The Good, The Bad, and the Owie

Yay: I hit an SCA event this weekend and got to see people joust.

Boo: I got sunburnt as a motherfucker. Bald Irish people do not want sun.

Why does tequila smell better at night?

Running into you like this without warning
Is like catching a sniff of tequila in the morning
But I'll try, try to keep my food down.
It's quite an aftertaste that you've left
Now that you're not around.

-Crash Test Dummies, "I Think I'll Disappear Now"

Yeah, so I'll admit it... this post is really just an excuse for me to start one with a quote. Fett does it all the time, and it's a conceit I've admired for years. My head doesn't work that way, though, and I know I couldn't maintain it over time. But I'm treating myself to this one.

My college girlfriend tried to contact me the other day. I'm not sure what possessed her to do that... there's some seriously bad blood between us. I'd love to pretend it's one sided, but I probably treated her nearly as bad as she treated me. Not as bad, mind... she one-upped me big time and I'll never top it, and a few of you know what I mean... but it's not like I'm innocent in that whole deal.

But I'm still a bit amazed by the nerve of her trying to contact me considering some of the shit between us.

Anyway, shortly after she tried to strike up a conversation and I ignored it, that song came up in my playlist, and gave me an excuse to start a post with a quote. So now I'm nearly 2% as awesome as fett.

I'll call that a win any day of the week.

Twice on Tuesday.

How they find me

Coyote and I talked about posting this info a long time ago, and then I forgot. But now he's called me out, and I must return fire in kind.

Google Analytics is an awesome tool that can tell you a hell of a lot about your website, your traffic, and your users. If you're running a real website that you intend to make money from, it (or something similar) is an absolute must... such tools are invaluable in helping you tailor your site to keep visitors interested, returning, viewing your ads... whatever.

Of course, it's completely useless to me and my blog, since I have no ads and about five friends reading it... but it does have one little feature I can't do without: it'll tell you how people found you.

I've been watching the search strings people find my site with for years, and it never disappoints. Prior to converting to blogspot, someone constantly found my old blog by searching for "groin mustard." Figure that one out. And I doubt anyone will ever top "naked Hitler groin massage" (which became something of a motto on my forums for a while... at one point, we were the #1 google hit for that search string, we said it so much).

So... how does Google Analytics say people are finding my blog? Survey says:

1. "noggin vomit." Far and away the #1. Makes sense. It's the name of my blog. Not sure who the fuck is searching for it, though... "Let's see... where was his blog again? It's called Noggin Vomit, why don't we google for that?"
2. "kidzookie." Again, makes sense. I always refer to my children as kidzookie on my blog (I try damn hard not to use anybody's real names). This one's probably some of my relatives who can't remember the blog's name or address.
3. "logitech replacement dongle." I'm kinda glad I got lots of hits on that one. Fuck Logitech and their lousy fucking customer service.
4. "lump on my tricep." That's... that's not a kind of porn, right?
5. "strippers vs zombies." You see? YOU SEE?! I told you it was high cinema!
6. "zombies zombies zombies." Again. I told you. Mock me for my studies, but you'll be glad I saw this documentary when the Zombie Apocalypse arrives.
7. "brazilian shaved taco." Coyote? I thought you liked my landing strip.
8. "condom noggin show." Is that on Spike TV?
9. "dear life fuck you." My people! Let me show you the way!
10. "deer vomit." Ew.
11. "does styrofoam turn to glass in your stomach." Dude. See a doctor. Seriously.
12. "dr factoid." That's what they call me.
13. "dr. factoid." Grammar Nazis got you, huh? It's okay. No points off for it here. Taco's all about love, baby.
14. "father shaved my head." I'm... sorry?
15. "fucking logitech." Right the fuck on, brother! Fuckin' Logitech.
16. "grimm noggin." I think you're looking for Grimm. His blog doesn't have noggins and is much funnier than mine. He should update more. Punkass.
17. "jerry lewis mc donalds." Uh... what?
18. "let me destroy noggins." I have a list of noggins you can start on if you're interested.
19. "lump tricep." Whew. At least this one's not on my tricep.
20. "mc donalds+vomit." I'm pretty good at algebra. Let's see... if I apply the quadratic equation here... take the square root of Grade D beef... times minimum wage to the fake cheese power... got it. Forty seven? No? Crap.
21. "noggin mcdonald's." Okay.
22. "nogginvomit." Weird that it's so far down the list. Huh.
23. "pocky lips." Indeed. Also, deer.
24. "shit neck." Noplz. Do not want.
25. "smoke and vomit." The fuck?
26. "vomit from deer." That's... specific.
27. "vomitfuck." I almost wish I could see the reaction of the person who googled for that and found my site. Almost. Except that would mean having to meet them.
28. "weirdest urinal." I wouldn't consider myself an authority, but it was pretty weird.
29. "why is my logitech mouse a piece of shit." I think you answered your own question, there, Sparky.

Sadly, most of my strings aren't all that funny for this blog so far. I was really happy to see that I seem to be some kind of swirling vortex of Logitech-hate, though. Perhaps I should start a support group. Who's bringing the beer?

Closing the chapter

I've just returned from picking up Twinkie's remains.

I'm sad to say I haven't been doing all that great with this whole thing. I really appreciate my friends that have been so good to me. I know a few of you who view pets differently from me and are probably somewhat disapproving of my reaction, and your patience with me is a kindness I really appreciate.

