Lolwut?
Silly black people....
*readies herself for oncoming cries of RACIST!!*
Friday, November 18, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Gone
Sunday night, I got word from Missouri that my cat had died. To say I was upset over the news is a massive understatement.
Ping was 13 years old. I got him when I was 10 years old. He was six weeks old and itty bitty. Bright yellow, too. Not the smooth chocolate coloring he sported for the past few years.
And unlike most of the animals that had existed in my home until that point, this one was mine. He inherited his mother's looks, a dark-colored Himalayan named Ling, but his stray tom father's shorter hair, so I just named him Ping. It ended up suiting him, as he bounced off the walls like a ping-pong ball as a kitten and young cat. I took to calling him Ping-Pong or Ping.
He was an affectionate cat. But he wasn't a pushy-lovey cat. He'd walk up and nudge your hand and then just lay down next to you and wait to be noticed, content just to be close to you until you saw him and scratched behind his ears.
My dad made the decision to have him declawed at the same time we got him fixed: early on. So while lacking sharp pointies with which to gouge at an annoyance, he still packed a hell of a punch. Literally. On more than one occasion in the past couple of years when Daniel would get a hold of his tail, he'd turn around and plant a firm slap upside his head to get his attention, and in that moment of infant confusion, Ping would haul ass.
As he got older, he became more affectionate. He would spend hours parked on the arm of the couch next to me as I surfed the internet or read or watched a movie, or across the back of my giant black chair.
This cat went through a lot with me. When I first moved out of my dad's house and in with my first boyfriend, he moved with me nine times in a year and a half. Nine times. For about eight months there was another kitten I called Squeaker, do to her very high pitched squeak of a voice, that he tolerated well enough, sometimes even allowing her to curl up close and snuggle against him for warmth.
When I was 19, I made the decision to move to Missouri, and my dad had joked at the time "I'll ship you along too, if it will get rid of that damn cat of yours." Dad wasn't fond of Ping because he went after Dad's many birds. Didn't have claws, but he'd slap a bird stupid, hard enough to stun and sink his teeth in. Never say that he was hindered by not having any front claws.
Ping went to Missouri, all right, same as I did: cramped and uncomfortable for twelve hours in the back of a 2-door Chevy Cobalt. I'm not a tiny girl, and while I didn't have a whole lot of things to move, it still filled what little cargo space was available. Ping's cat carrier was crammed half in the back window of the car, the other half resting on top of a giant box of small odds and ends on the back seat next to me. He cried the whole way there; my roommates were not pleased about that.
Once we made it and got settled in, he became part of the household: and we had a household. A bunch of young adults, pretty much striking out on their own in a college town, banded together as peers, and a gay cat. Oh yeah. The shenanigans that ensued. He made himself very popular amongst my roomies, with his stunning personality and vocal opinions. Damn near every one that came into contact with him fell instantly in love with him. Redhead used to sing his praises often, stating that he was everything people liked to have in a pet cat: affectionate, not reclusive, liked to sit in windows and be visible, inquisitive, and vocal about his wants, needs, and desires.
Of course, once I moved out of the big house with numerous roommates and in with the Redhead, I really did learn what hardship was. I spent a summer basically squatting in a house with no power and no gas, no money for food, and Ping was left to scavenge. I got a job, Redhead went back to work after being laid off in the summer, and we both relocated to stay with a friend so we'd have power and a way to survive until we had enough money saved up for a new place to live. Our friend was very anti-cat, and Ping had to stay behind in the dead house. I visited often and brought him food once I started getting paychecks, and he cried whenever he heard me walking up and cried as I walked away. It was enough to break my heart.
Ping survived my pregnancy, when I was an unholy demon to any who came near me. The entire nine months of hell, he slept curled up on my pillow around my ears. I was grateful for the extra warmth; it was a winter pregnancy. Thaaaat sucked.
I spent a lot of time laying around the apartment that winter, absorbed in loud music and those strange thoughts that highly hormonal women think. And Ping would lay nearby, just purring contentedly while I stroked a hand up and down his back. On more than one occasion, especially when I started approaching ginormous sizes, he would lean over and sniff at my stomach, twitching his long, white whiskers whenever my gut twitched at him.
