Isn't it sad that one of my guilty pleasure food is Kentucky Fried Chicken, who happens to be one of the most hated fast food by PETA (google it if you don't know who they are)? I just read how they handle the chicken and I was shocked to the core. The abuse of the chicken is totally beyond believe. How the heeeeeelllll do they do it? Removing the beak off the chicken so that they won't attack each other and slitting the throat while they are still concious and are able to feel the pain.
And they freaking scald the chicken alive in tanks of HOT WATER.
O my God.
Are they freaking crazy????
I let a lady bug live in my apartment on winter though I'm phobic to flying bugs, while they are playing Texas Chainsaw Massacre with the chicken.
If you believe in reincarnation, don't you start to wonder what the next life will be for those farm slaughter house operators? I'm putting my money on them born as a KFC chick.
Karma is a bitch.
I'm not eating meat tomorrow.
And though not intentionally, I didn't eat meat the whole day today. I'm so proud of myself. One baby step at a time.
For full story, go here and weep: http://www.kentuckyfriedcruelty.com/kfcsays.asp
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
105 years
Both my dogs are sick, and I'm so damn worried because, they're like my babies. The doctor has diagnosed one of them of a heart problem, and I don't know what's wrong about the other one yet. I pray to God, please God, if you have to take them, don't make them suffer beforehand. Let them die in their sleep and preferably after a very good meal. I am devestated now because I forgot to kiss them goodbye before I went back here. I was late and just stormed out with my luggages without giving them a hug and a kiss.This apparently has become a habbit, the storming out without kissing them goodbye.
I know it's about time because 15 years times 7 dog year yields 105 years (my my, aren't we old.) and I should be prepared, and yet, I am not.
They have gone through most (if not all) adolecense period of my life, including the period when I cried behind closed door for whatever reasons.
They have also barked on all of my exes, become friends with them and forgot about them because I broke up with them. Boy, they should've barked some more. The irony is, they haven't barked on my future husband yet. The one that they should've really barked on then made friends with.
Despite that, I don't wish them to have longer and longer life, I don't know if they are tired of it anymore, being sick like that, I just wish them a peaceful 'let-go'. And I will deal my pain when they leave. And eventually I will be fine, as long as they leave without suffering.
I hope God forgive the white one, for all the mice she had killed in the past. I think it's the only form of recreation one can have behind 6 foot high fences. And also forgive the black one, for all the human calves he had sinked his teeth in. No, wait, that was also the white one.
Of all my life, they are the creatures that have given me the kind of unconditional adoration and love and forever I will look back and cherish every single lick they have given me, as stinky as it might be.
Sigh...
And just now, the pain starts crawling in my chest and I just want to bury my face in my pillows.
I know it's about time because 15 years times 7 dog year yields 105 years (my my, aren't we old.) and I should be prepared, and yet, I am not.
They have gone through most (if not all) adolecense period of my life, including the period when I cried behind closed door for whatever reasons.
They have also barked on all of my exes, become friends with them and forgot about them because I broke up with them. Boy, they should've barked some more. The irony is, they haven't barked on my future husband yet. The one that they should've really barked on then made friends with.
Despite that, I don't wish them to have longer and longer life, I don't know if they are tired of it anymore, being sick like that, I just wish them a peaceful 'let-go'. And I will deal my pain when they leave. And eventually I will be fine, as long as they leave without suffering.
I hope God forgive the white one, for all the mice she had killed in the past. I think it's the only form of recreation one can have behind 6 foot high fences. And also forgive the black one, for all the human calves he had sinked his teeth in. No, wait, that was also the white one.
Of all my life, they are the creatures that have given me the kind of unconditional adoration and love and forever I will look back and cherish every single lick they have given me, as stinky as it might be.
Sigh...
And just now, the pain starts crawling in my chest and I just want to bury my face in my pillows.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
These past weeks I'm busy like crazy at work. I wish I have more time to send news to my friends and family, but what can I say? I'm a work slave. This will be over next week though and the 'torch' will be passed to another victim to do the 'weekend and night on-call' rotation.
I've been thinking about all the things I need to catch up to live up to that "Work hard play harder" phrase. He he he (cunning laugh).
Anyway, I have been lobbying my way to my parents on my wedding, especially the particular battle about how many guests to invite. She wanted a total of a thousand guests, and I nearly fainted when I first heard it.
I bid for 5 hundred max. Including our humongous extended family members. Let me tell you something quite frankly, I have more aunts than uncles just because most of my uncles got married more than once. And that, my friend, is why I have so many relatives (aside from the fact that contraceptives were not easily accessible at that time,... I guess).
So, after months and months of not talking about the wedding, the topic crawled up and my mom was actually warming up about the idea of 500 people and started to see my point of view, because I told her, I'd rather have small one but full of people I know than a big one with people I've never seen in my life. I want it to be personal and memorable.
Thinking that this problem was solved, I emailed my dad for him to start doing his guest list. and his reply was: No problem, I'll invite my business friends, so I think we're good for about a thousand people.
Oy...!
I've been thinking about all the things I need to catch up to live up to that "Work hard play harder" phrase. He he he (cunning laugh).
