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Ebloggy.com has been working for a while now, but I haven't posted anything in it because I want my old HTML Templates back. But alas, I can't find them, because the old ebloggy isn't available!
So I have to find it somewhere, where it's no where..
I mean, I'm not so upset about my regular HTML template being messed, but my dreams template, and my daily scribblings layout were really good looking. :

Oh well. Rant time.

Last saturday, I went to work. And as everyone should know, I'm a playtime assocate at Best Friends, which is basically a temporary kennel for petsitting and grooming and such. And as the title implies, I play with the dogs.

Now, on an ideal day, someone pays $5 for a ten minute playtime. But with 100+ dogs to play with, we hardle give them the full ten minutes.
I give them five, usually.

Well, the first thing I get told when I walk in on one of our busy days (220ish dogs) is "You don't have to give them the full 10 minutes".
I've been working over there for a few weeks now, and I KID YOU NOT, every day someone says that to me. Every. Day.
I say, "Yeah, I know. I haven't been doing that since my first day."

So that gets me pissed.
Now, we have playrooms for dogs. And we recently had a staff meeting that said no playtimes outside. What we used to do when all the playrooms were full was take the dog on a walk outside. But now if we do that we get yelled out.

So I'm taking dogs to the playroom for, oh, one minute each, or two to three minutes if they actually want to play. Well, this girl comes up to me and says, "I've gotta clean the 4 doxens' cage. It'll only take five minutes."
She moves the doxens to the only playroom left. Which fills the playrooms. So I'm like, 'okay, fine. I can deal with only five minutes of hiding from my boss while taking dogs for walks'.
Five minutes passes.
The doxen cage is clean, hasn't been dried, and the doxens in the playroom are still in there. Girl is nowhere to be found.
'okay, she must be getting a squeegee; I can deal', I think to myself.

Now, my boss is a**l. If I get caught, I'm going to be yelled at like no tomorrow. And with the way Stevie(my boss) yells at me, she does it so well that it usually throws me into a panic attack. (I don't know how she does it, either. 0_0)

So I keep taking the dogs outside, getting madder and madder.
Until 30 minutes later, my boss comes up. Doxens still in playroom. Doxens' cage still soaking wet. "Do you know where [dog] is?"
"No," I say.
Turns out, they couldn't find the two dogs they were looking for, as they had been "moved", and overall, it took an hour, maybe two, to find those dogs. The customers were rabid. I wouldn't blame them.
That girl with the doxens(who I'll call Walton, since I don't know her real name), was probably to blame.

Well, the doxens are finally out of the playroom around the time they find the two dogs. Luckily, I wasn't caught giving dogs walks.
But, Walton comes up to me just as I put the thirs dog in the free playroom: "I've gotta clean the playrooms; sorry. It will only take five minutes."

30 minutes later...

The doxens are missing, some dogs have moved over a playroom (We keep insanely huge dogs in playrooms), their documentation is gone, and the playrooms look like they had some water splashed on them and that was it.

Meanwhile, these dogs have been getting loose. Everytime I walk by, their cage just pops open, and they go running out. Finally, I move them to the playroom, huge notes stating where they were moved, bring their documentation, etc., etc.

By the time I'm done with that, Walton has dissappeared, and what I assumed was a "She just wasn't done cleaning the cages yet," turned into more of a.. SHe really thought splashing water on it hoping it could clean itself magically would work.

So I say, "Screw this, I want to keep my job," so I go in the one free playroom and clean the damned thing myself.

And continue doing playtimes.
Walton never shows up again.

Oh, yes, did I mention that in the morning, she said to me, "Can you do me a really big favor, and put the dogs in the front of the cages?"
The way the kennel works is, in the morning, the dogs get fed, and shoved in the front of the cage(as there's two parts) and the back gets pressure washed. It's been that way since I started. I had been putting them in the front.
What the hell? Does she think I'm stupid or something?
I don't even KNOW her, I bet she was the one who was JUST hired. Why isn't SHE giving the damned playtimes? I'd rather wash s**t!
So I tell her, "That's what I've BEEN doing" and walk off.

Toward the end of the day, boss comes up to me again.
"Have you seen Jack?" (Jack's a dog).
I say, "Should be in his cage. I just put him there."
"Well he's not."

Turns out that somehow the cage got open and Jack was running around somewhere.
She comes to me and says, "You always need to put the dogs in the back of the cage and makesure it's locked."

Oh! So putting them in the front and assuming the lock would shut itself was a wrong assumption, all along?! I SERIOUSLY didn't know that!! scream

But, to start off the day, I was pooped on. Not on my shoe. Not that I stepped in. I was checking a dog for a**l bleeding (Ahaha, laugh it out now, folks. stare ) And I must have stimulated his a**s or something, because the next thing I know, I've got s**t all over the bottom half of my shirt and my pants. Hoorah! I'm covere din s**t! YAY! confused

After that, there was a dog that couldn't stand up. But it was scheduled for a playtime, so I took it out anyway. It was a white poodle. And I kid you not, the bottom half was bright yellow. It had been laying in its own piss. Well, I asked my superiors, (that weren't my boss), they said it was fine. So count this: I asked three people.

