KFKD

Yes bloggers, you've just tuned into KFKD (pronounced FUCKED) here on the West Five Two blogstation. I got my tax forms back anticipating a nice chunk back, but instead I get fucked in the ass by Uncle Sam. It seems that I owe the city of Cleve over $750.00, yes, that's seven-HUNDRED-and fifty (actually a little more), the Feds claim that I owe them $250.00, yes, that's two-HUNDRED-and fity (52 to be exact), and the state of Ohio has so graciously decided to return a whopping $82.00 to my bank account.

Now, for those of you who don't know, I work 3 jobs, yes THREE jobs, including weekends. My patients/clients consist of children w/ multiple handicaps, elderly individuals with varying/multiple diagnosis, and adult individuals whom are mentally ill. Now, almost none, yes NONE, of these clients/patients can afford to pay for my services, yet I got to work everyday, for three different NON-PROFIT organizations to make this a better society for all of us to enjoy. For what?

On top of working my ASS off, I am a homeowner at the ripe old age of 27 (actually made the purchase at 25) and I am single, with two dogs (more one them later). Now, all of the taxes/interest I've paid on my house, my car, my gasoline, my groceries, my clothing, etc. that I've purchased, all in this fucking city is apparently not enough for those greedy bastards, no they want MORE.

They want more because apparently when you don't work in the city, they feel they are entitled to 1% of the taxes you've paid to the other city(s) that you work in. So, I work in about 6 different cities, 3 of which I will refer to as my "home base" because I'm there the most. Two of those cities deduct 2.0% of my pay, and one deducts 2.25%, so Cleveland feels it's their right to have 1.0% of what I've paid out to these other cities, therefore penalizing me for not working in the land of Cleve. This I feel is total and complete BULLSHIT, and I will begin my hunt for jobs in Canada and/or Mexico very shortly. FUCK THE U.S. of A. is all I gotta say.

In other news, I read that the average salary for a professional baseball player is $3 million dollars. Now, "average" meaning some of these men make a hell of a lot more, to play a fucking game. I also read that Eminem and Kim have divorced AGAIN after just 82 days of marriage. Way to give it your all, what the fuck was the point of that?

Now, more on the dogs. Upon entering my home after having a near fatal cerebrovascular attack at the tax place, I am greeted by my two loving bitches. I let them outside as usual, they came back in and got a treat. I did notice that both treats fell onto the floor, but thought nothing of it. I walked to the pantry to get a handful of my trusty walnuts, when all I hear behind me are these horrible hissing/growling/snarling sounds coming from the bitches.

I can't turn around quick enough, they're already into, as if Sunday night just wasn't enough for them. I start to yell, "NO, NO, STOP" and they are just having at it like two wild bitches, round and round. This went on for what felt like 10 minutes, but may have only been 3, but it was plenty long enough for my liking. I grabbed my $19.99 Ikea chair to try to split them up (tip: NEVER touch dogs while they're fighting).

So, I'm trying to put the chair between the two of them, all the while screaming at both of them, while they trade ugly growls and high pitches noises at each other. I try in vain to separate the two of them w/ the chair. Finally I get them apart, poor Raja is pinned under the chair and Cody just won't fucking give up. Cody procedes to tug at Raja's neck and ears, pulling the skin/fur with all her might. I kept yelling "NO" and trying to use the chair to my advantage. I can tell Raja is hurting at this point.

So, I start to cry and scream "please just fukcing stop right now" because all I could think of was that Cody was going to kill Raja, causing me to put Cody to sleep, leaving me broken hearted and dogless. No, I couldn't let that happen, I'm a good dog owner.

Somehow I get Cody off of Raja, open the backdoor and shove Cody onto the porch using the trusty Ikea chair (which is now covered in saliva). I turn around and Raja is gone, blood is on the walls/floor. I run into my living room hysterical and there lays my little big one, with the saddest eyes I've ever looked into. It turns out that she is okay, just a little cut on each ear, and an enormously bruised ego.

Meanwhile, Cody is cooling off on the back porch, so I go out there and scold her little ass, then let her outside to get some air. Raja also follows out for some air. It appears that this scuffle literally scared the shit out of both of them, because they shit twice while outside. Upon re-enty into the West Five Two, Cody begins to lick Raja's wounds, as if to say she's sorry.

What a fucking day.

Medusa J