Thank you so much you guys!

I feel better hearing all of your stories and knowing that so many of you have gone through something very much like this.  I’m still pretty scared, but I’m at least not planning my funeral every moment.

My doctor is notoriously hard to read, and so he scared the crap out of me.  I called his PA yesterday to see if she could explain things a little more to me.  She hasn’t called back yet, but I was crying when I spoke to the nurse and she agreed that somebody should talk to me.  So, I expect a phone call sometime today.

But you guys are so wonderful and I really, really appreciate your stories.

Keep telling me stories!  I need stories!!!!

PS: Today is a Toy with Me day!

The Sexiest Movie Scenes of All Time

Do you guys remember how I have this remarkable talent for getting my period like, every two weeks sometimes and I call it My Superpower? (that post was written back when I had a sense of humor. You should read it.)

Well, it’s been happening on and off for years and October was a particularly interesting month because I had My Superpower at the beginning of the month and it was normal and perfectly on time and everything and then I got it again in the middle of the month and it didn’t quite go away completely and so I called the doctor and they brought me in for an ultrasound.

Well, my doctor called me at work which made all the blood leave my head and I started crying because I’m always healthy and OH MY GOD MY DOCTOR IS CALLING ME AT WORK I HAVE THE CANCER!!!!

The good news is that my very small fibroids didn’t get any bigger and my ultrasound “looks good overall,” but the lining of my lovely uterus is too thick.   And he wouldn’t tell me what that might mean, but he wants to see me.  But he can’t do an exam until next week because I have My Superpower again, which I’m actually due for and it’s right on time.  Except I just had it.

I have to wait a whole week thinking I might have The Cancer.

So of course I Google “thick uterine lining” and what comes up first  but UTERINE CANCER.

The blood left my head again  and that’s all I needed to see because here’s where what my first grade teacher called “a wonderful imagination” fucks me and I immediately start picturing my funeral.

And then I put Mister on it and as it turns out it might be something as simple as a hormone imbalance and I’m wondering why my doctor couldn’t have just said that so I don’t spend the next week shitting myself and looking at my kids and tearing up because I might not live to see them grow up.

That would be crazy, right?  I don’t have The Cancer, right you guys?

Everyone gets Female Problems sometimes, don’t they?

Except men.  They don’t have trouble with their periods.  Usually.

I’m freaking out and I hope that in like a month from now we all look back on this and laugh and say “remember you had a couple of weird periods and you totally freaked out and you thought you had The Cancer, Crissy?”


That was so silly.

Tell me about your Female Problems and about how you did not die from them, Queefies.

Once upon a time, I had a beautiful Greyhound named Tashi.


She was the love of my life, and I still get all teary when I think about her. I was so devastated after she died that I vowed that I could never own another Greyhound again. And then last week I was thinking about her and how she would have been great with Alice and Big Pussy and Homeslice and Girlfriend and so I made a phone call to Greyhound Pets of America and got an appointment to look at some Greyhounds.

It was EASY. They answered the phone on the first ring and said we could come any time to look at the dogs. Nobody ignored me. Nobody treated me like I was inconveniencing them, and nobody was going to stand me up. No more messing around with these Rescue groups. This is a national organization and they don’t mess around.

On Friday, we picked Girlfriend up from school instead of waiting for the bus to arrive, and made the hour long trip on a cold and raw day. The adoption coordinator kept the kennel at her house, and was very sick that day. She kept having to go inside to throw up due to some heavy medication she was on. She could have canceled, and had good reason to, but she was there with a volunteer, dedicated to finding a home for one of her dogs. They stood out in the cold and the damp with us, discussing and choosing the best 5 candidates out of 28 dogs to show us.

We spent time with each and every one of them, and they were all wonderful, but one in particular hit us all in the chest. This one showered Homeslice with kisses and walked nicely with Girlfriend on the leash.


And when I bent down to pet her, she kissed my face and put her head on my shoulder and leaned into me.


It was all over at that point. AFC’s Allison, fresh off a track in Pensacola Florida was destined to be ours. We went home and started making preparations to bring her home with us the next day. Girlfriend picked out a brush and a fluffy bed.


We even got her a seat belt for the car ride, which, by the way, was pure comedy.



It was exactly like trying to stuff a giraffe into briefcase.

Greyhounds aren’t great at sitting down, and so it took massive effort to get her to sit in our front seat. The adoption lady had walked us to the car and was standing there the whole time watching us trying to stuff this mass of gangly legs and claws into our clown car. She had concerns, I could tell, but she still let us take her.

Allison didn’t stay seated for long and preferred to spend her first ever car ride standing up, panting in Mister’s face and stepping on the center console window controls. When she wasn’t doing the windows up and down, she was farting. When she wasn’t doing that, she was trying to wiggle out of her seat belt to come and sit in the backseat with me and Homeslice and Girlfriend. She was all legs and claws and drool and farts for the entire ride and we had to pull over to re-situate her. And of course there was traffic. And of course, Homeslice thought it might add to the occasion by screaming her head off for 40 out of the 60 minutes. And Girlfriend kept asking the kind of ludicrous questions only a five-year-old can come up with.

We finally got her home and introduced her to Alice, which went well, but as soon as we got into the house and she encountered the hard wood floor, she was exactly like Bambi on ice. Her legs splayed out all over because she’s never been inside a people house before. Shiny, slippery wood is not a surface she’s ever walked on.

She’s still struggling with that three days later, but she’s getting better. She kind of skates from carpet to carpet. We still have to carry her up and down the stairs because she’s never seen those before either. She’s desperately thin with chunks of fur missing and lots of scabs and scrapes just starting to heal from track life. There’s fur missing from around her eyes and behind her ears from where the muzzle rubbed it away, and she’s kind of depressed. This is like a re-birth for her and she needs time to adjust. She hasn’t had one accident in the house and is really good at holding her pees and poops.

We feel privileged to have the opportunity to help her learn how to be a spoiled and beloved pet instead of a money making slave. She is a sweet and gentle soul and we are already madly in love. She’s standing next to me right now with her head in my lap. How cool is that?

Alice likes her, too.


And Big Pussy doesn’t give a crap one way or the other.

The only problem we have is that her name is Allison and every time we call her, Alice comes running, but we’re still calling Allison and poor Alice is like “I’m here! Why are you screwing with me!?! WHAT IS HAPPENING???”

So, we need a new name and you, marvelous Queefies, get to help us. You can vote for up to two names or leave us a suggestion if you think we suck with our old lady names.

Allison's new name should be...

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