Sunday, December 09, 2007
Last night I found these idiots:
They are standing outside of Target, singing their merry asses off. While wearing shirts that said Gay School with a big circle and line through it. I didn't know there were gay schools. Those sound like fun. I bet they'd have a kick-ass theater department. Not to mention lovely homecoming floats. But I digress. I guess these fools think that the gays are taking over or something. I dunno. I find it hard to listen to people like this, because my brain filters out stupid. A time-saving mechanism I highly recommend, moves a lot of things into the "Not worth a single second" category.
I just looked these people in the eye and laughed at them when I walked in and out. I don't think I will ever understand people who care so deeply about what other people are doing in their lives. It's freezing outside, and you really hate gays so much that you are willing to dress up and stand outside and sing carols on the off-chance of- Well, of what exactly? Are you thinking some gay guy is going to walk by and be like, "You know, you are so right. Thank god you are here. I'm am going to turn this gay train around and head back to Straightville." Really?
People need to get hobbies. I don't know, take up needlework or something. Or, maybe taxidermy. That seems more along the lines for these folks. Hell, I think teaching your kids to stuff dead animals might be healthier than teaching them, "Honey, we are going to go learn about what it means to hate people you don't even know tonight. It's going to be fun, you see, cause it's going to go both ways. We get to hate and then you get to feel what it's like to be hated too. God bless us everyone!"
My favorite was the two girls who walked out as I walked in. Holding hands and smiling brightly. "Don't look at them junior. Smiling is a sin you know."
Thursday, December 06, 2007
I heard the dude's singing on the radio and went to YouTube to hear the whole song, cause I love me some Faithfully. But then I noticed all the other videos that his band has. The dude can sing the hell out of a crapload of songs. He is crazy spot-on with his covers, check it out.
Last time I wrote I spoke of a board meeting I was going to. My first board meeting at this job. I’d been working forever and a day on the Powerpoint From Hell for this board meeting. The big boss wanted it to kick arse and make everyone love us. It was sorta a big deal at the meeting. So I worked forever on it and tested it and tested it and got up early the day it was to be show and tested it some more with the PA system in the meeting room. Everything was fine. Until. The actual board meeting. Wherein the previously crazy-tested Powerpoint From Hell decided that it didn’t know where the audio files were. The audio file were a narration of the entire Powerpoint, meaning that without them, you don’t really have a Powerpoint. Neat. So there I was standing in front of a conference room full of people, with a malfunctioning presentation on my hands. Good times.
But I survived.
And one of the best things I lived to see was the decorations in the building where I work. We all came in one day and the lobby had be Christmas-ed out with trees and miniature moving trains and presents and poinsettias out the ass. Lovely.
But most lovely of all is these lifesize dolls that I think are supposed to be Polar Express-y. There is a conductor guy standing in the middle of the lobby waiting to take you to the North Pole. Although his lack of train or movable body parts are probably going to slow down the trip. But whatever. There are these children holding little North Pole tickets in their hands throughout the lobby. All kinda cute, in a sorta freaky/those dolls look a little too real way.
But this little kid is my favorite:
It’s this lifesize kid doll sprawled over a big pile of presents. Is it me or does this kid look dead? He looks like he was shot and thrown onto the pile of presents.
You really have no idea how much joy it brings me every time I walk in the building and see the Holiday Homicide.
Fa La La La.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Hellllllooooooo out theeeeeeeeere....
Good lord, it has been forever and three days since I last wrote. Where the hell did November go? It's gone. We are inching closer and closer to the holidays, and therefore to the end of the year, and therefore to my birthday and therefore to my 30’s. It’s all too much.
Nola is in the holiday spirit though:
I bought him a Christmas thing too, but he LOVES the dradle (sp?). I have a little Jewish dog, it seems. Although I don’t think he’d be down with the yamikah, he doesn’t like things on his head. I know because I tried to put antlers on there. He wasn’t having it. Of course maybe that has more to do with his Jewishness than his dislike of things on his head? I must respect his religion.
So then. I’ve been gone for so long, I feel like I should have a lot to say. Sadly I really don’t. You see, here’s the thing. Remember when I used to support myself doing freelance work? I was doing so much that I was paying all of my bills and traveling the world to boot? Well, I’m still doing all that work. And I went ahead and added in a full-time job to that. So there you go. The math on that addition equation leaves very little in the way of actual blog-worthy-incidents-time. I do apologize.
I haven’t even remembered to post the dog pictures for the past couple of months. My bad.
