No Blaise: Dog Motherhood pt. 4954930

March 4th, 2015

I didn’t post last week because I was knee deep in dog mom duties. Two weeks ago Belle was lazing around and had some major stomach growling going on. She has a tendency to eat things she’s not supposed to, mostly articles of clothing, so I figured she’d just done that again. But then stopped eating, and being the over-mother-er that I am, the whole not eating thing was not something I could just sit back and watch happen. So last Monday I took her into the vet after work.

We get into the exam room, and I tell the vet all about her weird poop and stomach aches and not eating. Then, she does the vet and me a favor but starting to poop all over the room. That’s when I take a moment to reflect on the amount of small animals poop I deal with on a daily basis. I snap out of it when the vet lists the different things it could be. Maybe she ate underwear and it’s stuck in her system somewhere, maybe she got fed too much people food, maybe she has parasites.

I live such a glamorous life.

Then she launches into all the procedures she could do to figure out what exactly was wrong. She could either assume it’s a stomach problem, which is probably is, and give me some meds and have me make her chicken and rice to eat for the next two weeks which would cost me about $150. Or, she could assume it’s something more serious and she could do x-rays and some other medical jargon procedures which would cost me about $500. Now, I love my dog very much but I also love eating and sleeping with a roof over my head.

I told her just to run the cheap tests, including a test of her poop. She takes Belle back to get those tests and then comes out front to meet me with three meds. One is antibiotics, one is a probiotic, and one is dog pepto bismol. Oh, and she’s still in the back getting fluid “under the skin”, which I just smile and nod at because what does that even mean. She then asks me what food I have been feeding her, and when I tell her she says, “Well no wonder she’s not feeling well!” and proceeds to tell me how I’ve been feeding my dog the McDonalds of dog food since I got her in August.

“Oh, haha, ok, so I’m the fucking worst.”

The doctor gives me a list of foods that won’t make my dog fat and sick and tells me she’ll be right back with my dog and someone to drain my bank account.

Once I’ve got my dog back and paid my bill, the doctor lets me know that she’ll call me tomorrow with the results of her poop test.

Ah, something to look forward to.

Hey guess what she told me when she called the next day? That Belle has hookworms. Hookworms!? Mmmm k. Hookworms. Those sound horrifying.

I get to be at the vet twice in one week since I have to pick up another medicine for these godforsaken hookworms. The cherry on top is that this hookworm meds is administered is the same way you give a baby tylenol, by sucking it into a tube and shooting it into her mouth. Everyone just envision me doing this with what looks like thick milk at about 8am every morning for the past five days. As if 8am weren’t a bad enough time of day, I am now spending it pinning a dog down and forcing medicine into her mouth.

Good fucking morning.

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No Blaise: Galentines Day

February 18th, 2015

As I like to do with most things in my life, I decided to follow in Leslie Knope’s footsteps and make this Valentines Day all about girl power, and thereby celebrated Galentines Day.

For those of you reading who don’t know what Galentines Day is, it is exactly what it sounds like: a day dedicated to showing mad love to your gals. My roommates and I decided to do this by celebrating during our favorite time of day, brunch, with our favorite things, an immense amount of food and alcohol.

Specifically, this means I made enough food for a galentines day army, and we set up both a bloody mary and mimosa bar. Then some gals came over, while our gals who live in other states for galentines day cards in the mail, and we proceeded to eat and talk and drink. I would like to say the single ladies portion of this brunch didn’t consist of complaining about how disappointing most men have turned out to be, but this may have occurred during the portion of the night when I went into my bloody mary fog. My memory is mostly filled with people saying how they loved the food and eating and me trying to get people to try my “pancake muffins”, which I thought were an incredible brunch idea but turned out to be a mostly uninteresting dish. Maybe this is why Pinterest didn’t want to let me in, they knew I’d abuse my power..

Have I mentioned the galentines day back drop I made for photos? Have I lost all craft self control?

If I have, it’s probably with all of my other self control and if you find any of it, let me know.

All in all, I was proud of myself for celebrating my good people on a day that would otherwise be spent creating voodoo dolls and committing arson. Maybe this means I’m becoming mature, but it more likely  means I’m just sick of draining my energy on negative thoughts and unimportant people. Either way, this galentines day was a step for this otherwise cynical human.

AND! Not only did I have a galentines day brunch, I also got to go to a fancy dinner with the people I’ve been in a relationship with the longest–my family. Though it was because my little sister turned 23 to which my father responded “Nora, you are approaching 30.” Happiness all around.

The downfall of this holiday was that due to my self appointed bed time of two hours before everyone else goes to sleep, I missed the photoshoot that happened in front of my overly crafty backdrop.

