Thanks For The Dick Pic


Sometimes human stupidity is extremely entertaining.  However, there are times where it is not so funny and I wonder how humans have survived this long.  This week has given me a great contrast of both, but the story I am about to share was not funny for me.  I would probably laugh if it happened to someone else, but I did not enjoy the experience.

Anyway, it happened on Monday.  I guess it was actually Sunday night for the person on the other end of this exchange, but it was Monday morning when I happened upon it.  By it, I mean the photograph of a penis that had been sent to my phone.

Now, for those of you who know about my new boyfriend, it wasn’t his penis.  It was the penis of a guy I don’t even talk to anymore.  He didn’t send me any kind of message along with the photo, not even a winky emoticon.  It was just the penis.

I don’t know what this person was thinking when he sent me the photo.  He knows that I’m seeing someone, so I don’t know why he thought that it was a good idea to text me a dick pic.  Was he thinking that I would see his penis and realize what I was missing?  Because that’s not what happened at all.

I saw the penis and deleted the message, mortified.  I debated whether or not I should tell my boyfriend about it.  I was worried that he would get mad or upset when he had nothing to worry about on my part, but I decided that honesty was the best policy in a new relationship. Or any relationship, really.

Luckily, the boyfriend in question handled it really well.  He obviously did not like that some guy he didn’t even know had sent his girlfriend a dic pic, but he was more concerned about how upset I was about getting the photo.

I am sharing this because I would like to raise awareness about how unwelcome random dick pics are.  If you ever have the urge to send someone a photo about your genitals, make sure you think that through.  Are you certain that the person on the other end will enjoy waking up to a penis on their phone?  If your first thought is, “My penis is fabulous!  Who wouldn’t enjoy having a picture of it on their phone?” then you probably shouldn’t send the photo.  You think too highly of yourself.


Oh, The Horror


**WARNING:  This post contains “Silence of the Lambs” spoilers.

Okay, so I know I posted yesterday about how terrified I am of slaughterhouses.  But I feel like I have to follow up on that because these slaughterhouse nightmares are really freaking me out. My therapist says that I should figuratively put my worries about factory farms into a box, and then I should put the box in a drawer.  I tried that.  It worked until I got home and saw Bailey in her cage trying to use her toys but being unable to figure them out.  She just kind of nudges them and moves on.

Anyway, whenever I see her, I think about how close she was to being someone’s dinner. I am really happy to have Bailey in my life.  Even though she has cost me a fortune in vet bills.  I saved her life, and I am extremely happy about that.  But I also feel really bad about all of the rabbits that I didn’t save.  They are probably dead by now.

Although I was horrified at first by how they had all been picking on my baby, I don’t think they deserved the lives or deaths that they had.  I specifically remember one white rabbit with orange-ish patches putting its paw up on the side of its cage as I walked past.

I don’t think you’re a horrible person if you eat meat.  But I do think that you’re a horrible person if you have a. “I’d rather not think about it…” kind of attitude.  As in, “I don’t want to know where my food comes from because I know that it will make me feel guilty.”  This doesn’t just apply to factory farms (which treat their employees horribly, as well as the animals), but any other issue as well.  I used to work with a girl who had the “I’d rather not think about it…” attitude, and she drove me crazy.

“See, I don’t really care all that much about women having their rights taking away in, like, Pakistan or wherever.  I mean, it’s not happening to me.”

“If you are ever kidnapped by a serial killer, I promise not to care because ‘I mean, it’s not happening to me,'” I thought.

Sorry, I just went off on a tangent.  Back to the slaughterhouse talk (how joyful!). I had a seriously traumatizing meat experience when I was younger that probably got all of this sickened by meat stuff started.  When I was little, my dad used to take me to his friend’s farm pretty regularly.  The farm raised sheep for meat.  Of course, since I was a little kid, I had no idea that these sheep were going to be slaughtered.  I loved these sheep!  I would feed them, pet them, draw pictures of them.  There was one black sheep who I always made a point to include in my drawings.