When Daniel was born, the apartment was suddenly full of ten tons of baby stuff and a screaming wiggly pink thing and OH MY GOD WHAT IS GOING ON! It rolled right off his back. The first couple weeks Daniel was home, he slept in the bed with me. Ping stood watch at the foot of the bed, with his very regal pose. Redhead and I usually ended up with almost opposite hours, but he said that whenever he stuck his head in while I slept, Ping continued to sit.
That cat was a very big part of my life. He was there through everything I went through, all the ups and all the downs. Pretty much the only real constant thing in my life since I was 15. I called him my first-born fur ball for a reason.
Safe journey, big guy. Momma misses you.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Wanderlust, Part 2
I want out of Houston. Duh, half the people in Houston want out of Houston.
Alan, I'm looking at you.
The thing is... I don't know where I'd want to go. Do I go back to MO, where I know people and have friends and pretty much a life (albeit not a fabulous one) waiting for me to step back into it?
Or do I want to go someplace new? Completely start over, in a foreign town where I am known by absolutely no one. Make new friends, build a new routine, start a new life.
Am I insane for contemplating this? Or just young and foolish?
Maybe it's that romantic-at-heart thing I got going on.
All I know is I'm bored with this routine. I really am. But I am nowhere near close to being ready to handle a cross-country move, financially or mentally.
What if someday when I can do that whole "cross-country road trip adventure" thing, I take notes of all the places I visit? Maybe when I'm there, look up the statistics on unemployment, research the cost of living. And once my spirit settles down and I feel I know who I am again, I decide from my notes which place would be best for me to move and start up at again?
Yeah, that idea has merit. And I wouldn't be going in COMPLETELY blind.
Hmm. Must ponder on this a bit more.
Alan, I'm looking at you.
The thing is... I don't know where I'd want to go. Do I go back to MO, where I know people and have friends and pretty much a life (albeit not a fabulous one) waiting for me to step back into it?
Or do I want to go someplace new? Completely start over, in a foreign town where I am known by absolutely no one. Make new friends, build a new routine, start a new life.
Am I insane for contemplating this? Or just young and foolish?
Maybe it's that romantic-at-heart thing I got going on.
All I know is I'm bored with this routine. I really am. But I am nowhere near close to being ready to handle a cross-country move, financially or mentally.
What if someday when I can do that whole "cross-country road trip adventure" thing, I take notes of all the places I visit? Maybe when I'm there, look up the statistics on unemployment, research the cost of living. And once my spirit settles down and I feel I know who I am again, I decide from my notes which place would be best for me to move and start up at again?
Yeah, that idea has merit. And I wouldn't be going in COMPLETELY blind.
Hmm. Must ponder on this a bit more.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wanderlust
I have been seized by wanderlust.
The past couple of weeks, every time my attention is not firmly held by the task at hand, I find myself imagining what it would be like to spend time in Alaska. Or maybe Oregon.
Driving through vast deserts in Nevada, perhaps. Or redwood forests up and down the west coast, perhaps?
It's a very distracting phenomenon. That's what I think of it as, anyway. That whole "ADD-Brain" can seriously backfire when this happens. It's not unusual to find me sitting somewhere with a glassy look in my eye; quite obvious that my brain is elsewhere...
But oh, the money that would be needed for such a venture! Least of all being a massive overhaul on the Death Star. *sobs* That thing is so torn up that I'm amazed she still runs most days. I'm getting my head on straight and hunting for a job, dutiful as ever, but the fact that I don't speak Spanish is a major hindrance.
But it would be nice, you know? Cooler full of pepsi and snacks, food, a duffel bag full of clothes, an iPod full of music, a netbook and camera for blogging, and a giant road map. Probably as close to "an adventure" as you can get these days, but it would make great memories to comfort me when I'm old.
I'm not making any sense, am I? What else is new!
Who knows. Maybe someday I will.