Here they are:
This was October. It doesn’t have anything to do with Halloween, but it does have everything to do with the Red Hat Ladies and my mom was hosting Halloween Bunco at her house so we decided that her group of friends would appreciate the Red Hat Fido. Unfortunately Fido looked a little naked with just his red hat, so we found a scarf and threw it around him for Bunco night. He’s shy like that.
On a side note, have you guys ever played Bunco? It’s a dice game that is played around the country by groups of ladies who want and excuse to get together and eat and chat. You play by, “Rolling the dice, then you count the numbers and you want them or you don’t, but if you get three you get a bunco, and then someone rings the bell and you get up and you move to the other table, depending on if you won or lost. It’s REALLY easy!” Uh, okay. I crashed October’s game because they needed a sub and I’ve been hearing about these games for 25 years now, and I wanted to check them out.
The night began with everyone gathering around my mom’s new oven and oooo-ing and aaaah-ing. They must have talked for 20 minutes about this oven. A couple hours earlier, when my dad was over at my house (to seek refuge from the women by watching my big screen TV), it took me a good 20 minutes to figure out how to turn my oven ON when he needed to keep his Chinese Food warm. In my mom’s kitchen I stood in the back and ate dip while my mom’s friends went on and on about the oven. None of them even noted the microwave, so I had nothing to contribute to the conversation…
Anywho, here is November’s dog:
He’s a gambler! Good times.
And beside the dog?
The Thanksgiving Turkey.
Uh, Fido, I’m pretty sure when a turkey swaggers up beside you, it might be time to fold ‘em. I’m just saying.
So that’s all I got for now. Hopefully I’ll check in a little more often. I will do my best to put myself in situations that require a blog post. Tomorrow I head off to a bored meeting. I’m sure the excitement that ensues will result in all sorts of posts…ahhhh Corporate America.
Monday, November 12, 2007
You'll see, and hear the stuff I added to the right hand side of the blog. It is clips from our radio show. Good times. We have been doing it for a month or so now and we are having fun. If you want to stop the fun from coming out of your computer speakers, just push the pause button on the player to the right.
We are at a little public access station in town, talking into the darkness about whatever pops into our heads. We decided to call the show "TBA". Mostly because we didn't have a name, or a theme, or any idea whatsoever what we were going to be talking about every time. We walked in on our first night and the radio dude there said, "Well, you are in the computer as TBA right now." And so we stayed in the computer that way. Plus we think that's a pretty accurate name for us.
We are having a good time mostly because we get to ramble on and on and don't really have to worry about anyone actually listening. The other night Shane, our Radio Dude, came running into the studio with a piece of paper in his hand. He had written on it, in thick sharpie, "You have 19 listeners!!!" We were so excited. Then he came running in AGAIN and flashes 22 of his fingers at me to let me know that we now had 22 listeners. Again, so very exciting. Then. He came in at the break and said, "Well, they are doing some maintenance on the site, to make it better, you know? And well, you DID have 22 listeners, but we sorta kicked them all off with the maintenance."
Oh, how fleeting fame is.
Come back dear listeners!
We are working on a podcast that we hope to get up and running by the end of the week, we'll post shorter versions of the show. We'll cut out all the crappy stuff and just give you the gold. They are going to be VERY short versions of the show.
Friday, November 09, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
"Saddest Cubicle Contest"
The winner -- if you can call it winning -- of the Wired News saddest-cubicles contest is David Gunnells, an IT guy at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. His desk is penned in by heavily used filing cabinets in a windowless conference room, near a poorly ventilated bathroom and a microwave. The overhead light doesn't work -- his mother-in-law was so saddened by his cube that she gave him a lamp -- and the other side of the wall is a parking garage. Gunnells recalls a day when one co-worker reheated catfish in the microwave, while another used the bathroom and covered the smell with a stinky air freshener. Lovely.
Other favs of mine:This dude doesn't even have the three half walls that usually surround the cubicle dwellers. I thought the three walls were bad, but it turns out not having them (or a desk for that matter (notice the desk drawer that is being used to hold up his work)) is pretty bad too. This can't be an ergonomically correct workstation.
This is actually my favorite. Look, they put the guy in a cargo container. Ha! I guess the half walls aren't that bad. The only good thing about this workstation is that there is the possibility that you might accidently be shipped somewhere cool on a boat. Who knows where you might end up. Hopefully not too far away, as I imagine you only have so much air in those things before you sufficate. And yet, it would still probably be a better way to travel than most airlines...
