really made my day though. In the last few weeks (or even month), I have been barely able to get by with work. My truck is in and out of the shop with transmission problems, and is presently stuck in third gear. I'm a horseshoer. My entire business revolves around my truck and all the tools in it. Without it, no money. And my 9:00 client stood me up this morning. $130 down the shitter. I had another client assume that I lamed her horse, when it turned out to be back problems that can in no way be my fault. I had to drive all the way to fucking Fair Oaks on the freeway in third gear with the tranny temp at 250 degrees (it shouldn't be over 180) to get there. I'm only making about $150 a day, witch is about a third of what I should be making. No way can I afford payments on a new truck, especially when I still owe $17 Grand on my present truck.

And when I finally hit a little high point, when something actually brightens my day, the little dream stealers have to come and ruin everything. "It's not really Tig, just some ghostwriter fucking with you" they said. "why would Tig actually leave you a comment?" Fine. Whatever. Screw y'all. I'm so done. You can't depend on anyone else in your life but you. Write that down.

I'm gonna go veg (Vege? Vedge? Veg? whatever…) out in front of the TV, drink my grape soda, and eat a stick of string cheese.

I'm writing this in Microsoft Works Word Processor because my internet is being excessively slow, so I'll copy/paste this into my blog later. Why isn't blog a recognized word in the Word Dictionary? You would think that by this day and age that blog is a well-used enough word that they would go ahead and add it. I suppose I could go in there manually and do it, but I just don't feel like taking the time to do that. I think Americans are getting really lazy. For example, I'm American, and I won't take the 15 seconds to add blog to the Word Dictionary. Also, they (and by they, I mean whoever makes cars) made a car that will parallel park for you. Who doesn't know how to parallel park? Don't you have to do that in order to get your driver's license? And, if you were to take the driver's test with said car, would it be cheating if you used that handy little option to park for you? I would assume yes, but who really knows? I suppose the DMV would know, but I'm not about to spend three hours in line to ask them.

I just got two netflixes (Is that the correct plural for Netflix?). Why isn't Netflix in the dictionary? Son of a bitch.

I was sitting, or rather laying, on my couch a second ago wondering how one would go about getting airborne when you parasail. Do you have to run really fast behind the boat and then jump up in the air, or do you sit on the ground, and then the boat just automatically lifts you off the ground? OR is it like wakeboarding, where you bob in the water a bit, and then you get lifted into the air. It is perplexing.

There is a HUGE turkey in my front yard. I would say he's at least 20 pounds. He has an excessively long beard. There are two hens with him. He must be pimping. I'm going to name him Jake. I'd name him Tom, but my neighbor's name is Tom, and I'm sure it would get confusing when I refer to my neighbor and the turkey in the same sentence. I can't think of a reason to refer to the both of them in the same sentence, but we'll just name the turkey Jake so that no one gets confused. Especially if Tom decides to read this (Tom my neighbor, not the turkey. I'm assuming that the turkey can't read. Or at the very least does not have a myspace. Not that I think Tom (my neighbor) has a myspace either). ANYWAY, I'm going to bet that there are two hens with Jake because of his long beard. I'm sure that it's comparable to the Penis in the human world. Not that he can procreate with his beard, or maybe he can. I'm not a turkey expert. But I can tell you that I would never date a man with a beard. Sorry Jake. You're out of luck.

Wow. It is already 2:30 in the afternoon. The day has FLOWN by. I can't even tell you. I spent the morning checking out manufactured homes with my mom. We're not in the market for a manufactured home, but thought that it would be fun to look at them anyway. We got lots of great little decorating tips, not that either of us are in the market for decorating tips, because seriously, when would we ever use them?

Has anyone paid any attention to the weather lately? It's blowing my mind. One day it's super rainy and cloudy, then it's eighty fucking degrees out, then it's a high of like 50 degrees, then we're somewhere around 70 degrees, then it's snowing, then we're back to 90 degree weather. But, you know what they say about California weather: If you don't like it, wait five minutes. I think that's what they say about every state though. I've watched like twelve different movies in which they've referenced that statement about twelve different states. I'll just use it to refer to California's weather. You know what would be cool, to live in San Diego. Actually, that's not as cool as I thought it would be a second ago. I forgot that I hate it down there. However, I will be going there in October with Dusty and Erin Simmons. I'm going to ride down in the back seat of their pick-up. We're going to a Certification thing, where I think that there is going to also be a few clinics or whatever. And a contest. I'm not going to enter the contest though. However, I might take a certification test or two. I need to get up on that shit. Well, my vicoden (OH MY GOD. Vicoden is not in the fucking dictionary either. Crazy) is wearing off, so I need to go take some more. Enjoy your day.

There's that one dude who sings country music who just put out the song "You find out who your friends are". I can't for the life of me remember who that is, but it's the same guy who wrote "Paint me a Birmingham". ANYWAY, that's not what this blog is about. There aren't a whole lot of people out there that I really and truly trust, and that I consider my real friends. There are a lot of people that I hang out with, and really like, but I don't trust wholly. It really hit home today. I have been really upset with this deal going on with my truck, which, if you've been following the story, has gotten WAAAAY out of hand. But all day long, I've almost been in tears, and barely getting through work. I got in anyones face who looked at me sideways, I haven't been able to go more than five minutes without saying FUCK, and the temptation to hit someone has been overwhelming. But it's in times like these that you find out who your real friends are. It's the people that will let you just show up at their house, sit you down, give you a beer, let you vent, and give you a big ol' hug. I don't have very many people who will do that for me, but I was very grateful to have someone there for me today. so, to my true friends, THANK YOU.