Professional Artwork

By professional, I mean... I make art... While getting paid. I suppose if you wanted to get super technical, you could argue that doodling on post-its is not technically what I'm being paid FOR, but there's no need to split hairs. So, with no further ado and also no further explanation, here is a collection of post-it drawings I have made over the course of my illustrious cubicle-sitting career:

Wait for it...

There's a big awesome post coming, you guys. Promise. You will note that there is a fancy new addition to my blog here on the right hand side of the screen... Or just right, for those of you without hands.

Right there.

At the top.

It's black and white and yellow.

(gestures to the right)

Yes, that.

Once that countdown reaches zero, I'll probably disappear from the internet for a few days. Then I promise I'll blog the crap out of everything. But before then, I've got no time and no brain power for being as hilarious and insightful as I'd like... For those of you that enjoy my words and also photographs with grainy filters, I've caved and gotten an Instagram account, and you can follow me (jacquelineada). Feel free to enjoy my crappy phone pictures and limited-character observations of the world. Maybe I'll even get a Twitter, if I'm feeling adventurous! (lololol, I'm not gonna get a Twitter)

In the meantime, I'll try to get some little posts out to keep y'all entertained!

Keep checking in for updates and so I can feel important when I look at my blog stats...

Peace.

Part 2: The Best Day

...so far.

Ladies and gents, allow me to introduce to you the most favorite Friend of Nigel (Hamster-God rest his soul):

This is Daniel. He's in soft focus because he's too awesome for regular style cartoon drawings. Daniel and I met... in the past... at some point... (we don't really remember when). We've been friends for nigh unto three years now, and about half a year ago we decided there was no good reason why we shouldn't be dating. 

After a couple of dates, things were going pretty ok, but we had one major difference, and that was that we had very different ideas where we were going in our lives. Then one day after we'd been dating for a couple of weeks, Daniel and I were in his car and he said to me, "Well, things are going spectacularly so far, and as far as I can see, we have about three options. One: we can just break up right this moment, call it square and remember the good times. Two: we can keep dating, but somewhere down the road, our differences are going to cause us some degree of difficulty, and we'll be forced to end it anyways, and it will be horrible and tragic because we've gotten attached to each other. Three: one of us can change our minds, and we could get married." 

At which point, my reaction was somewhere along these lines...

After recovering from my crippling attack of gamophobia, I decided that I really liked his dimples, so the conclusion was that we would stick it out and see where it led. The subject of long-term commitment would come up every now and again, and my feelings on the matter were generally the same. Every conversation ended with me trying to decide what would happen if I just got in my car and drove until I ran out of gas or something. I really wasn't that accustomed to the idea of staying with someone for longer than the amount of time it took me to become bored of a TV show, and just thinking about it filled me with with so much panic, I think my organs actually shut down a couple times.

He said to me once, over milkshakes, "You know, I think if things were a little different, it would pretty much be Game Over. I mean, you're the girl I want to marry." Fun fact about this particular occasion (although I may be wrong and if I am I'm sure I'll hear from him later), but when he said that, he hadn't even decided that he was comfortable enough in our relationship to tell me that he loved me. But he planned to marry me. Or at least, someone exactly like me but with slightly different qualifications.

Now... some of you may remember an earlier post of mine about my feelings in regards to dating and courtship, and I can tell you right now that I feel quite sorry for poor Daniel and everything he's had to put up with over the course of our relationship. But he did, in fact, manage to survive those first few months, despite his apparent efforts to turn me into a total basket case.

And one day, as we were sitting in Costa Vida in the middle of the day making fun of the weirdos that are at Costa Vida in the middle of the day, Daniel said these words:

"You know... I think we could make it work. Like... financially."

And I foolishly said, "Make what work?" Thinking maybe he had some sort of heist or perhaps business venture in mind.

And he said, "Well I mean, I own my truck, and you've got your car, and your job has pretty good insurance and you make good money, and I'll be done with college in a couple of years, and (words words words, he went on for a while), and I just think that we could probably pull off getting married with the way things are right now."

And I heard the following words come out of my mouth, albeit a bit strangled and squeaky:

"Y...yeah, I guess you're right."

It was at this point that I officially abandoned reality and resolved to live in the woods forever, because in no universe I was part of would I agree to wed, and definitely not at 20 years of age. Fortunately for Daniel, I realized that I had to work that day, so I couldn't run away forever. And my shift gave me enough time to step back from the edge and realize that marrying Daniel would be the opposite of the end of the world. 

So fast forward a while. A couple of months, I would think. Now it's The Worst Day. 

I was a complete devastated mess. And on top of that, I hadn't seen Daniel that whole day because he was busy with work and school and whatever other nonsense gentlemen of his age get themselves up to. And the next day he was too busy again, and then the day after that he had some time, but he insisted on going to my house rather than us going back to his. And the next day, it was Valentine's Day. 