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Here is more depressing news from my retirement account:
They don’t think I’m going to retire till I’m 67? Screw that. And holy crap 2045 sounds like a long time away.
But don’t worry, if I don’t touch my $400 bucks till then I’m all set:
By 2045 that $400 bucks will be $2000 bucks! Hot damn! And look – when I retire in 2045 I can expect to make $12 a month from that $2000. Man, my future looks bright.
I might want to start clipping coupons.
I think that’s the moral of the story.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
I flipped through and I got to the toy section. And then I prayed for our poor country in 40 years when it's being run by the idiots playing with these ridiculous toys today. Here are some of my favorites:
First Kenmore Toys! Hot damn. If this doesn't scream fun-filled childhood, I just don't know what does! My first Kenmore sink and wash machine? Really? Why not just point the kids to the REAL Kenmore wash machine and at least get some chores out of the way while they are having good old times with appliances?
Wow. A touch screen ATM machine. Somewhere there is a pile of piggy banks weeping in obsolete depression.
This is really one of my favorites. It's a Smart Cycle. "A workout for both brain and body!" But then that line is followed by "Plug into you TV..." Anything that involves "Plug into your TV..." is not going to be a workout for your mind and most definitely not your body. Please. Remember when kids went OUTSIDE to ride bikes? Wasn't that a fun time? Here is what is printed on the description:
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I am so sorry that I’ve been out of the blogworld for quite some time now. There is no real excuse. I will tell you that I’ve been thinking of you all, and every time something blogworthy happens I think that I will in fact blog it. And then I’m laying around and can’t quite get the energy up to get on the computer and type the inspirational and entertaining words you all long for. I do so apologize.
Oh! I do have sorta an excuse. I just remembered. My computer took a poop last week. It caught a virus AND the hard drive was ready to blow up. Lovely. Slowly all my programs stopped being able to be opened. Dear lord. I called a tech guy from the internet and he was so nice as to come pick up my dying computer from me at work. The only real problem was, that he was a small Asian man. I do not care that he was small or Asian, really. But he didn’t speak the English so well and as you know, I’m hearing impaired, so I don’t hear the English so well. Not a good combo when standing on the side of the road trying to get your computer to a man to fix it.
Oh! And I was also only able to hear out of one ear because my hearing aide went out previously in the week. Overall, fun week for Extremely Important Electronic Equipment in my life. When I told my aunt of my mass blow up of all things electronic and important she said, “Mercury is in retrograde.” Who the hell knows what that means. She has said that before when things blow up and I wish perhaps she would think to say it BEFORE Mercury retrogrades, so that I might prepare and perhaps put all electronics and my head in some sort of protective area.
So anyways, the tiny Asian man came and all I really understood was, “Hard drive no good. Need new one.” Ugh. By the by, new hard drive no fun. Cause new hard drive means need new programs to put on hard drive and well, I might have borrowed some of the programs that are on my computer. Maybe. I’m not saying for sure. So then. I spent a couple days making new hard drive usuable and trying to get back to being able to use my computer without fear of it exploding. Good times.
More good times were when another Tiny Asian Man came to my work and I brought my computer downstairs and he worked on my computer while I waited on the side of the road. I am quite lucky that the both of us didn’t end up in some sort of detention facility, never to be heard from again. The Tiny Asian Man had a tiny car that was a convertible. The license plate on the convertible said, “When it gets hot, the top comes off.”
I am very sorry I’ve been out of touch. I will try to do better. I promise. I must finish eating my sushi now and then go back to work. How I would get through the work without the promise of sushi, I just don’t know.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
But I digress.
Branson is also a big aviation dude, apparently, and so he was talking about the future of aviation. He said that within the next ten years his company is going to develop technology in which you can fly from LA to Australia in 30 minutes. Awesome. The way they are going to do this is by putting you in a pod or something and blasting your ass into space, then dropping you back down in Australia. Even more awesome.
Now, I’m thinking that this technology, or at least the development of it, is probably going to result in a lot of dead things, whether they be monkey, rats, or people. And I’m thinking that even after the technology is approved and normal people (who have an extra 20 or so grand probably) can go it is still going to run a very high risk of explosion. But see, if you’ve tried flying anywhere in the past year or so you will agree that risking explosion doesn’t sound so bad. If they could make up for that risk with a promise that my luggage wouldn’t be lost and my flight wouldn’t be canceled and I wouldn’t be told, “I’m sorry, there’s nothing we can do, the flight is cancelled” I’d be willing to take the risk.
