Dog Food Challenge 2013: Eater One

Welcome to the 2013 Dog Food Challenge.

About a week ago, I posted some information about the 2013 Dog Food Challenge. Basically, I have four people and myself. On Valentine's Day (because we hate V-Day) we're going to circle up, and delve in to some canned dog food. Some of us for research. Some because it's also a fundraiser...(we're each aiming to raise at least $10 to donate to the local animal shelter) and some well... I guess we'll find out why they're doing it.

She looks super fancy

This is my friend (and co worker) Jen. She's super fun to work with, and slowly but surely, I'm getting her into couponing, which is stellar (and saves lots of money).

When asked why she agreed to eat some canned dog food she said, "I don't know. I feel like it's interesting, like something I wouldn't normally do...ever."

For the record, she's the only one who didn't take some substantial pressuring to get her to agree to the challenge.

Stay tuned to find out who the other contenders are :)

The Truth About Sex

Some really cool things were said

Last Wednesday, I dragged the boy to the state capital and we attended Moving Choice Forward for Maine; a small gathering of ProChoice advocates sharing why they're passionate about women's rights. There was free coffee, free cake, and free condoms.

There, I met a representative from Planned Parenthood, and we chatted a bit. (I had called him a few days before to see if all the speaking slots had been filled, he said that I may be able to speak at a future engagement.) Standing in the crowd, I listened to women share stories. I heard about Margaret Sanger living in a time when women shoved knitting needles inside them to terminate unwanted pregnancies. I remembered considering the same thing during my pregnancy. And as I listened to these women and men talk, the more amped up I got thinking about being able to share my story with others.

Stoked off of this new development and how awesome it would be for my memoir and platform, I was bubbling when I went to work. During a co-worker's lunch break (and because she knows about my experience in abortion), I told her the news.

"What will you talk about?" she asked. "Abstinence?"

I reeled back, thinking of my teenage years pushing the boy I loved off me because I was waiting for marriage. "No...that doesn't exactly....work."

For the remainder of the day, I started more fully considering what I'd say if given the chance. Would I talk about my own abortion and how it saved my life? Would I talk about being Pro-Life until fully faced with the decision myself?

My favorite of these is "Trust Women"

And then I told the boy about having an abortion, and braced myself for him to bail out, to yell at me, to tell me I'm damaged, or worthless.

But he didn't. He barely flinched. I asked what would happen if I did the speaking gig, and he said, "I'd be there to support you."

It made me think. I was brought up in the church to believe that Harry Potter was demonic, and gays go to hell, and sex before marriage makes you something of damaged goods. Therefore, an abortion makes you something less human.

But it's not true.

I deserve this life. I deserve a nice boyfriend (who when I'm pissed off at the coffee shop surprises me with hot chocolate). I deserve to think of myself as a woman who had a medical procedure because I made the decision that I do not want children. It doesn't make me damaged goods or less human.

It makes me human.

The truth about sex then, is that it happens. It can be fun. It can be romantic, or kinky, or awkward, or anything you want it to be. The only bad sex is the sex that isn't consensual. It's okay to be in a relationship and do the deed. It's okay to have a one night stand if that's what you're in to. It's also okay to remain abstinent for religious or personal reasons. Be human, make choices, but make sure you know why you're making these decisions.

Happy Birthday

My sister and meeee :)

In case you were unaware, I have the best sister, ever. She sends me stuff in the mail, and loans me money when I'm real broke, and visits the state of Maine on my 21st birthday to help babysit me. She's supported me through ups, and severe downs. She called me while I was in the psych ward, and sends me nice letters when my best friend's death anniversary approaches.

And on this day, January 25, 27 years ago, one of my best friends was born. That's not to say it's always been bliss...there was that time I punched her in the face and gave her a blood nose. And there were those other times we went through 4-6 month spans of not speaking. But I love her.

So, Happy Birthday Laura! I hope it's awesome, even if you're 2,500 miles from me, know I'm there raging with you in spirit. (I know the distance cuz I totally just google mapped it :) )

What's That On The Fan?

Welcome to the Dungeon

Well, as I called it on Friday, the poo has hit the fan, my friends. After my roommate/landlord texted, freaking out about my friend (now boyfriend, eek! Commitment issues everywhere) spending the night, he came over to let me watch Harry Potter. Within the first fifteen minutes, landlord's son (he's 30+ years old) comes downstairs and calls out, "It's time for company to leave."

"Thanks, but we're watching a movie."

"No, I think it's time for him to go, didn't you get my mom's text?"

"I did, and we're watching a movie. Night." (I'm so passive aggressive.)