The past couple of weeks, every time my attention is not firmly held by the task at hand, I find myself imagining what it would be like to spend time in Alaska. Or maybe Oregon.
Driving through vast deserts in Nevada, perhaps. Or redwood forests up and down the west coast, perhaps?
It's a very distracting phenomenon. That's what I think of it as, anyway. That whole "ADD-Brain" can seriously backfire when this happens. It's not unusual to find me sitting somewhere with a glassy look in my eye; quite obvious that my brain is elsewhere...
But oh, the money that would be needed for such a venture! Least of all being a massive overhaul on the Death Star. *sobs* That thing is so torn up that I'm amazed she still runs most days. I'm getting my head on straight and hunting for a job, dutiful as ever, but the fact that I don't speak Spanish is a major hindrance.
But it would be nice, you know? Cooler full of pepsi and snacks, food, a duffel bag full of clothes, an iPod full of music, a netbook and camera for blogging, and a giant road map. Probably as close to "an adventure" as you can get these days, but it would make great memories to comfort me when I'm old.
I'm not making any sense, am I? What else is new!
Who knows. Maybe someday I will.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Eff You In The Face
When you live in a major metropolitan area (like, oh, say... Houston?), your wheels are the key to freedom. If you're lucky (like me), you have your own vehicle and do not have to rely on the Heel-Toe Express or public transit. This puts you a step ahead of a lot of the unlucky ones.
Now, say your vehicle has one foot in the grave, due to you being broke and unable to afford repairs and maintenance, like me. You know some of what's wrong with it, and things are finally starting to come together so you can get it fixed. In my case, it's the fact that my little brother is going to school for autotech, and they are more than willing to work on cars brought in by friends and family for the cost of the parts. Hooray, that saves a whole fuck-ton of money.
The first thing that needs to be replaced in the Death Star are the tie rods. They are going to give out and bend any day now. Every time I drive it, you can hear them creak and groan and protest with every turn. It makes me nervous to go anywhere in it. But hey, the parts themselves aren't that expensive, it's usually the cost of labor that kills you.
Now, the arrangement I have in my life is this: my boyfriend works, and I stay at home to watch Wee Idjit, because I have nobody to watch him for me so I can work. This has worked out just fine until now. And Boyfriend knows the truck needs work, he comments on it just as much as I do. He knows the tie rods need to be replaced; he was the one who told me to start babying the truck when I drive. And I have.
But when he gets paid, and pays rent, and then tells me, "We're going to hold off on getting the truck fixed until next week, because if we buy the parts today, we won't have enough money to get through the week," in favor of being able to buy beer to drink after work? Yeah, I get a little pissed.
Those tie rods are going to give out. And then he's going to be walking to work, not to mention repairing the truck himself because we can't afford to tow it across town to the college Little Brother goes to school at. Or better yet, he's gonna keep putting it off until the truck is beyond repair and the only option will be to scrap it and neither one of us have transportation until there is enough money saved up to buy another vehicle.
I'm very, very pissed off right now.
Now, say your vehicle has one foot in the grave, due to you being broke and unable to afford repairs and maintenance, like me. You know some of what's wrong with it, and things are finally starting to come together so you can get it fixed. In my case, it's the fact that my little brother is going to school for autotech, and they are more than willing to work on cars brought in by friends and family for the cost of the parts. Hooray, that saves a whole fuck-ton of money.
The first thing that needs to be replaced in the Death Star are the tie rods. They are going to give out and bend any day now. Every time I drive it, you can hear them creak and groan and protest with every turn. It makes me nervous to go anywhere in it. But hey, the parts themselves aren't that expensive, it's usually the cost of labor that kills you.
Now, the arrangement I have in my life is this: my boyfriend works, and I stay at home to watch Wee Idjit, because I have nobody to watch him for me so I can work. This has worked out just fine until now. And Boyfriend knows the truck needs work, he comments on it just as much as I do. He knows the tie rods need to be replaced; he was the one who told me to start babying the truck when I drive. And I have.