We had both been so busy, we hadn't really managed to make real plans for our first Valentine's together. Daniel had told me a few days before that he made reservations at Olive Garden for us, which was clever, because no way are you going to get a table if you walk into Olive Garden on the night of Valentine's.

I got home from work that night, and had to talk myself out of eating food, because we were getting dinner. So naturally, by the time Daniel called, I was starving.

"I'll be there in about 20 minutes," he said, "I know it's a little late, but I checked and they can hold our reservation."

"Ok, sounds good," I said, silently weeping tears of starvation.

When he came to pick me up a few minutes later, I jumped into his truck, all excited to go, and he said to me, "Do you mind if we stop by my house? I have a gift certificate for our dinner there, but I left it at home and haven't had a chance to go pick it up."

"Sure thing," I said, and died a little inside.

I had a hilarious story that I wanted to tell his parents, so I wasn't too sad about going by his house for a bit.

As we pulled up, I saw that his father's truck wasn't there, so I was a little disappointed. But that was ok, it meant we could be in and out and to food in no time!

We walked in the door, and I was greeted with the following sight and the sound of romantic music:

My first impression, being unaccustomed to such awesomeness on the part of boyfriends, was that we had inadvertently stumbled into someone else's Valentine. I instinctively tried to creep backward out the door, but Daniel nudged me in and presented me with daisies (my most favorite flower). It was then that I realized the whole setup was for me, and in awe of the presentation, I uttered the first phrase that came to my mind...

Then I turned and realized that he was doing the whole one-knee thing, and he said something terrifically romantic like "Uh, hmm. I hadn't really thought what I was going to say... this is... weird... Will you let me make you happy forever? Or something?"

"Yes of course I will marry you," I said, "Now can we eat food?"

And scene.

Anywho, there you have it ladies and gents! I, your friendly neighborhood infrequent blogger, am getting married and stuff! In lieu of presents, please send gifts. Or just cash is cool too. 

In summation, here is a reference guide for all the best things about my groom-to-be, just in case you neglected to appreciate his full magnificence.

1. His terrific pointy hair, which my mother mocks constantly, but which I think is quite cool and manly and stuff.

2. He has grand eyebrows. Which is a thing... I just really like his eyebrows. Stop judging me.

3. Even though in this picture, his eyeballs are just scribbly black ovals, in real life they are a lovely blue. Which means our children will almost certainly have blue eyes.

4. That arrow may look like it is also pointing to his hair, but it's actually pointing to his brain. Which is inside his head, where a proper brain should be. It's much smarter than mine. 

5. His little scruffy beard is another point of ridicule from my mother, but I appreciate a man that can grow any sort of facial hair and not look like a total douche.

6. One of my most favorite characteristics is his adorable dimples! Pretty much that's what attracted me to him in the first place. He should be grateful for those dimples. They've saved his butt many times.

7. He doesn't think so, but his arms are pretty freakin' buff. And I like his muscles. Even if he doesn't think he has any. Which he does. 

8. He can pull off purple really well.

And guys... this is the only time I will ever admit this on the internet, but I figure it should be said. Should anyone ever come under the impression that I don't love him more than all of the things in the world combined, allow me to dissuade you of that notion. I adore this man in all the grossest ways you could ever think of. It's like... all the chick flicks ever, except that I'm not a vapid moron, and I have control of all my faculties, and I still love him that much. I realize I'm not a super affectionate person all the time in public, and I most definitely tease and joke about not wanting to get married, but it's the one decision in my life I have ever been absolutely, 100% sure about. If you ever hear me make a crack about relationships and such, realize that I'm crazy for this dude, but I've got to keep up comedic appearances. It's all part of the job. 

Here's a gross picture of us to prove my affection:

Ugh. Look how happy we are. Nasty.

Part 1: The Worst Day

Hey there, internet friends. Me again.

I realize it's been a while since I last posted, and I'm sure some of you are wondering what ever happened with Nigel's hurty leg.

Well... On Monday, February 11, I woke up to give him his medicine as per usual.

Because I am a slacker and like to sleep in as long as humanly possible, it was about 7:15 at this point. It was about 15 minutes before I had to leave to go to work, and I was barely rolling out of bed when I went to give Nigel his medicine. In the back of my brain, sometimes I tell myself that if I had been awake earlier, maybe things would have gone differently, but there's not much you can do to change the past.

This particular morning, I reached into Nigel's cage to grab him, and for some reason my hand came away sticky.

It turns out, during the night Nigel's leg had swollen so much that it actually split the skin, and he was losing quite a bit of blood.

Now, obviously hamsters don't really have a lot of blood to lose, so naturally I panicked. I called the animal emergency room and shouted at them "Nigel! He needs help! He's bleeding everywhere..." And they said "Ok ok, is Nigel a cat or a dog?" And I said "...um. None of the above?"