Oh! And I’d still like to have my own personal TV with DirectTV in my space pod thing. If I’m going to explode I want it to be while having the option of watching 720 TV stations.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
There is a gate at the front area of the park where I take my dog to frolic with other dogs. This gate cracks me up:
Notice the many, many locks. Notice the sign warning you to stay out. Then notice that the gate doesn’t extend much further than those locks and that sign. A mere two steps away you can go around the gate and to the other side of it. Methinks this property used to be private and now it is a park, but dontcha think they would have taken the extra two seconds to tear down that last piece of gate? Weird.
This isn’t exactly random, because not only have I seen this sign a million times, but I’m actually related to the person who owns the business. Blake is one of the many names in my family. (It’s always fun to sit around the table with 10 people who all have different last names as you, but who are all either an aunt, uncle or first cousin. My family tree is interesting.)
I just think this picture is funny because it says, "Since 1973" then it says "31 years of dependable service." Yes, I think it’s time for Blake to update his sign, but I get a kick out of the fact that it reads like 3 of those years since 1973 Blake’s wasn’t so dependable. Ha. My family and their signs.
I can’t remember if I posted this before.
But I do remember that it cracks me up every time I’m in the McDonald’s drive thru (unfortunately my family doesn’t own this business, no McDonald’s on the family tree. But give us time, we branch off pretty frequently.) I just think it’s hilarious that they are asking you not to use a cell phone. A cell phone from the early 90's that is. All other phones are fine, apparently.
Monday, October 08, 2007
A couple weeks ago I said to my friend Rafael (of ChrisKwanziKah and Vlogging fame on this very blog), “We should do a radio show. We could totally do an entertaining radio talk show.” He got excited about it and a couple days later we had a slot on the local public access station. Ha. Good times. So every Friday night from 6 till 8pm we’ll ramble on and on about whatever we find entertaining. Perhaps others will find it entertaining as well. That is, if they ever actually listen to it. Not a whole lot of people listening in to public access. The Public Access Dude came in during our show and said, “You have one solid listener, they’ve been on the whole show!” To which I answered, “Yeah, I told my mom to go turn the computer on, play some spider solitaire and listen to our show.” You gotta love mom, she’ll always be my one fan.
The greatest part about the public access radio station is that you can’t actually listen to it on the radio. You can listen to it through your computer: http://www.live365.com/stations/accesssacramento?site=pro and apparently if you live in Sacramento you can tune to channel 17 and then push the SAP button on your remote and get it. I love that. The SAP button is usually pushed to access the Spanish feed of whatever show you’re listening to. Or you can push it to access English speaking idiots on Channel 17. Love it.
So we’re having a good time with it and if anyone wants to tune in or call in they can between the hours of 6pm and 8pm PST on Fridays. If you want to be a guest, e-mail me, I guarantee we'll put you on. Just don't make fun of Soduko or Matlock and you'll be a hit with our listener. Or just call in and give us someone to talk to: 916.456.5199. My mother, although a loyal listener, refuses to call in. She’s no fun. She did send several e-mails though, telling us to stop making fun of her for not calling in. She also pointed out that it might not be a good idea to berate the one listener you have. Good point mom.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Forth, there is a sushi place downstairs in the building where I work. I imagine it is full during lunch time with people eating lunch. Whereas at 3, I’m the only person in here. On my computer, doing some work, eating some raw fish, minding my own business. With 5 sushi worker people hovering around me, giving me all of their attention. The attention is not so good, but the sushi is (2.3 seconds after I sit down at least two of them are standing, smiling, holding their order pad things, staring at me. “You order?” “Uh, I look at menu for another 4 seconds or so, then I order.” “Perma-smile with nod.” 4.5 seconds later, “You order?”)
And so I order. You know on those shows where they try to get you to get a handle on your spending by keeping track of every single thing you buy, so that at the end of the month you can look and go, “Good god, that’s a lot of danishes!” And then you start buying your danishes from Costco instead of Starbucks and in two months you’re out of debt? Yeah, I don’t do that. Because concentrating that hard on money is a sure-fire way for me to never see any come my way ever again. But if I did do that I think I would be looking into buying sushi from Costco. Even before I started working 200 feet above a sushi restaurant I spent a ridiculous amount of money on raw fish. It ain’t right. When I moved into my condo I was a bit worried that there was a sushi place right next door to it. This was not going to be good new for my attempts to pay my mortgage. I was quite thankful when I found that their tempura shrimp tasted like bunghole. So therefore I don’t spend my electricity bill on seafood. At least not that seafood.