But when he gets paid, and pays rent, and then tells me, "We're going to hold off on getting the truck fixed until next week, because if we buy the parts today, we won't have enough money to get through the week," in favor of being able to buy beer to drink after work? Yeah, I get a little pissed.
Those tie rods are going to give out. And then he's going to be walking to work, not to mention repairing the truck himself because we can't afford to tow it across town to the college Little Brother goes to school at. Or better yet, he's gonna keep putting it off until the truck is beyond repair and the only option will be to scrap it and neither one of us have transportation until there is enough money saved up to buy another vehicle.
I'm very, very pissed off right now.
Friday, October 7, 2011
New Project
Yes yes, I know that I said a few months back that I was embarking on a project and actually asked you guys for some opinions, and then nothing came of it.
And I know, my blogging has been horridly light here as of late. I know. I am just a terrible blog mistress. But then again, there isn't a whole lot to blog about.
On to new business!
For those of you that know me well, you know I am a massive Star Wars geek. I am one with the Force, motherfuckers, embracing the Dark Side and all the powers promised therein.
Neeeerd!
Yes yes. I know.
Continuing on...
Well, since my mind is wrapped up quite firmly in a galaxy far, far away, I decided that, in lieu of actual content HERE, you could check out a new side project being written not only by myself, but along with my good friend Blaidd Drwg, a real-life friend from back home in MO!
He got me started on Star Wars stories and books, not to mention games coming out of my ears, so when the Force spoke to me, whispering the words "Letters from Korriban... a Sith blog...", I was compelled to obey, and immediately sought him out. He would know what to do.
And he did. And thanks to him, Letters From Korriban is now online. If you're a Star Wars nerd, or you're looking for something different to read, go over and click the link in my side bar for a fun little read.
Hope you like it, and may the Force be with you!
And I know, my blogging has been horridly light here as of late. I know. I am just a terrible blog mistress. But then again, there isn't a whole lot to blog about.
On to new business!
For those of you that know me well, you know I am a massive Star Wars geek. I am one with the Force, motherfuckers, embracing the Dark Side and all the powers promised therein.
Neeeerd!
Yes yes. I know.
Continuing on...
Well, since my mind is wrapped up quite firmly in a galaxy far, far away, I decided that, in lieu of actual content HERE, you could check out a new side project being written not only by myself, but along with my good friend Blaidd Drwg, a real-life friend from back home in MO!
He got me started on Star Wars stories and books, not to mention games coming out of my ears, so when the Force spoke to me, whispering the words "Letters from Korriban... a Sith blog...", I was compelled to obey, and immediately sought him out. He would know what to do.
And he did. And thanks to him, Letters From Korriban is now online. If you're a Star Wars nerd, or you're looking for something different to read, go over and click the link in my side bar for a fun little read.
Hope you like it, and may the Force be with you!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Holy Smokes
I breezed through the dining room the other day while my darling Granny was watching the news, on my way out for a cigarette break, and saw something on her TV that made me stop and stare.
Holy Smokes, LLC.
Yeah. You read that right.
Now, it seems like a really cool idea for serious outdoorsmen and hunters and the like. Or very staunch supporters of the 2nd Amendment and gun rights.
I don't know if anybody else has heard about it yet, but what are your thoughts on it, bloggers?
Holy Smokes, LLC.
Yeah. You read that right.
Now, it seems like a really cool idea for serious outdoorsmen and hunters and the like. Or very staunch supporters of the 2nd Amendment and gun rights.
I don't know if anybody else has heard about it yet, but what are your thoughts on it, bloggers?
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
8-Bit World
And if my game ain't startin', baby feel free to blow on my cartridge!
This afternoon LOL brought to you by YourFavoriteMartian, one of my favorite geeks on Youtube. Some of his songs make you shake your head, but others are made of pure WIN!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Heroes
I know I posted this song not that long ago, but the message applies here as well, and the only way I know how to cope with pretty much anything is to lose myself in the music.
These are pure thoughts, not planned out, not particularly well-written, but from the heart on this solemn day.