Anyway, I have been lobbying my way to my parents on my wedding, especially the particular battle about how many guests to invite. She wanted a total of a thousand guests, and I nearly fainted when I first heard it.
I bid for 5 hundred max. Including our humongous extended family members. Let me tell you something quite frankly, I have more aunts than uncles just because most of my uncles got married more than once. And that, my friend, is why I have so many relatives (aside from the fact that contraceptives were not easily accessible at that time,... I guess).
So, after months and months of not talking about the wedding, the topic crawled up and my mom was actually warming up about the idea of 500 people and started to see my point of view, because I told her, I'd rather have small one but full of people I know than a big one with people I've never seen in my life. I want it to be personal and memorable.
Thinking that this problem was solved, I emailed my dad for him to start doing his guest list. and his reply was: No problem, I'll invite my business friends, so I think we're good for about a thousand people.
Oy...!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Even the demon spitted it out
Let me tell you a story about a demon that bit my mom's hand.
The story goes like this: A demon approached my mom, and then out of the blue he just bit her hand, ... wait, I think it's her arm instead.
Then he chewed it a bit, but then spit it out.
He grumbled: "Ugh,... it's not tasty!"
And then he left.
And my mom woke up.
And hence the story about my mom got bitten by a bloody ass demon.
So I told her that she needs to eat more fatty food and gain weight, she's so fat-less that there is no juice in her meat.
The story goes like this: A demon approached my mom, and then out of the blue he just bit her hand, ... wait, I think it's her arm instead.
Then he chewed it a bit, but then spit it out.
He grumbled: "Ugh,... it's not tasty!"
And then he left.
And my mom woke up.
And hence the story about my mom got bitten by a bloody ass demon.
So I told her that she needs to eat more fatty food and gain weight, she's so fat-less that there is no juice in her meat.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
'Almost' is the keyword
I almost got hit by a car over the weekend, and that was my fault.
I didn't even look in the mirror when going out from my parking spot.
That's what I do when I'm emo.
Total self destruction.
I was having fight with my boyfriend that time just because I was stubborn and short tempered and took his sincere gesture as something negative.
Damn this PMS!
But, really though, I gotta tell you, parking is crappy in downtown. Why do they cost so much, and why does it have very little parking spaces? And when they provide you some, they put this sign with a list of restrictions and some twist hoping that you would fail to fully crack the code and break the rule and they can tow your car for you to pay $210.
And why does every freaking car in Chicago drive like a maniac?
And when you signal to change lane they speed up to make sure that you can't get in.
And I despise those crazy drivers who honk the exact moment the light turns green.
That is my pet peeve. I really want to stop right there and then, just for the sake of pissing him back.
I told my boyfriend, seriously, that I should bring the driving manual, (you know, the one issued by the State) with me when I drive, so I can wave it around and yell "Read this!" when someone cut my lane without signalling, or do whatever stupidity that I might come across on the road.
But, he laughed out loud and made me laughed too and now I feel like a loony whenever I bring the topic. He killed my idea.
Then, last weekend I almost got into an accident. So, for all fairness, I think I should wave it to myself.
Back to the fight, well, for those who know me very very well, I am short tempered and very drama-queenish, but I can't stay mad for a too long of a period of time (unless it's really disgustingly bad, then yeah, you don't want to press my button). Besides, my boyfriend's soft spot is happened to be...
me.
So, it was over before we even get back to the suburb.
We're so good at ending a fight, it's almost like we have lots of practice, when we actually don't.
Anyway, presentations were over today, I was just glad and went directly to Trader Joe's. What a recreation.
I didn't even look in the mirror when going out from my parking spot.
That's what I do when I'm emo.
Total self destruction.
I was having fight with my boyfriend that time just because I was stubborn and short tempered and took his sincere gesture as something negative.
Damn this PMS!
But, really though, I gotta tell you, parking is crappy in downtown. Why do they cost so much, and why does it have very little parking spaces? And when they provide you some, they put this sign with a list of restrictions and some twist hoping that you would fail to fully crack the code and break the rule and they can tow your car for you to pay $210.
And why does every freaking car in Chicago drive like a maniac?
And when you signal to change lane they speed up to make sure that you can't get in.
And I despise those crazy drivers who honk the exact moment the light turns green.
That is my pet peeve. I really want to stop right there and then, just for the sake of pissing him back.
I told my boyfriend, seriously, that I should bring the driving manual, (you know, the one issued by the State) with me when I drive, so I can wave it around and yell "Read this!" when someone cut my lane without signalling, or do whatever stupidity that I might come across on the road.
But, he laughed out loud and made me laughed too and now I feel like a loony whenever I bring the topic. He killed my idea.
Then, last weekend I almost got into an accident. So, for all fairness, I think I should wave it to myself.
Back to the fight, well, for those who know me very very well, I am short tempered and very drama-queenish, but I can't stay mad for a too long of a period of time (unless it's really disgustingly bad, then yeah, you don't want to press my button). Besides, my boyfriend's soft spot is happened to be...
me.
So, it was over before we even get back to the suburb.
We're so good at ending a fight, it's almost like we have lots of practice, when we actually don't.
Anyway, presentations were over today, I was just glad and went directly to Trader Joe's. What a recreation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)