I’m just going to say it: you people who toss your pets to the animal shelter because “I moved” or “I’m pregnant” or “My boyfriend/girlfriend is allergic” really piss me right the hell off. You know why? Because YOU CANNOT COMMIT TO ANYTHING.

Really, people, if you pawn off your pet as some appendage you no longer have a use for, you know what? I no longer have a use for you. You suck, and royally.

DO NOT get a pet if you aren’t willing to care for it until one of you dies. I’m not kidding. A pet is not a toy you can give to Goodwill, it’s a RESPONSIBILITY. You CANNOT kill a pet because it suddenly peed on your bed, snarled at your friend, whatever. You need to look into WHY the pet did what it did. Because trust me, it had a reason. Would you euthanize your kid if it did that? I thought not. Why is a pet different? The commitment is the same. And if you see it differently, then I truly hope you have neither. Because you just don’t get it. At all.

The animal shelter is full of the result of human stupidity, neglect, and general fail. If you can’t commit to a pet, you should not be married OR have children.

Think about it, people.

So, I’m definitely of the belief that any day above ground is a good day, but it’s never a good day when you realize the Long Dirt Nap is something you’re on the downhill side of.

Lately I’ve been noticing something: I’m getting old. Not OLD, old, but oldER, I guess. My hands look old. (I can see baby age spots – those light-soon-to-be-dark bastards can go right back where they came from, for all I care) and, well, my hair has been gray since I was 27 – thanks, dad!).

Which may be why this all kind of happened suddenly. Or, it’s because you just look around one day and go, “Holy Hell, when did THIS happen?” because, in my experience, it’s been happening for a LONG time, but you tend to notice it ALL AT ONCE.

And boy, am I noticing it.

This last week I’ve been waking up several times at night feeling like my internal furnace was set to “Seventh Ring of Hell”. Seriously, it’s 10-15 minutes of sweating my ass off, to the point where I wake up to kick off the covers. Ten minutes after that, the covers are back on.

At first I thought, “Well, I had a drink before bed; it’s my body processing the alcohol”.

Um, I WISH. I think now it’s night sweats, which is a sign of…DUM DUM DUM…MENOPAUSE.

Fuck! Am I that old?

Well, yeah, I guess I am. I looked it up, and it can happen any time after 40 (I’m 46) so yep, that’s probably what it is.

Luckily so far there’s no daytime hot flashes, but still. This is not my definition of fun, people. DO NOT disturb my sleep.

I can deal with this, and I will. And I’ll joke and laugh about it, because honestly, what else can you do? And, as my mother has often said (bless her heart) your attitude has a lot to do with how bad this is for you. Yes, I know there are some women who have a horrible time with this, and I sympathize, but for the rest of us, yeah…you have to laugh about it. It’s life. It won’t kill you.

Today.

Eventually, though, life WILL kill you, and that’s a pretty freaking scary prospect. And when you start to notice you are aging? It’s a REALLY scary reality.

Again, any day above ground…

Still, there is a little part of me who has lately realized that I Am Getting Old. And that part doesn’t like it. At all.

This should be interesting…

Yeah, I’m a martini or two (or three or four) in. My musical pic is: …drumroll please… Voltaire! He has taken up a LOT of my free time recently. I love him. He’s crazy, random, AND hilarious. Take a listen. When You’re Evil

And this one I love, love. love. You figure out why. Crusade

But my all time, crazy-ass favorite, silly song is this one: Demonslayer. I find this is a young Harry Dresden lullaby. Go figure.