But you know what else is in that damn parking lot? A Togos. That’s a sandwich shop out here. Are they national? I dunno. What I do know if that they are the devil because they joined forces with 31 Flavors, the ice cream shop out here. So when you walk in and you are going to be good and you are going to get a sandwich, bam! right in front of you is a friggin ice cream parlor. Jesus.
I have 6 pints of ice cream in my freezer right now. And 12 Mountain Dews. And that’s pretty much it. I have problems.
And I have to get back to work...
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Working 9-5 everyday, doing the same thing everyday, it just doesn’t really lend itself to the randomness that used to inspire some great blogs. There are only so many stories you can tell about post-it notes and company meetings.
Can you friggin’ believe it is October already? This is not good. Where the hell did this year go? I lost a few months at the beginning of the year while I was traveling around in a motor home pimping the book. Ever since then I’ve been a bit surprised at how quickly the year is passing. Surprised and not so happy.
I’m going to be 30 in January. I’m not looking forward to it. And yet there it is, waiting for me at the turn of the new year. I think for me turning 30 is going to be harder than any of the other major birthdays. 30 is the end of your twenties and therefore the end of it being cute to not really have any idea what you want to be when you grow up. 30 year olds have life plans and 401k’s and mortgages. That doesn’t sound like very much fun. And yet here I am.
I hope to be out of the country on my 30th birthday, I think that would be the only good way to ring in a new decade. Last year when we were in Guatemala one of the guys with us turned 30. I remember thinking a cheesy party or gift could never be as cool as being out in the world exploring with the clock struck 3-0. It’s a good precedent to set, I think.
Who the hell knows what I’m rambling on about. Basically it’s October, I’m getting old and post-it notes are uninspiring.
I know. Turns out I don’t have to wait until age 30 to be boring...
Monday, September 24, 2007
Tonight Dancing with the Stars premiered. Good god do I love that show. It’s just ridiculously cheesy and over the top, but I can’t get enough of it. Kelly Taylor for 90210 is on it!!!! I actually thought about voting for her, that’s how much I loved her when I was a teenager. She was a slut with a heart of gold! Tonight they had the women compete, tomorrow the guys will compete. You really have to love guys, cause they were doing a promo for tomorrow’s episode and they had a package edited together of all the guys basically talking a big game. They were all saying how badass they are and how they are there to compete and to bring home the top prize and pretty much just being boys. But you have just got to love that the big prize is a trophy shaped like a disco ball. I mean really. Does it get any better than that? I think no.
And can I also point out that the chick that danced the best on the show tonight was probably the heaviest set girl on the show? And she still looked awesome. I kept thinking of little Britney Spears and her bikini-ed ass making a mess of herself on MTV a few weeks back. Everyone said she was fat and looked horrible. Britney Spears is not fat, she’s probably tipping the scales at like 138. What she is is a complete friggin’ moron who thinks that going on national television in a bikini is a fantastic idea. The girl on the show tonight easily has 20 or 30 pounds on Britney but she actually had the sense to work with a costume designer and put on something that covered and tucked in the right places. Then she went out and danced her ass off, another thing Britney wasn’t quite in the mood for. Dancing’s hard y’all.
And speaking of overweight, an overweight young woman wrote to me the other day to tell me that she had decided to train for a marathon and that her doctor recommended my book. She then said she’d read my book three times and was “inspired” by me. There are a couple things that don’t seem right here. First off: Why are doctors recommending running books that reference Cheetos on a pretty regular basis? Second off: It’s a bit alarming how many people have written to me to say that they are inspired by my book. How bizarre is it that my lazy ass is inspiring American’s to run around in circles? Oh the mind. How it boggles.
If you ask me I think I should get burnt calorie credit for all the work my readers are doing, I mean, I inspired them for god’s sake.
Pass me the remote, Curb Your Enthusiasm’s on, the laughing will work my stomach muscles...
Sunday, September 23, 2007
There is also another AWESOME story that I can’t tell you about, because it took place at someone’s wedding and I just don’t have the heart to be the possible destroyer of unions. But believe me when I say that it was the best wedding ever. If only because I was so amused by the things going on. That AND I got cake.
One thing that I did find entertaining that I can actually tell you about:
Awesome. And no mention at all of how ironic it is for a man named Smokey to be in the frozen food section.
