Radiation: Day 1

This is actually NOT a post about zombies, although that might be fun at some point. Considering I work with quite a few. :)

Today is my beloved puppy's first day of radiation therapy. To keep my anxiety at a manageable level, I thought I'd list all the (non-medical) benefits of us going through this.

1) Totally HOT vet. OK, forget the fact that he's probably 15 years younger than me and married -- I'm not interested in dating him, but it's nice to have eye candy when you're panicked about your dog's health.

2) Tons of Puppy Playtime. Before and after the treatment, all of the dogs there get to roam free and play in the back office of the clinic. So it's almost like an in-door dog park.

3) Company for the Commute. It was kind of fun to have a companion in the car this morning. The clinic is very close to my work, so I had company for most of the drive.

4) Hard Stop in the Evenings. Like most of us in this business, I could work 24 hours a day and still have stuff to do. But now, I'll be like my co-workers with kids -- I HAVE to leave by 5:30 because I have to pick him up before 6. Like them, I'll probably still go home and work a little more, but at least it's a change of scenery.

So a little less snark today and a bit more optimism for me. I'll never be a Pollyanna, but constant nihilism gets a little old too.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

One of the things I used to like about my job was my relative anonymity. Oh, I'd present stuff at client meetings, but I had so little contact with any individual that they probably didn't remember me from one meeting to the next.

That's changed a lot with my new responsibilities. In fact, I spent about six weeks straight in face-to-face meetings. And with a recent project, I've had almost daily contact with one person in particular.

So imagine my surprise when, in a conference call with said client and her boss, she acted like she had no idea who I was. Part of the problem was that her boss disagreed with the direction she had taken us in, so I think she was CYA by acting like we just appeared out of nowhere with these crazy recommendations.

Initially I was really upset about the meeting and her attitude. But as I remember that our industry is really about creating illusions, I guess it's just part of the game. I'm more than happy to stay behind the smoke and mirrors.

Teenage Angst-Land

Over the weekend, I read a really humorous take on the Twilight series and saw a promo for the new Vampire Diaries show on the CW and it got me started thinking. Why in the world would a 100+ year-old vampire want to (a) go to high school and (b) date a teenage girl?

Now, I'm not using this to slam Twilight -- it's really an honest question. (Buffy did it, too, and I actually liked that show, although it makes more sense since she is in fact a slayer.) Marketing-wise, I know why -- teenage girls want to read about teenage girls. But what I mean is logic-wise.

Maybe it was just me, but I hated high school. The idea of going back there again is horrifying. Especially if you were older and wiser. I mean, you put up with the BS when you were there because you just didn't know any better. I would think that someone with 100+ years of being around people would spend the entire time rolling their eyes.

And then there's the teenage girl aspect. I'm not expecting vampires to hang out in geriatric facilities, but really? You want to hang out all day long with someone whose biggest concern is who she's going to prom with and what she's going to wear? Remember, you've been around through two World Wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, two Gulf Wars, the depression, the Cold War, desegregation, just to name a few. What in the world would you talk about? I guess angsty feelings would probably be something you have in common. Maybe you could listen to Pearl Jam together and talk about how cruel the world is.

I know you should really leave logic out of the picture when you're discussing teenage vampire stories. And I probably should just not even think about things that aren't designed to appeal to me. But let's face it -- what better way to avoid my own angst. ;)

Update on Monkey

Thanks for sending positive vibes our way!

Just got off the phone with the vet and Monkey seems to be doing fine. They got all three tumors without any type of muscle damage. One looks a little suspicious, but she said that it was self-encapsulated, so hopefully, even if it's anything bad, they got it all.

I'll be picking him up in about an hour and a half. He'll be a bit groggy, so it'll be a quiet night at home.

Good Thoughts for Monkey

I know I've been posting a lot of more serious stuff here, and I promise to get back to more snarkitude soon. But if y'all could send some positive thoughts and if it's your practice, say a prayer to the deity of your choice for my best pal and dog, Monkey. He's in surgery today to have some tumors removed.

It's pretty routine surgery and since the vet isn't freaking out yet, I'm not freaking out. We'll have the lab results back some time next week. But I can't help but worry and of course, I'm feeling guilty for leaving him there alone at the vet's office. (Silly, I know, but you pet owners know what I'm talking about.)

I'll post again later when he's out of surgery.

Yes, there can be too much sharing

Warning: You should probably avoid reading this if you're eating.

We have an out of suite women's bathroom where I work, which means that anyone is free to use it. I don't really mind this. Public toilets completely squick me out anyway, so I just take it for what it's worth.

But the women who use our bathroom are much grosser than your average bear. There's always water on the counter by the sink, just waiting for you to lean over and wash your hands so that it can get all over your shirt or jeans. Half the time, the paper towel dispenser doesn't work. The door handle looks like it's been through Chernobyl. I really thought it was as gross as it could get.

Until this morning. I walked in to see several long, thick black hairs. All over the sink. Not just on one side, but all over the place. Now, I'm not the most observant person on the planet, but if even I could see them, why couldn't the person who left them there? Or was she just too lazy to pick them up. Maybe she was just trying to share.