Well, I’ve lost the first major icon of my teenage years. Prince died yesterday. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this one.

When Purple Rain came out, my sister, a year and a half younger than me, REALLY wanted to see it. Our parents were willing to let us have the car to go to the theater. I wasn’t really interested, but in a rare show of older sibling nicety, I said, “Okay, we’ll go see it.”

And we did. I was blown away. BLOWN AWAY. Little did my sister know she had catapulted me into a love affair with an artist that would overshadow the last of my teens and my early twenties.

Prince had a lot to say, and in my impressionable 18-20’s  a lot of it really resonated with me. I began looking up his older stuff as well as anticipating new stuff – I loved him. I had Prince posters all over my room, which irritated my fairly racist father, but he never actually MADE me take them down, so I think that was a big step for him.

I got to see Prince in Detroit when he did his Purple Rain tour, and he was phenomenal. I’m so thankful I did that.

I lost touch with Prince’s music in my mid to late twenties, but I still loved his older stuff. And now that I’ve heard of his passing I’m feeling oddly emotional, and I suspect that’s because a piece of my young adulthood has died with him.

I haven’t walked to my local liquor store in some time, but I encountered the Three Amigos as I passed THE CITY BUILDING. Like, let that sink in. They were sitting outside the city building panning for change.

I had the dog; she LOVES liquor store runs, as THEY GIVE OUT DOG TREATS. So. I’m fairly certain if I don’t walk her there for the next three years, she’ll still know. Dogs, amirite? *eyeroll*

These gentlemen commented on my dog, just to comment on my dog. I brought her over to meet them, as they seemed nice and they were really interested in her. One of them even knew her breed. Now, I know 90% of the population would have just moved on, and in a bigger city I might have, but here we literally have like 15 homeless people you ever see on a daily basis if you walk around downtown, so you get to know the characters. Luckily so far all the ones down here are completely harmless and, contrary to popular belief, really fucking smart. Like scary smart. And, contrary to popular belief, super nice. Like, nice nice. I can’t even make this up.

So, they meet the dog, and of course the worst one off in the group (I’ve encountered him before; he’s really into his alcoholism; I feel sorry for him but, you know, it is what it is) asks for money. The other two, to my surprise, shame him.

I only have my cc and my ID, but, since they’re nice and hey, the two “better off” ones are looking out for “worse off dude” I’m all, “Hey, I have to come back this way, I’ll hook you up”.

Please, feel free to flame me for giving alcoholics alcohol. I grew up with a high-functioning alcoholic as a father, please tell me what part of this I don’t get. Don’t cry when I hand your ass to you.

They drink. They live on the streets. Can I give them food? Oh, I could IF I had a restaurant nearby I didn’t have to drive to. I was on foot, with the dog. Do they drink? OF COURSE THEY DO. And really, they are begging money for booze. Now I feel like since they have the booze I gave them they might actually go eat. So.

I’m not sure it’s actually charity, but come on. They’re happy, I’m happy, it’s not like one of them is going to clean up and run for congress (although I’d probably vote for him). It’s fucking human decency. I spent $9 and they’ll be happy for 3-4 hours. I’m okay with that.

Thanks, you ungrateful, horrible person. Because you are a jerk, and a rescue got my dog out of your clutches, I got the best fluffy fuzzbutt pet EVER.

Fuck you for using her as a breeder. Fuck you all the way to Hell and back. She is a LOVELY dog; she’s sweet and amazing, in SPITE of you and your bullshit. You suck, and if I could name and shame you I totally would.

I’m always amazed that dogs that get treated like shit like this still have love for humans. Mine is a total sweetheart. How she doesn’t hate our race is beyond me. But, she loves me; she  also lets random humans scratch her chin, and she’s a total treat whore when we go to the office to get a package (SPOILED).

Dogs > humans.

I love her. She’s totally amazeballs.

In light of a friend’s tragic loss of a beloved pet, and the close proximity to the 18th anniversary of my husband’s death, I feel the need to tell this story.

I dated Carl for about a year and a half before I married him. In that time, I had often expressed my desire to own a bird that talked. I thought they were fascinating, funny, and would be a great pet to have, but I never got around to having one.

Right before we got married, Carl brought home this little cardboard box. Inside was the cutest little piece of yellow fluff the world has ever known. My wedding present, Meep.

She came with her name (she was a year old), and we soon figured out why. She didn’t chirp; her sound of choice was “meep, meep, meep!” It fit her, so we kept it.

She was *supposed* to be my bird, but she was daddy’s girl all the way. He had a mustache; she would scream happily when she heard him come up the steps, fly over to him, settle herself on his chest, and groom his mustache. She was totally his baby. She loved me too, but he was #1 in her book. It was incredibly cute.

She also never learned to talk (so much for a talking bird; I still loved the hell out of her). She could whistle; we tried desperately to teach her to do the theme from “The Addams Family” but she never quite got there. We loved her anyway.

When Carl died, poor Meep was hit the hardest. We shared a staircase with the next door neighbors, and while they didn’t share Carl’s enthusiasm of bounding up at top speed, she still thought that sounds on the stairs meant it was him.

After the funeral, and after everyone had gone home, and things returned to “normal”, I watched her dance around on top of her cage one night as the neighbor came up the stairs. She thought Carl had come home.

The hardest thing I have ever done in my life was to look at her and say, “That’s not daddy”. I kid you not, that bird looked at me, looked at the door, and turned her face to the corner. For a couple hours. It literally broke my heart.

So the next time someone tells you, “It’s just a cat/dog/bird” cut those people out of your life. They truly don’t get it. Not at all.

Since it’s New Year’s Eve, I think it’s the perfect time to post up the 2015 book list. So, here in all its glory, is what I read in the last 365 days.