Nothing else is really going on. I’ve started playing on an indoor soccer team and I’ve also started realizing that soccer is not a sport that you just decide to play after a year or so. I’m pretty sure I may die on the indoor soccer field, as I’m pretty sure breathing is an important part of remaining alive. But you know, we all have to go sometime. At least I’ll go with some kick ass bruises all over my legs. That’s my favorite part of playing soccer, the funky bruises I get that get even funkier as the week goes on. I couldn’t wear a dress to the awesome wedding I went to, because my legs looked like I had been severely beaten. But even if I had been severely beaten I still wouldn’t have had the best story at the wedding...
God, it would have made a great blog...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Instead, let us concentrate on the On Demand feature that some cable carriers have. And again, let’s ignore the beauty that is being able to watch a million cable shows and fantastic movies from our youth whenever the hell we feel like it. Oh no, we don’t have time for the glory that lies there either.
Today we will focus on something a little hidden, something that isn’t seen by a lot of people, yet something that is just as worthy of our praise.
It is called Dating on Demand. And it is awesome.
I was over at my parents house this weekend and I saw an ad for an On Demand Real Estate station that featured local real estate in the area (have you heard? there are a few houses on the market here in California. teensy tiny foreclosure problem going on.) I told my mom I wanted to check it out. (I don’t have these On Demand features at my house because I have satellite (thank the lord in heaven, or I’d never leave my house, ever.))
To which mom answered, “You know they have lots of local stuff, they even have personal ads.”
To which I answered, “Show me. Now.”
This is just amazing. People are posting on cable for dates. And apparently people are looking on cable for dates. It’s all so convenient. And scary.
Here’s Nate. He’s in Sales. Mom thinks perhaps it might be marijauna sales.
This is Bill. He’s Charming. He has a “soft spot for children”. That doesn’t actually sound as charming as it sounds creepy, Bill. Just FYI.
Here’s Doug(yFresh). He’s looking for “love and money”. Aren’t we all Mr. Fresh. My dad came in and told Doug, “You ain’t getting love without having money Doug.” A wise man, he.
Here’s Cecil. He wants someone “skinny and pretty”. Mom doesn’t think I should put this video up. Because maybe Cecil is shy. Often shy people put their videos on cable stations.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
#1 - He REALLY like the taste of poo. This REALLY upsets me. Not only does he like the taste, he likes the smell and is able to hone in on that smell from a good 50 yards away. He’s like one of those drug-sniffing dogs. Except I can only imagine what kind of criminals he’d catch.
#2 - He REALLY likes laying in water. It doesn’t really matter where the water is. He learned of his love of water while laying in a baby pool at a dog park. But now EVERY time I take him to my dog park he doesn’t let a little thing like lack of baby pool get in his way of laying in water. So EVERY time he lays in the mud puddles. A lady asked me the other day, “Are they water dogs?” as she looked at my dog, lounging in up to his ears in a puddle of mud and water. “No, he’s a crazy dog. His breed has nothing to do with it.” The other day, while at yet another dog park my lovely dog made his way over to one of those water fountains that has the human water fountain at the top and the doggie water fountain at the bottom. After the doggie’s drank out of the fountain my genius decided to sit in the fountain. Because, you know, there’s water in there, and water is for sitting in.
The only good part of #2 (maybe the poo one should have been here instead...) is that I have figured out a fantastic way to bathe the dog post-mud dip. Initially I was trying to bath him in the sink like I normally do for his baths. But this was not a good time. Because most of the mud is on his underside and trying to spray that underside usually resulted in my spraying mud up into the air and all over my damn kitchen. And I have to keep the kitchen clean, because sometimes I put take-out boxes on the counter.
So then. Instead of taking him inside for the bath I have decided to keep him outside for a squirt down from the hose. I hold on to his little leash and spray him off. He thinks he is getting shot and I think I’m taking out a lot of poo and mud anger on him with a high-powered sprayer. This makes me much happier than the mud in the kitchen.
#3 - He’s got issues. He’s gotten a lot better about going up to people and not being super afraid of every human being that isn’t me. (Which always cracks me up, because in his little life span, I’m the only human being who has spanked him, yelled at him and sprayed him with a high-powered hose. Yet I’m the only one he trusts. Like I said, issues.) He is mostly okay with people outside, but once they come into our house, he’s not a huge fan. He backs away from them, he barks, he hides. Maybe he thinks that they are going to spank and yell and spray too, who knows.
So I hired a dog-walker, because he didn’t seem to like Doggie Daycare that much (How do I know this? Because I too have issues and watched him on the internet doggie cam.) so I figured I’d just leave him home and have someone come over to walk him once a day. I know, I’m a yuppie. Whatever.