We're not entirely sure what all happened to poor Twinkie. What we do know is that it was a heart condition that brought him down. It may have been a condition brought about by his diabetes, or it may have been a pre-existing condition that was mild enough to escape detection for years, and which was aggravated by his diabetes until it took his life. The heart condition caused his lungs to fill with fluid, and he was in pretty bad shape. We dropped him off at the vet on Thursday for them to observe him overnight and try to stabilize his condition.

On Friday morning the vet called us to tell us that Twinkie's condition had worsened to the point that he nearly died when they shifted him to take blood for some tests. The only way they had to save his life was to transfer him to a specialist animal hospital, and even that gave us long odds. We went to visit with him immediately, and the poor guy was clearly suffering badly. He wasn't himself at all, and was audibly drowning within his own body.

So we said our good-byes and did the compassionate thing.

I know we did the right thing for him. It's never easy, but it's been especially hard this time. Every so often, a pet comes around that's just special. Twinkie definitely was.

My wife always joked that he was a dog trapped in a cat's body. That certainly seemed to be the case. He was the friendliest, most un-catlike cat I've ever met. He liked people so much that the vet had to hold him over running water to make him stop purring when checking his heart and lungs.

He was my cat. He was as attached to me as I was to him. We had our routines, especially first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Every morning, he waited between my side of the bed and my chest of drawers for me to wake up. I'd pet him for a while and then go shower. He waited outside the shower, and when I got out, licked my right calf every morning.

He was weird.

Every night he went upstairs to bed with my son. When I'd go up to check on the kids, I'd tease my son about how Twinkie was my damn cat and he'd better leave him alone. Kidzookie ate that up. When I finally came up to turn in myself, Twink would come up and lie on my chest and I'd pet him until I fell asleep. He liked being pet so much that he would drool, and I mean drool. Slobber flowed freely from his mouth. Every night I'd scratch his ears to make him shake his head and he'd spray wifezilla with spit.

Good times.

Every time I sat down at my desk to work on my computer, he jumped in my lap. I don't think there's been 15 total minutes in the past eight years that I've sat at that desk without a cat. I'm really going to miss that.

You always feel like you didn't appreciate someone enough once they're gone. I guess it's human instinct. It rose up and kicked me in the stomach with Twink, but in this case, I think it really isn't true. I loved that cat to pieces and said so often while he was still with us. I played with him and pet him every day, and had commented to my wife just a few days prior to his sudden passing how special a pet he was, and how lucky I was to have him. Obviously, I wish I'd had more time with him, but the time we had was well spent. He was well-fed, well-cared for, well-loved, and, well, happy.

Not really sure how to end this. My normal bile and sarcasm are too disrespectful for this post. I guess I'll let it go with a simple God speed, Twink. I miss you.

Diabetic cat is no more.

God speed, gentle soul.

I'm gonna go listen to Bright Eyes a few thousand times and maybe throw up a little.

I have the best friends ever.

You might try to argue that your friends are as good as mine. And you'd almost have a case, because if you're reading this, you mostly have the same friends as me. But if you're reading this, you're also friends with me, and I'm bringing down your average.

So I win.

Bitch. :)

The Further Adventures of Diabetic Cat

So Diabetic Cat has stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped using the litterbox, shows signs of heavily labored breathing, and can't be bothered to get out from underfoot, and can't be bothered to avoid the dog.

Good signs, huh?

We took him to the vet, and those things are all signs of his diabetes not going so great. They're keeping him overnight and doing some x-rays and shit.

That sounds cheap.

I can't go through this shit again. This is the most awesome pet I've had since my dog I had in high school. God damn it all. Someone please tell the universe to stop kicking me in the balls.

Taco has a flashback

Back when I first graduated from college and got my first grown up job, I got incredibly fucking depressed.

In my case, it had a lot to do with the fact that I am not, by nature, a goal-oriented person. Up to that point in my life, I got handed a set of goals every school year. Pass these classes, get these grades, avoid getting picked on by those fuckers over there.

Two of of three ain't bad.

Those kind of built-in mile markers are awesome. You don't have to think about them, and it's easy to see them passing by. Once I graduated, I switched gears from all that to "go to work, do whatever, go home." Not so easy to see it going by. Spun my wheels a while, sank into a deep and miserable funk I didn't really know how to get out of.

I finally got sick of it all and hit the shrink. I wasn't sure my benefits covered it (the company was tiny and not doing so hot), and wasn't sure if the boss would find out if I filed claims and fire my ass (I was young, naive, and depressed... so irrational besides). So I paid the bills out of my pocket.

Best money I ever spent.

The turnaround for me was pretty much immediate, since I didn't have a general problem with depression, but more of a temporary situation I wasn't familiar with and didn't have coping strategies for. Hell, just taking an active role and doing something about it rather than being passive (and let's face it, I'm great at passive... nearly as good as I am at passive-aggressive) made a huge difference.

Doc sorted me out, and we came up with a few hobbies and such to provide me with the missing goalposts whizzing by. And now I'm the beautifully adjusted fucker you see before you today.

I'm just sayin' is all.

There are zombies headed straight for my house

O NOES!

Wait, the zombies are bringing strippers.

YAY!

I wondered aloud yesterday whether they'd ship my Zombies Zombies Zombies DVD on the Sept. 9th release date, or ahead of time so I'd have it in my hot little hands on the street date. I woke up this morning to my answer. They shipped my order last night.

Hooray!

This is so much better than how I imagined the first time zombies came to my house would be.

He's insulting people at an eighth grade level.

KIDZOOKIE: Dad?

TACO: Hmm?

KIDZOOKIE: What's a douchebag?