Bridezilla lives!

I have achieved Dress. A dress, she has been bought. The dress which will be worn to the ceremony we call "Wedding" - that dress, the Ultimate Dress, is now hanging in my closet. WHOOPEE! It was slightly more expensive than I had been hoping for, but I (or rather my mom) had to buy it, because I'm sorry, it was The Dress. The One. The dress that every woman dreams about, the dress that is half-reality, half-myth - the dress that flatters my figure, makes my ass look small and my boobs look...OK, not big, but a good size anyway--and that actually makes my back, normally a no-man's land of flab and poor posture, appear svelte and toned. Sadly, I had to let another dress go that I was for the most part in love with except for the bodice, which was strapless and therefore unflattering - I need boobage enhancement, not boobage smooshment, which is what most strapless dresses seem to tend towards, plus I have this weird issue with armpit rolls of craptacular fatness. But other than that, the whole thing was lovely lovely lovely. *Sigh* But I'm still happy with the one I have, which really was much more flattering, and now I get to gaze at it with affection for another year.

So maybe the date still hasn't been set nor the venue booked, but the dress is good to go.

I am a monster

This is according to Easy's new vet. To hear her tell it, I am a negligent asshole who shouldn't be left in charge of life forms any more complex than a begonia, much less sentient beings. Apparently I have single-handedly ripped Easy's kidneys to shreds by not getting her teeth cleaned regularly (which by the way, costs more than getting my own damn teeth cleaned, something I've only managed to do about twice in the past five years due to my crippling poverty problem), and by just in general being a lousy excuse for a human being. I have also damaged her 14-year-old joints by not feeding her special glucosomine supplements, and have made her a dumpy, bedraggled shell of a feline by not taking her to the groomers to get her matts shaved off.

Well, sorry.

And then we find out that Easy's kidney disease has progressed (no doubt because I am a terrible person), and that she will likely need to be given fluids through an IV a few times a week for the rest of her life. We've not been told yet how much this treatment is going to cost, but I can't wait to see the look on the vet's face when I tell her we can't afford it.

In other news, I am thoroughly enjoying Behind the Scenes in the Museum, and I feel bad about what I said in my last post. It is utterly charming and witty and is no less of a piece of literature just because it happens to be entertaining rather than depressing.