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
Losin' my faith today
(Fallin' off the edge today)
I am just a man
Not superhero
(I'm not superhero)
Someone save me from the hate
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(Falling from my faith today)
Just a step from the edge
Just another day in the world we live
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I gotta fight today
To live another day
Speakin' my mind today
(My voice will be heard today)
I've gotta make a stand
but i am just a man
(I'm not superhero)
My voice will be heard today
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(My voice will be heard today)
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero to save my life
I need a hero
Just in time
Save me just in time
Save me just in time
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for whats right
Who's gonna help us survive
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for the week
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I need a hero
I need a hero
A hero's gonna save me just in time
You've seen a lot of posts today delivering the same message: Never forget.
Everybody remembers where they were, what they were doing. How could you not? American society shut the fuck down when those planes hit the towers.
I'm not going to say never forget. Because you won't.
A lot of people have talked about the heroes the day, and in the days, months, years following it.
411 men and women in various uniforms, running into those buildings to try and help pull workers and visitors out.
2,977 people, going about business as usual. Their average day-to-day.
Almost three thousand lives lost, because of monsters out in the world who hate us because of our way of life. Our liberties. Our freedoms.
And countless soldiers around the world, fighting to protect our freedoms and bring to justice the bastards that would continue to bring us to our knees, out of fear of them.
Average men and women, and in those moments, they stepped up and became heroes.
Remember those men and women. Remember those they saved, those they tried to save, and those they lost their lives trying to save, trying to protect.
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
Where was I? I was in school. English class. Bored out of my skull. Then somebody stuck their head in, told us to turn the TV on, and everything stopped. The bells still rang, we still moved from room to room as if part of the every day routine, but nothing was accomplished. Books were not opened, lectures not delivered. We all watched as it unfolded.
Within two hours, almost 70% of the students at my school had been picked up. I lived less than a block from school, and my dad later told me that his coming to get us would not have helped. If any more attacks would have happened, being at home would not have been any safer than us being at school.
And my dad? He sat at home in his room and cried. He was a retired paramedic, his best friends were cops and firemen. He felt everything they did. And raising me to hopefully follow in his footsteps, I did too. It took a few years for me to comprehend more, but I feel the same way now that he did then.
Today, my mind has been replaying the images I saw. The planes. The people. The fire, the smoke. The anger, the fear.
Now it's just anger, for those injustices. And sadness, for those lives lost.
I will say it. Never forget.
This is for the heroes of that day, and the days following it.
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
These are pure thoughts, not planned out, not particularly well-written, but from the heart on this solemn day.
I'm just a step away
I'm just a breath away
Losin' my faith today
(Fallin' off the edge today)
I am just a man
Not superhero
(I'm not superhero)
Someone save me from the hate
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(Falling from my faith today)
Just a step from the edge
Just another day in the world we live
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I gotta fight today
To live another day
Speakin' my mind today
(My voice will be heard today)
I've gotta make a stand
but i am just a man
(I'm not superhero)
My voice will be heard today
It's just another war
Just another family torn
(My voice will be heard today)
It's just another kill
The countdown begins to destroy ourselves
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero to save my life
I need a hero
Just in time
Save me just in time
Save me just in time
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
I need a hero to save me now
I need a hero
(Save me now)
I need a hero to save my life
A hero'll save me
(Just in time)
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for whats right
Who's gonna help us survive
I need a hero
Who's gonna fight for the week
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I need a hero
I need a hero
A hero's gonna save me just in time
You've seen a lot of posts today delivering the same message: Never forget.
Everybody remembers where they were, what they were doing. How could you not? American society shut the fuck down when those planes hit the towers.
I'm not going to say never forget. Because you won't.
A lot of people have talked about the heroes the day, and in the days, months, years following it.
411 men and women in various uniforms, running into those buildings to try and help pull workers and visitors out.
2,977 people, going about business as usual. Their average day-to-day.
Almost three thousand lives lost, because of monsters out in the world who hate us because of our way of life. Our liberties. Our freedoms.