Post in the comments if you have book recommendations – I’m always up for a new book (or series!).

Divergent – Veronica Roth
Insurgent – Veronica Roth
Allegiant – Veronica Roth
Tales from the Nightside – Simon R. Green
Four: The Transfer – Veronica Roth
Four: The Initiate – Veronica Roth
Four: The Son – Veronica Roth
Four: The Traitor – Veronica Roth
Quick Fixes – F. Paul Wilson
Foxglove Summer – Ben Aaronovitch
Drinking: A Love Story – Caroline Knapp
Lily Cigar – Tom Murphy
Deadline – Craig McLay
The Locket Thief – Daniel Patrick
Identity (Eyes Wide Open, Book 1) – Ted Dekker
Mirrors (Eyes Wide Open, Book 2) – Ted Dekker
Unseen (Eyes Wide Open, Book 3) – Ted Dekker
Seer (Eyes Wide Open, Book 4) – Ted Dekker
Horns – Joe Hill (reread)
Winter’s Awakening – Karen Luellen
Heart-Shaped Box – Joe Hill (reread)
Balloon Animals – Jonathan Dunne
20th Century Ghosts – Joe Hill (reread)
Never Give in to Fear: Laughing All the Way Up from Rock Bottom – Marti MacGibbon
The Legend of Candy Claws – Aurelio Voltaire
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes – Caitlin Doughty
Joe – H. D. Gordon
Perv: The Sexual Deviant in All of Us – Jesse Bering
Paper Towns – John Green
The Fault in Our Stars – John Green
An Abundance of Katherines – John Green
Pioneer Girl – Laura Ingalls Wilder
Everything You Need to Know to Survive English Class – Blake M. Petit
Finders Keepers – Stephen King
The Lineage – Brian P. Easton
The Gift of Fear – Gavin de Becker (reread)
Enough of Us: Why We Should Think Twice Before Making Children – Cheryl Levinson & Ellis Levinson
The Jungle – Upton Sinclair (reread)
Four Past Midnight – Stephen King (reread)
Gastien: the Cost of the Dream – Caddy Rowland
Just After Sunset – Stephen King (reread)
Gastien: from Dream to Destiny – Caddy Rowland
Tristan Michel: Bloodline of Passion – Caddy Rowland
Giselle: Keeper of the Flame – Caddy Rowland
Gastien: Circle of Destiny – Caddy Rowland
A Crash Course in American Law – J. Ryan Jones
The Low Carb Revolution – John McLean
Embers: The Wings of War Book 1 – Karen Ann Hopkins
That Frequent Visitor: Every Face has a Darker Side – John Harker
The Eyes of the Dragon – Stephen King (reread)
Tampa – Alissa Nutting
The Farm – Emily McKay
Thinner – Stephen King (reread)
The Lair – Emily McKay
The Dark Half – Stephen King (reread)
What If? – Randall Munroe
The Vault – Emily McKay
The Bazaar of Bad Dreams – Stephen King
Circus of Horrors – Carole Gill
Blaze – Stephen King (reread)
The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters – Gordon Dahlquist

I saw it coming when I actually had to look up who this Justin Bieber person was everyone was freaking out about a few years ago, but it’s gotten much worse since then. I find it amazingly ironic that I can chart my social consciousness downfall to Justin Bieber. Man, that’s so many kinds of sad I can’t even.

It started first, really, with movies (Well, really with Justin Bieber, but who really wants to give him credit for anything?). I’ve stopped really wanting to go to new movies at the theater (some jackhole is going to bring a screaming kid, even at 9pm, and I’ve become an old curmudgeon and I don’t need that bullshit in my life) and, *OMG GASP* it will show up on Amazon for $3. Yes, I have become this person. I’m trolling the $3 theater as we speak and deciding if it’s worth it (only because I have a gift card to use up) or if I should just wait until I can watch it at home in my jammies.

I Am Officially Old.

I’ll give you this – I held out MUCH longer than my parents did. By the time they were 30, they were totally ignorant of popular culture. I made it to 49. I’m just way too tired to care 80% of the time about some of the crazy shit you people find interesting, but the other 20% I’m totally into. I’m hoping I can make it to 60 before I just throw my hands up, say fuck it, and listen to Nickleback. Bitches. 😀

I hate asshole parents. Asshole parents who think their child is a “special snowflake”, “spirited” (my particular favorite), or, and OMG excuse me while I barf over this one, “Indigo”.

YOU ARE THE REASON YOUR KID IS AN ASSHOLE.

Kids only know what they’re taught. If you teach them they are super-special, unique, above the rules, or otherwise entitled, YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOUR CHILD. You are SERIOUSLY contributing to the plethora of thirty-five year olds living in basements.

Just stop.

Well, several reasons, young padawan. First and foremost, I’m not interested. Yes, I know you’ve been trained up to think all women want kids, but that’s actually not true. There are many of us who just don’t fucking care. So, there. We may or may not like kids, but we don’t want our own. Get over it.

Second, family history. MY family is a trainwreck of alcoholics; my late husband’s was a trainwreck of mental illness and fail. He killed himself at the age of 35. Imagine what my life would have been like had I had a child with him. Said kid would have been 2 or 3 at the time. NOPE. How can I tell my child, “Daddy had mental health issues and you may too, but hey, you’ll be okay”. NOPE. NOPE NOPE NOPE. And, NOPE. And don’t tell me it’s not genetic. You have NOT met his family. I have and that shit is TOTALLY genetic. No lie.

I ALWAYS said, if I REALLY wanted to be a parent, I’d adopt. The fact that I’m 48 and haven’t kind of tells you that no, I do NOT want to be a parent. NOPE.

If that’s your thing, go for it. Just stop acting like there is something wrong with me because I have no interest.

Life choices. Deal with it.