Turns out, the animal ER only takes "regular" pets. Apparently since hamsters are exotics, they have to go to the vet if there's an emergency. The only issue was that the vet didn't open for another hour and a half, so I had to try and stop the bleeding myself with tissues and hope. Eventually he stopped losing so much blood, but by this point he was woozy and started to pass out a little.

After far too long, I finally took Nigel in to the vet right as they were opening.

"What's the problem here?" they said.

"Um," I said, and put him on the counter.

"Oh my!" they said, and rushed him back to the doctor.

I was left to wait in the lobby, with no idea what would happen to my furry friend.

What felt like an eternity later, a nurse came out and gave me the good ol' "You should probably come back here."

There aren't going to be any more drawings after this because what followed was too sad, so you'll just have to imagine. But don't imagine too much detail, or you'll be depressed forever.

I was escorted back to an examination room where Nigel and I had been the week before to get his medicine. Nigel was sitting on the table again, trying to run around and dragging his leg behind him. The doctors explained to me that the swelling in Nigel's leg wasn't an infection, like we had hoped, but was actually a tumor that had almost doubled in size in the week since we had been in.

"But... can't we just amputate the leg?" I asked, "Like you said last week? Can't we save him?"

As it turns out, the cancer had spread from his leg, up through his abdomen, and was starting to turn up in his other leg. As things stood, he only had about a week, maybe a week and a half to live. And it wasn't going to be a pleasant week.

The nurses gave me a little time alone with Nigel before we made a decision, and as I held him in my hands, he crawled up in my coat sleeve and hunkered down. He stayed there all the way through my discussion with the doctors, through the final decision, and through the filling out of the paperwork.

Finally the nurse came to take him away for the very last time, and he clung to my shirt with every teeny tiny ounce of strength he had left in his body. She held my poor, shivering little friend in one hand and gave me a hug with the other. Now, those that know me well know that I am not a generally weepy person, but I will openly admit that a shed several tears that day.

A special thanks to the staff of the Clearfield Veterinary Clinic for their care and concern for Nigel and for me, 

for the poems and cards I've received from them, even a month later,

and for their genuine love for animals, no matter the size.

I still sometimes look for him when it's feeding time, but it's only just little Bandy in there all alone. The poor thing has been a little bit neglected since Nigel has been gone. I cleaned the blood from the cage and replaced the bedding, but it took me two weeks to replace the water. And I didn't clean the cage again for another month. People keep asking me if I'm going to get another hamster or if I'm going to give Bandy away, but at this point... I've made the decision to not decide for a while.

Who Needs Legs Anyway?

Well, it has been a few days since we went to the vet, and there hasn't been much improvement, sadly...

It could be that the antibiotics are just working their way through his system and they haven't really taken effect yet. In the meantime, getting Nigel to take his medicine has been quite the fun experience. He has to take one drop of an anti-inflammatory twice a day, and then three drops of the antibiotics three times a day. To get the medicine in him, I have a couple of little plastic syringes that I get to stick in his little mouth and shoot the deliciousness right down his throat. Poor little guy, it smells awful.

Also, here is a picture I forgot to post last time. This is my little friend getting ready to go to the vet for the first time. Imagine sad music playing in the background as you view this picture through your tears.

You can kind of see his little leg all hurt, over there on the top right. Fortunately this picture obscures most of his actual leg, because in full view it's pretty gross and horrifying.

But I still love him.

We Learn Things

Greetings, Internet Friends! It sure has been a while. I figured now was a good time to give you an update on how things are going with Nigel! And the answer is...

...not so good.

A couple weeks back, I noticed that Nigel had been walking with a bit of a limp. I didn't really take much note of it, because in all honesty, Nigel is almost two years old. That's like 60 in hamster years. Maybe more. Anywho, yesterday morning I woke up to check on my furry friends, and I was shocked and horrified to discover that what had been a barely noticeable injury had caused his left leg to swell to about four times its normal size. So of course, being me, I freaked the crap out and called every vet in the tri-state area.

Hamster medical care is kind of tough, because not all vets deal with such small little animals. Hamsters are considered "exotic" pets by your average veterinary practice. Fortunately though, the nearest exotics clinic happens to be across the street from my house. I took off work early and hurried home as fast as I could, got Nigel all ready to go, and rushed to our appointment. 

I ended up getting myself so flustered running out the door, I forgot my keys twice, and then I forgot Nigel...

 The doctors at the the clinic where I went were so nice to me and to Nigel, and they told us that hopefully it's just an infection. We came home with some antibiotics and anti-inflammatory meds that will hopefully take care of the swelling. If the swelling doesn't go down after a while, though, it could possibly be bone or lymph node cancer. If that's the case, we will maybe need an x-ray to determine the extend of the sickness, and it's possible they might have to amputate his little leg.

If anyone's cool enough to pull off three limbs, it's Nigel. But for now, we're hoping the medicine works and he gets back to his old self. Personally, I'm just glad he's ok and home for the time being. 

Happy Hamsterween, Everyone!