And countless soldiers around the world, fighting to protect our freedoms and bring to justice the bastards that would continue to bring us to our knees, out of fear of them.
Average men and women, and in those moments, they stepped up and became heroes.
Remember those men and women. Remember those they saved, those they tried to save, and those they lost their lives trying to save, trying to protect.
Who's gonna fight for what's right
Who's gonna help us survive
We're in the fight of our lives
(And we're not ready to die)
Who's gonna fight for the weak
Who's gonna make 'em believe
I've got a hero
(I've got a hero)
Livin' in me
I'm gonna fight for whats right
Today I'm speaking my mind
And if it kills me tonight
(I will be ready to die)
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
Where was I? I was in school. English class. Bored out of my skull. Then somebody stuck their head in, told us to turn the TV on, and everything stopped. The bells still rang, we still moved from room to room as if part of the every day routine, but nothing was accomplished. Books were not opened, lectures not delivered. We all watched as it unfolded.
Within two hours, almost 70% of the students at my school had been picked up. I lived less than a block from school, and my dad later told me that his coming to get us would not have helped. If any more attacks would have happened, being at home would not have been any safer than us being at school.
And my dad? He sat at home in his room and cried. He was a retired paramedic, his best friends were cops and firemen. He felt everything they did. And raising me to hopefully follow in his footsteps, I did too. It took a few years for me to comprehend more, but I feel the same way now that he did then.
Today, my mind has been replaying the images I saw. The planes. The people. The fire, the smoke. The anger, the fear.
Now it's just anger, for those injustices. And sadness, for those lives lost.
I will say it. Never forget.
This is for the heroes of that day, and the days following it.
A hero's not afraid to give his life
A hero's gonna save me just in time
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Kilted To Kick Cancer
That's right, it is September 1, and September (as you all know, because if you read me, you definitely read the more popular kids I hang out with) is Prostate Cancer Awareness Month. And I, like many friends of mine, are taking part in the Kilted to Kick Cancer fundraiser.
September may be Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, but for me, it's about all sorts of cancer. Both my parents had cancer; one survived, one didn't. So this month, this event, really hits home for me.
I may not have a kilt quite yet, but I will have one shortly, and rest assured, I will be *rocking* that thing for the whole month! Pictures will be posted often, in a wide variety of mocking (and not so much) poses. You'll enjoy it, I know.
No lie, the prizes are awfully damned tempting, but that's not the whole reason I'm doing it. I'm doing it because my mother survived cancer. I'm doing it because my dad didn't.
I'm doing it because every day, hundreds of people get diagnosed with prostate cancer. I'm doing it because every day, prostate cancer takes away a father, a son, a brother, from his family.
I can't think of a better reason to raise funds for it. Can you?
If you wish to donate through my blog, click either the KTKC badge below, or in the sidebar; it will take you directly to my personal fundraising page for the Lance Armstrong LIVESTRONG foundation.
For full details, cancer facts, rules, and prizes, visit Ambulance Driver's contest page on his blog. He words it much better than I do, after all.
Get kilted!
September may be Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, but for me, it's about all sorts of cancer. Both my parents had cancer; one survived, one didn't. So this month, this event, really hits home for me.
I may not have a kilt quite yet, but I will have one shortly, and rest assured, I will be *rocking* that thing for the whole month! Pictures will be posted often, in a wide variety of mocking (and not so much) poses. You'll enjoy it, I know.
No lie, the prizes are awfully damned tempting, but that's not the whole reason I'm doing it. I'm doing it because my mother survived cancer. I'm doing it because my dad didn't.
I'm doing it because every day, hundreds of people get diagnosed with prostate cancer. I'm doing it because every day, prostate cancer takes away a father, a son, a brother, from his family.
I can't think of a better reason to raise funds for it. Can you?
If you wish to donate through my blog, click either the KTKC badge below, or in the sidebar; it will take you directly to my personal fundraising page for the Lance Armstrong LIVESTRONG foundation.
For full details, cancer facts, rules, and prizes, visit Ambulance Driver's contest page on his blog. He words it much better than I do, after all.
Get kilted!
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