Maybe next year.

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No Blaise: Too Old for This Sh*t

February 11th, 2015

As you all may know from my excessive ranting that I took the ACT last Saturday. Being the mom that I am, I brought extra pencils and proceeded to pass them out to three high school students who apparently did not think you needed pencils to take the ACT.

Ah, youth.

Overall, I think I did fine on the English/Reading/Writing sections, which is good since I spent five years of college learning those things. Math was going fine, I had answered 40/60 questions answered and was feeling ok. Then the proctor tells us we have five minutes left.

Well, shit.

I figure the strategy of answering “C” for all the answers you don’t know, the one I learned 500 years ago when I first took the ACT, has probably expired so I just fill in letters at random and hope for the best. Which is sort of how the first forty questions went anyway.

After math I get to take the reading part of the test which makes me feel better about myself, but only slightly because it still took  me the entire time allotted to complete that part of the test. To make matter worse, the Science test came next, and I don’t even know how I did on that part of the test because I slept walked through the whole thing.

Last, and certainly not least, was the writing test. Thank goodness for this beautiful piece of an otherwise confidence murdering test. The cherry on the cake of this morning was the question the writing test asked. It was something about what I thought about high school students contributing to an online forum in their English class. I started into the question happily, had a set opinion and was writing clearly. Then it struck me. Here I was, a 26 year old taking the ACT in a room full of 17 year old teenagers writing about my opinion on an English class that they all were probably taking. I gave away three pencils to the answer to the writing section of my ACT test.

If this wasn’t bad enough, when I reached the end of my essay I realized I’d used the phrase “in this day and age” twice.

What have I become?

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No Blaise: Testing, testing..

February 4th, 2015

This Saturday will mark my second attempt at passing a standardized test during my graduate school career. I opted for the ACT this time around. The Test of Academic Proficiency (TAP) that I took a few months ago turned out to be harder to navigate than my  love life, and possibly took longer to get over than any of my relationships.

Another reason that standardized tests are evil.

Unlike the TAP where I just took (and failed) a bunch of practice tests in preparation, I learned my lesson and bought a ginormous ACT study book.

Princeton Review’s 2015 edition…check please.

The first section in the book is English, and having my undergraduate degree in English I hoped this section wouldn’t be one that gave me nightmares the way I knew Math would. Luckily I was sort of right, except that I had to reteach myself a lot of basic grammar. Good news was that I did still know how to read.

After doing pretty well on the practice test I moved onto the next section: MATH. The dreaded, terrible, bane of my existence subject that dumped me during the TAP. Things are a little different this time around because the ACT allows you to use a calculator for the math portion, unlike the TAP that expects you to work everything out on scratch paper like cavemen. I still don’t understand the no calculator concept. I am going to be a kindergarten or preschool teacher, these math concepts will not apply to my area of teaching. And even if they did, I would use a fucking calculator.

According to the ACT prep book words like “reciprocal” and “integer” were math terms I knew at some point in high school. Thank goodness for Google and it’s ability to teach  me everything I need to know. And a lot of things I don’t need to know.

I keep telling myself that I’m going to take the math practice test, sit down to do it, and then find something on instagram that needs to be investigated. Seeing as how the test is in three days,  I’m hoping that either I gain some semblance of an attention span or instagram shuts down. Along with every other app on my phone.

Here are my goals before Saturday:

1) Learn math

2) Actually learn math

3) Find a functioning calculator

4) Go to the history museum and buy #2 pencils

5) Turn my brain on

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No Blaise: Play Class

January 28th, 2015

Have I written a blog about play class already? I probably have, but my life has become so repetitive that only small details of my day to day change, but the overall routine has become quite a cycle.

So, I have play class with the boys I nanny every Wednesday and Friday. We’ve been going since August, and took a break over the holidays. The class started up again at the beginning of this month and most of the faces, both adult and baby, were the familiar, with a few newbies thrown in there.

Most people would be like “oh, that’s cool, you get to meet some new people in your area that maybe the boys can become friends with.” But for me it’s a different story. I’ve got two little boys who were born on the same day, but aren’t related, and apparently Greyson and I have some resemblance because everyone assumes I am his mother. Or they assume that Calvin and him are twins and so I am both their mothers which means that some of the people in the class think I have the body of someone who gave birth to twins in the last year. On the other hand it could also mean it seems like I’m the kind of person who has my life together enough to both have twins and have them enrolled in a play class, this I’m more ok with.

I was almost through explaining the actual situations to all the other adults at play class when the holidays hit. Just another thing to blame on the holidays besides an empty wallet–play class confusion.