Well, he goes back upstairs, and Damien and I continue watching the movie. And he falls asleep. Rather than waking him up and kicking him out, I let him sleep.

In the morning my alarm beeps, and I climb the stairs. Baxter, who opens the door with his face, smashed into the closed door. It didn't open. I patted him, pushed him to the side, and twisted the knob.

Terrifying, isn't it?
Worst part, when I moved in and saw it, I had a mini panic attack.
I should trust those instincts more often.

It still didn't open. They'd locked us in the basement. So I start yelling until the landlord's son opens the door, where another fight ensues. I let Baxter out, and managed to lose my car keys so Damien gave me a ride to my eye appointment. When we came back, the landlord's son blocked the entrance and was all, "You can leave now." (He is NOT a small man by any means. His entire body took up the door, so there was no way to get through.)

Now, a few days later, I'm still livid about the entire situation. If a fire had started, the three of us would be dead. The 'second' entrance is currently barricaded with the landlord's crap for 'winter'. There would have been no quick way out. Secondly, I pay to live there. Which means if I want to have friends over, who aren't doing anything, I get to have friends over. I'm not a sister/cousin/relative. It is NOT okay to EVER, EVER, EVER lock someone in the basement. (Unless you're seven and they cheat at tag. Then it's okay.) Thirdly, her little niece that got screamed at by her little boyfriend is a pot head, and yet it's okay for them to come whenever they want, without giving me notice so when they come creeping in at midnight I think I'm going to get murdered.

The so called "emergency" exit

So once again, I'm back to the apartment/house hunt grind. Wish me luck.

To end this on an uplifting note here's a song lyric that keeps me going in these situations:

"All I need is the air I breathe, and a place to rest my head" ~One Republic

The 2013 Dog Food Challenge

In November I undertook NaNoWriMo and popped out what's tentatively called Blackout. At a point during the novel, the main character (Jenna) has to eat canned dog food, and she talks about how awful it is...

This is Baxter.
Jenna had a BFF dog, too

But as a writer, can I really do that? Can I really write about something that I don't know about? I mean, every time I give Bax some, it smells pretty good. I've poked it a few times, and it seems okay. I read the label, and it basically sounds like the stuff hot dogs are made out of.

Thus, my brain started screaming, "You must do it! You must eat dog food to write about it accurately!" 

Still, it's more fun to do dumb things with friends.


It's even better to do dumb things with friends, and turn it into a fundraiser for a local animal shelter. With that said, here's what's going to happen in the upcoming weeks:

Icky, icky

1) I'll be posting a PayPal donation button where the NaNoWriMo one currently is. If you feel like this is a good cause, feel free to donate. If not, don't.

2) I'll do blog posts (probably one a week) of who the Dog Food Eaters are. You'll get their bio, how I know them, and ideally a fun picture. Oh, and why they agreed to do this in the first place.

3) On February 14th (as long as all jobs and commitments work out) the five of us will consume canned dog food. Ideally we'll be able to do a vlog post, so you can see the fun, too. (I don't think anyone will eat an entire can, it's more-so going to be a few bites...or vomiting. Whichever happens first.)

Welcome to the 2013 Dog Food Challenge. 

Are you ready?

More Roommate Issues

In case you haven't heard, I am not meant to live with or near people. There needs to be about a ten mile buffer zone or my crazy will bring out your crazy. It happens. Time and time again.

Baxter saying,
"Please let's move again!"

So we've reached that point with the current living situation. Maybe it's because I'm a bad roommate. Maybe it's because I don't like guys screaming at their girlfriends and making them cry at eight in the morning. I'm not sure what it is...but I seem to be in that situation where all I do is camp out in my room and avoid my roommates at all costs. This phase is the one right before shit hits the fan...(wait for it. It's coming.)

I live in Maine. It's beautiful, has four seasons, and ::gasp:: one of those seasons is Winter. Which means snow, and sometimes a blizzard. A few weeks ago, I drove home, went off the road twice and arrived only to find that the steeply up-hill driveway hadn't been plowed. After several attempts, I gave up, turned my car off, and walked angrily up the hill.

"Lynne," the roommate's son said, 'Are you stuck?"

"Yes," I said in a very short manner.

"Want to try again?"

"Nope!" I nearly screamed and walked into the house where they proceeded to bombard me with, I need to be up and gone in the morning, yack, yack, yack. I got re-stuck in the morning, and stood in the driveway at 5am crying (good day, right?)