So the dog-walker came over the other day and when I got home there was a note that read: “Please call me.” There were also many a toy thrown throughout the living room. Uh oh. I’d seen this scene before, when I asked the roommate to take the dog out one time when I wasn’t home. I came home to all of Nola’s toys at the bottom of the stairs, an obvious attempt by the roommate to lure the dog towards the front door. From the cussing I heard coming from upstairs I figured that these attempts had not been successful.
I called the dog-walker, she was distraught. “I don’t know what was wrong, I tried for 45 minutes to get him to come to me and all he would do is bark and back away. I’ve never experienced anything like that.” “Well, my dog is unique to say the least.” “Don’t worry, I won’t charge you for today, since I never was able to take him for a walk.” “Uh, yeah, it’s not your fault my dog is insane, go ahead and charge me. At least he got a workout trying to get away from you.”
Tomorrow the dog-walker returns to try again. I’ve put leftover chicken in the fridge to aide her efforts. Of course I should probably just recommend bringing some poo, that ought to get him to come to her right away.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
I have discovered the most wonderful thing of all: Online radio. Where the hell have I been that I never discovered this before? I do not know. But I am here now and I am here to tell you that one should not reside in a cubicle for hours on end without the aide of internet radio.
God bless internet radio. And god bless Adam Carolla. I’m sure that some of you either don’t know who Adam Carolla is, or think he’s an idiot (The Man Show), but I do not care. He is my savior. The guy has cracked me up since LoveLines and ever since Howard Stern left radio Carolla has been doing a morning radio show. Given the fact that I haven’t seen a lot of mornings since Howard Stern went off the air, I hadn’t listened to Carolla’s show. But now, because I am a functioning member of society I get to listen to all the morning radio I want. Morning radio and Mountain Dew are the only thing that get me to noon without passing out. And Adam Carolla. He helps a lot. The guy is just a “dude”. He likes cars and building things and has a general bad attitude about everything on the planet. He cracks me up. And when spending time in a cubicle, his rants sure do help the time go by.
Then after him there are these three called Frosty, Heidi and Frank. Frosty, Heidi and Frank used to be Jaime, Frosty and Frank and I used to listen to them during my ridiculous commute when I lived in LA. Until one day I turned on the radio and it was just Jaime. And Danny Bonaduce. Jaime, Frosty and Frank had worked together for like 10 years, starting in Denver or something and then moving out to LA together. Then, after all that time Jaime totally stabbed her boys in the back and saved herself. Bitch. I never listened to the show again. Who knows what she is doing now, because Bonaduce is now on Adam Carolla’s show. Followed by Frosty and Frank. Jaime? Off the air. Karma. It’s a bitch too.
So then. As you can see, the internets provide me with both entertainment and life lessons throughout the day. Can’t ask for much more than that.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Is there no one in Hollywood, no image manager, who is willing to take this girl on? Seriously? No one? I mean, I know she’s a train wreck, but she’s a train wreck that still has a(n ever decreasing) chance of eventually getting back on her game. (Did she ever have a game? Or was it simply shaking her well-toned ass? I dunno. But at least she could get the ass well-toned again. That might be a good start.) There are people, a LOT of people in Hollywood whose job it is to make the stars in Hollywood look good. Can Britney not get one of those damn people on her payroll? I mean really. Not one wardrobe person? Not one publicist? Not one manager who can make coherent business decisions that don’t involve putting your client in a bikini on national television to lip synch to a song she doesn’t even know?
This all confuses me.
Britney. Honey. Pack it in. Call it a day. Take your cash and your babies and go live in Europe somewhere.
It is apparently okay to leave your babies unattended while you go out to eat at a nearby restaurant.
Have you been following the story of this little girl that got kidnaped, but then maybe just got killed by her parents? I wasn’t really following it, I didn’t really see why the whole world was so concerned about this one little girl. Not to be cold, but kids disappear everyday, why was this one English girl on the cover of People? Weird.
But then this weekend I read that the mom was a suspect in the girl’s death and so I read a little about the story. From what I can gather it seems as though the mom and the dad were vacationing in Portugal (Spain? Somewhere European.) And they put their twin two year olds and their other daughter to bed and then went to a nearby restaurant to eat. It’s okay, because they “constantly checked on the children”. And then one of the kids disappeared. Huh?
I looked through a bunch of articles and not one mentioned a nanny or a caretaker, or even a pitbull or something. And not one of these articles even seemed to blink at the fact that the parents left their three babies alone while they dined on gourmet food.