It just so happened that Stevie was taking someone on a tour of the Best Friends Facility while I was taking out the piss dog. Later, she told me I had to take it to the groomers, and I had to wash it.
So I just bore it. Well, after I said, "What? ME? But I don't know how to wash dogs!"
"I'll help you," she says.

So my lunchbreak, I go to the groomers, and ask them if they can help me with bathing the piss dog. They say their swamped. My friend that's a groomer that I never learned the name of (Names have always been a problem for me) says I should clock in first. So I clock back in from lunch, then go and ask if they can help me again.

Some riot ensues about how I shouldn't be bathing if I don't know how to do it, and I try and say that it's some type of punishment from stevie. They say, "Stevie?! She knows how to bathe, make HER do it," and eventually they yell at stevie for sending me.

Okay, I can't clock back in again or I'll get locked out for clocking in/out too many times, so I just wasted half my lunch. Back to work.

Sunday. Wasn't nearly as bad.
Walton was there, but nothing bad happened between us, I think. My memory's kinda foggy of Sunday.

Stevie wasn't there until the very end.
So it was okay. The only thing that happened was Jeremy.
Jeremy was the person who supposedly trained me how to do playtimes, although I was never actually trained. I was given some words like, "Actually play with the dogs," and "Don't give them the full ten minutes" and expected to know everything.

Well, he says to me, "Hey, when you're in there, you need to actually play with the dog, not sit there and watch the dog scratch at the gate or whatever".

OKay. What am I SUPPOSED to do if the dog doesn't want to play, and won't let me pet it? Force it to do something? Oh yeah, that's great. stare

But being me in need of a job, I say, "Okay, fine".
That was about it, I think.

Monday.
That's my day for horseback riding.
Anne was there, who is the woman who taught my teacher, Richard, how to ride. She was there with new horses. I got to ride the new horse. The whole time she was warming up the horse for me she was trying to sell the thing to me. I was sick of hearing it, and sick of acting interested in how muscular he was.
I finally told her, "I don't have enough money, and even if I did, I wouldn't have enough money to board him" And then she said stuff about me working it off because Richard was nice. And that's true. But I rebutted with this:
"Well, I'm moving in January, so it'd be pointless to buy a horse right now."
She asked where. I said Oklahoma. She compared it to Alaska about how cold it was. Yeah. Right. stare After that, she stopped trying to sell the horse to me. I was greatful.

I don't ride Western. I do English. She put me in a western saddle. I walked in it. She kept telling me I was doing everything completely wrong, even though I've been riding for.. Ever, it seems, and doing everything Richard tells me.

She made me feel like a noobie to everything, even life, and not only was I ashamed to be the dirt under her shoe, I hated her for belittling me for so much.
And if that wasn't enough, I had to sit through all her talking and belittlement, which was 30 minutes, and then I got to actually ride for ten.
I'm paying to ride for an hour.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I used to work with Richard in teaching classes and stablework over the summer. While Richard was teaching other kids, Anne went up to the fence, called one of them, who had to be.. Ten years old, and started insulting her.
Said she'd have arthritis by the time she was sixteen in her ankles by the way she was sticking her toes up.

Her mom was standing right there. And the things Anne was saying were COMPLETELY OPPOSITE of what Richard was teaching.
Richard was teaching put your weight in the stirrups, keep your heels down, and push into the horse to make it go.
Anne was saying put all your weight in the saddle, but let the horse do everything for you, and you shouldn't even have stirrups at all.

See where I'm going with this?
So Richard comes up to me and says, "Did she let you ride the horse?" I said 'yeah'
She said, "Do you want to ride it some more?
I said "no".
"Want to go get someone else?"
I said "yeah".

Truthfully, the horse was good. I liked the horse. What I didn't like was Anne breathing down my neck about how bad I was, and me sitting on a western saddle with a huge horn stirrup lengths that were ten times too long.

My brother got in a fight. At first, all I got was that he was drunk, got into a fight, and someone pushed him down some stairs, and that my parents had to pick him up from the hospital. I think this was last wednesday or something.

Just yesterday, I listen to a phone conversation my mom has with someone (My mom talks SO loud).
Apparently, B(my brother) was drunk, but called the cops because he was being kidnapped. Somehow he fell down stairs, or the cops found him at the bottom of the stairs, and asked B what happened.
B was speaking gibberish. So they took him to the hospital. My brother went ballistic. He wouldn't let the doctors touch him at all, and all they could do (with much effort) was draw some blood.
Since my brother was being crazy and still talking in some other language unknown to man (either from concussion, depression, or pure drunkenness), they stuck him in a straight jacket in a mental ward.
There, he vomitted on himself, but when anyone came in to help him, he'd scream at them to go away. Some less gibberish, still, but mostly screaming.
My parents came in to that, forced the doctors to take him home, even though they were concerned about broken innards and a concussion.
B doesn't remember anything from the point of meeting the person who was trying to abduct him to the point where he was at the bottom of the stairs.

Great.