It's been a million little things like that. But last night, for the first time since I've moved in and had to readjust to alcoholic roommates, I had a friend spend the night. Yes, I like him. After I got out of work, we drove really slippery roads (he told me I drive too fast in crappy weather), then went downstairs to watch The Hunger Games. Yes, he's cute. Yes, he slept in my room, but no, nothing happened because I'm a good kid and not currently self destructive. (Also, even if something did happen, I'm an adult. I'm allowed to do those things!)

So we get up this morning, make oatmeal for breakfast (which was delicious, though Baxter got to finish most of it), and then he offered to give me a ride to work (since we were both headed in the same direction). As I go to finish getting ready (brushing my teeth and all that jazz) the guy who wanted me to "Try again" when my car was stuck and his baby mama were taking a shower together. (Keep in mind, he also pees with the door open, and pees on the floor. Not. Cool.)

So we sit and wait and we talk about watching Harry Potter because I haven't seen the last movie (still. Have you heard it's demonic?), so because it's human decency, at work I text the roommate/landlord and say, "Hey, he's coming over again tonight because we're going to watch Harry Potter."

Her response?

Bad roads. Not safe. I'm not sending peeps home
in that

"NOT HAPPY COST ME THIRTY DOLLARS for the guy to plow only part of the driveway OBVIOUSLY After a storm you get plowed FYI Just hoping you are not planning another SLEEP OVER here. The first one was quite enough."

So let's rewind a bit. A month or so ago, as the mountain started picking up, she sat me down, looked me straight in the eye (without a beer in her hand, maybe that was the problem) "Listen, you live here. This is your house too. We want you to feel comfortable. If you want to bring people over, you can. If you can give us a heads up, that's be cool, but you don't have to ask permission or anything."

Tack on the fact that my room is FREEZING and I've asked her to help warm it up some so I don't feel like death. Okay, now re-read the text.

My brain just exploded on the ceiling. Resuming the living arrangement hunt. How is Germany these days? Is it still way over populated? (I need not crazy people in my life!)

The Perks Of Having A Roommate

I complain a lot, right? But you guys like to tell me that I'm positive a lot of the time, so while I talk about hating roommates/living near people, I figured I'd surprise ya'll. Here is a list of why it's nice to sometimes have roommates:

Lots of vehicles to choose from

1) Spare Vehicles

Once upon a time the breaks went out on my car. I was told it was no longer safe to drive. For a few days, I rocked throwing Riley in neutral and coasting to a stop with the assistance with my lovely e-brake. Then, though my car had already been started, my (current) roommate stopped me, and offered me a ride to and from work. We live 20 minutes away. It was a very kind offer.

Living alone, this is not an option.

He hates water

2) Washing your dog.

Baxter's a big boy, and when it comes to water, he becomes the biggest wuss you'll ever meet. During hurricanes  he'd wait DAYS before venturing outside.

So when the bath water runs, he hides in the bedroom (or basement depending on the living situation). It literally takes AT LEAST two people to get him in the tub, and once he's there, one has to hold him, while the other bathes.

I need roommates. He smells awful. It's been months since he's gotten a bath. (Please help.)

3) General Help

Though I now have to go to court to testify against him, before he became the sketchy 62 year old naked man, he was the creepy housekeeper. As such, one night on the drive home from work, not one, but both of my headlights went out.

I drove home with my high beams on. During the following days, I bought new lights, but had no clue how to put them in. Creepy housekeeper rescued the day.

And then exposed himself to me. Icky.

So heavy...

4) Heavy Lifting

I have a lot of stuff. One of those things is a 100lb punching bag. When there are stairs involved, it's kind of the end of the world to me. I harness my chi, put my game face on, and haul ass.

But, when I moved (into my current living situation) my roommate and her son helped carry a vast amount of my belongings down the stairs. I barely had to do any of the heavy lifting. It was bliss.

Whereas moving from North Carolina was the bane of my existence. Not only was I alone, but there were stairs. Multiple stairs and moves (don't forget that small bout of homelessness I threw in there right before I left).

Not a good time. Roommates help you carry stuff.

And while all of these things are lovely and wonderful, nothing is as good as the best perk of having a roommate:

He's all "Please don't leave me!"

5) Live in Pet Sitters

My adorable love muffing (did I really just say that?) has the worst case of separation anxiety I've ever seen. When I'm gone, he'll stop eating for a little while. Then he'll mope, and stair out the window. Then, at some point (usually about day four of my absence) he'll start getting cuddly.

To the point, when I was in Seattle I get a phone call from Laura going something like this:

Her: You need to come home.
Me: Why? Is everything okay?
Her: Your dog is cuddling with me. He knows this is against the rules.

Bottom line: I was able to leave for over a week, and know he was taken care of. When you have good roommates, they'll watch your pets (whether they want to or not).