“Are they yours?”

“No I’m their nanny.”

“Oh, how old are they?”

“They turned one in November.”


“No, they were just born on the same day. But they’re not related.”

“Ohhh how do they know each other?”

“Their dads worked together.”

“Ohhh how do you know them?”

“My mom works with Calvins mom.”

“Ohhhh…(insert one more random statement about them or me or maybe even a “Good for you!”)”

Did I mention that the class goes from 10:30am-11:45am, a time that I still consider part of my five hour wake up time. I do not like to include smiling or talking in my wake up time, and those conversations require both.

Is this growing up?

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No Blaise: Knitting

January 21st, 2015

Every so often my stress about my life and where it’s going will get so high that I’ll decide to pick up a new hobby. These have been knitting, juice cleanses, reading the Harry Potter series from start to finish, dating, making my own almond milk, growing my nails out, a new iphone game, and now it’s back to knitting.

My refreshed love for knitting comes at a time when I am both really stressed out and really looking for a way to procrastinate that doesn’t include being on instagram for five hours and then realizing when I’m a photo of Kylie Jenner’s page that’s 40 weeks old that I need to get off my phone and stop frying my brain. Instead of transferring my brain power to the school work I could be doing while the boys I nanny nap, I decide on one of the above hobbies. And sometimes this “hobby” means digging around the house for food I would like.

Now that knitting is my hobby I’m sure you all are hoping it sticks so that you can have an original No Blaise Scarf or pot holder. Maybe someday you’ll get a hat. According to the knitting blogs knitting just about anything is “much easier than it looks” which means that they know how to do it and so they took pictures of themselves doing it and hopefully you figure it out. After watching three youtube videos, I can finally say I know how to do a basic stitch. I am going to be satisfied with this learning for the next year.

Again, this learning power could have been utilized for grad school, but a girls gotta have interests.

The first item on my list of “to make” is a dog scarf for Belle. I chose this because I want to eventually make a real scarf for someone, mainly myself, and making a smaller version for my dog somehow works for me. I’m also a crazy dog lady, which may have influenced the decision.

I started my new hobby yesterday and it took me pretty much all day how to figure out the basics. By the time I got home from work, the boys had napped long enough that I’d been able to make slight progress on the dog scarf. Unfortunately, I messed something up that I couldn’t redo so I had to scrap my first dog scarf. Luckily, it came out at just the right size for a dog bonnet. And what dog doesn’t need a dog bonnet this time of year? Since I have the perfect dog model, I took a picture of her modeling the first item in my dog clothes line, “Classy Bitch”. Get your first look below:



Classy Bitch; SS15

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No Blaise: Break Breakdown

January 14th, 2015

Never in my life did I think I would complain about having too much time off, especially from school. But, here I am, proclaiming that I did not enjoy the month and a half break that DePaul gave me from school. I really, truly, didn’t.

Initially, I was happy to just go to and from work and then be able to come home without a care in the world and start drinking wine as soon as my feet were in the door. The hangover at work was manageable, and I could take naps because of the whole no school work thing.

I was livin the life.

Then two weeks before school started back up I realized that I was going to need to be a real person again and couldn’t sleep at every opportunity and would need to form real sentences. What was I going to do!? Let’s not forget that it was the holidays so my days off from work were spent consuming my champagne quota for the year, and then fighting off the horrible headache of a champagne hangover with a delicious bloody mary. Funny enough I didn’t drink any champagne on New Years, but still found it appropriate to consume two bloody marys on New Years Day. I’ll blame this on the brunch spot by my house that decided to put beef jerky and a mozzarella stick in their bloodys, making them completely irresistible.

But I digress…

I had some lucid moments during all this celebration and was able to order my school books. Another un-fun part of being a real person–dropping $250 on school books.

Since I am student teaching one day a week this quarter, my first class was a lovely 8am-11am seminar that was a nice refresher on everything I’d learned last quarter. Thank goodness for that refresher because apparently I rung my brain out into the toilet and flushed my $5,000 worth of knowledge down the drain.

Blame it on the…

I should also mention that I spent the weekend before school started in a state of panic.

Now, here I am, a survivor. I made it to all my classes, as well as my first day of student teaching, and I have stayed awake through all of it. Though I did the  math, and in order for me to get my 75 hours of field work time for student teaching, I’m going to have to teach for 11 hours every Monday for the rest of the quarter. Oh, and I have two other classes besides my student teaching course. One is completely online, which I thought would make my life easier but it turns out online classes give just as much homework and require just as much brain power.

But I don’t have to physically be in a classroom for it so hey, thumbs up! One less day of social interaction for me!

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