Anyway, one day, we went to the farm.  All of the sheep were gone.  I just assumed that they were all inside the barn because I didn’t have enough spatial sense to realize that there was no way that they would all fit.  That night, I was served the sheep I had loved so much for dinner.  It was basically “Silence of the Lambs” but without me interviewing Hannibal Lector. Or rescuing a woman who was being held captive by a man who wanted to make a woman suit out of her skin.  And I’m not Jodie Foster.

When my dad and stepmom served some of the lamb they had gotten from the same farm years later, I was equally as horrified.  In spite of them telling me how delicious and tender the lamb was, I wouldn’t eat any of it.

Update: Bailey is super pissed at me because I won’t let her eat carpet.

This post doesn’t really have much of a point.  Unless it’s that I was probably destined to be a vegetarian.  My dad was also probably right when he predicted that I would die as an old woman with no human companions, but that I would have a cornucopia (not the “Hunger Games” kind) of rescued pets to love.



It has been a while since my last post!  I have been very, very busy.  In a matter of days, my life was turned upside-down.  In a good way.  I am now working full time, and I got a rabbit!  The rabbit came first, which has put a bit of a strain on my finances.  But I couldn’t be happier about not knowing how on Earth I’m going to pay for my insurance, rent, and credit card.

My rabbit’s name is Bailey, and I love her so much!  She was bred for meat, so she is huge.  And yes, she was bred for meat.  As in, she almost died.  As in, I saved her life.  My friend who works on the farm she lived told me about her.  She was being picked on by the other rabbits.  She wasn’t big enough for meat (despite being the size of a small dog), her fur had several bald patches, her nails were like talons, and her teeth were overgrown.

After many visits to the vet, pet stores, and walks outside, she is looking great.  I can tell she is happy from her body language.  I googled what all the weird shit she does means.  Her fur still has some growing to do, but she no longer has any bald patches.


As for the job, I am working back at the library I worked at in high school.  I am only there until August 16th, but I am loving it!  I spend my morning interacting with kids, and my afternoon working on the computer.

Now to get to the point of this blog post, I have decided to become a flex-ovo-vegetarian.  I have been having a series of nightmares about slaughterhouses.  Being a vegetarian doesn’t make me feel any better about them either.  I can’t stop thinking about animals being killed.  I think it’s because I keep thinking about how close Bailey was to having that fate.

When the nightmares started, I thought that maybe if I faced my fears about slaughterhouses and watched some videos about factory farming and read a couple of articles that I might stop having these dreams.  Because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?  Face your fears.

Watching all these videos and reading these articles just made everything worse.  I can’t even see meat without feeling sick anymore.  One kid brought a book into the library about hunting, and he was telling me all about cutting up dear properly.  I did my best to mask my distress.

During these past couple of weeks of nightmares, I have been more anxious than I have been since I started my anxiety treatment.  I just keep thinking about cute animals covered in blood.  All day long.  It’s very unsettling.

As I result, I felt like I have needed to make a lifestyle change so that I am not contributing to what goes on in slaughterhouses.  I have decided to become a flexi-ovo-vegetarian, which I’m pretty sure I invented.  There could be someone else out there who has already coined this term, but I don’t know about them.  To explain what a flexi-ovo-vegitarian is, I am going to dissect the word.

Vegetarian:  A person who does not eat meat.

Ovo-Vegetarian:  A person who does not eat meat or any dairy products.

Flexitarian:  A person who is almost a vegetarian, but not quite.  They eat some meat, but hardly any.

Flexi-Ovo-Vegetarian:  Someone who does not eat any meat, and hardly any milk products.  At home, they will not consume dairy.  However, because they are extremely anxious about being a burden to others, they will eat dairy if it is served for a meal at another person’s house.  They do eat eggs, but only free-range eggs.

So, that’s what I’m doing.  I will definitely be talking to my therapist about these nightmares because I am tired of waking up crying and shaking.

Also, this isn’t meant to make you feel like a terrible person if you do eat meat.  I’m just having a shit time with all of these nightmares.