Now granted, I know it’s probably tempting to leave your kids alone when they are sleeping and you are hungry. But, uh, you’re not really supposed to do that, are you? Because if you are parenting just became a whole lot easier and I’m looking forward to it.
And finally, The Gay Senator.
I could give a crap about The Gay Senator. The guy is all over the map with the pleading guilty, deciding not to plead guilty and the resigning and then, oh, maybe not, but maybe yeah, but the only thing that is for sure is HE’S NOT GAY. Whatever.
What confuses me about this story is the fact that there are apparently policemen spending their days trying to catch gay guys in bathrooms in the airport. Really? As far as issues go in this country, as far as things that I would like to be protected from, I don’t know that blowjobs in the bathroom is really up on the list. I mean, have you traveled by plane lately? We all need something to relieve that tension. Better it be happening in the bathrooms than people be getting on their (18 hour delayed) flight all tense and pissed off.
And maybe the cops could focus on, I don’t know, I’m just thinking out loud here, murderers, pedophiles, people selling drugs to kids, and other bad things. Not that sex in bathrooms isn’t bad and totally worthy of an entire task force, but, um, seriously? A whole task force? I bet those cops go home feeling fulfilled, probably just the reason they got into law enforcement. “What did you go at work today?” “I tapped my foot and busted a Senator.” “One less Gay Senator roaming the streets, well done.”
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Uh. Does this seem really, really wrong to anyone else?
"Well, yeah, cancer sucks and all that, but it's not really a big enough reason to go get myself checked. Whatever, I'll do it sometime, when I- Oh! The possibility of $100 towards Cosmetic Services?!!! Sign me up!!!"
But sometimes it takes awhile to go from being The New Girl, to being A Friend.
Today I walked into the bathroom at about noonish. When I walked in I saw my reflection and I saw that on that reflection was a large white spot. On the reflection’s boob.
Apparently I’d leaned into my bagel sometime on my way into the office and had spread cream cheese all over the underside of my boob, and its black top, in the process.
This cream cheese wasn’t visible to me because it was, well, under where I can see. But it was visible to every person I passed and talked to for half the day.
But no one said anything.
The best friends I mentioned earlier? They would have pointed, laughed, made fun of me and told everyone else within earshot to come look. But they wouldn’t have let me walk around looking like a lopsided lactater for half the day.
I miss being Friends.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Some pictures for you:
The most alarming has to be Personal Finance. Please. People. Do not make personal finance decisions based on a laminated piece of paper at the local independent bookstore. I mean geez, at least go to a chain store for that kind of information.
And this is just a little picture of Nola saying hi. Post-mud bath.
Monday, September 03, 2007
Remember those 10 weeks I went off to travel the US and pimp my book? Well, those weeks weren’t cheap, and lets just say that now is the time when I’m paying the price. So here I am. And there you are. Both of us without any writing on this blog. It is so very sad, all if it.
Even sadder? I am typing this right now because it’s 9:30 and I think I may go to bed soon. What the? Last week I went to bed at 9:30 two nights in a row, because I was so exhausted. To give you a bit of a perspective on this, I don’t think I’ve gone to be at 9:30 since I was like 7 years old. And even then, I was probably feeling under the weather or something. The saddest part of my early bedtime is that it doesn’t really matter, I’m still exhausted the next day.
I went to bed the other night at 9:30pm and got up at 6:30am. That is a nice little 9 hours of sleep. That’s good night’s rest. But noooooo. I was still exhausted the next day. Yet, when I used to go to bed at 5am and get up at 11 or 12 I was fine. No tired. You know how some people are just born with the ability to play golf or run really fast? I think my skill is being nocturnal. It’s a skill that doesn’t come in so handy when you go to bed only an hour after it gets dark. I’m working against destiny here people.
This weekend was another one of doing a whole lot of nothing. I was actually sore last night from laying down too long on the couch. I had to take some Advil because my neck and the back of my head were throbbing from laying in the same position for so very long. I might have had the early stages of bed sores. Which was exactly my goal.
I was supposed to go camping this weekend, but I just couldn’t do it. It’s the yearly trip that my friends have been doing for awhile now. Every year I hate camping, but I enjoy the company. But this year the logic of driving 4 hours each way to sit outdoors with people who live in the same town as me was just not quite apparent. I started out the week with high hopes of getting out of town and relaxing with good friends in a great location. Then, as the week (and I) dragged on the thought of wasting precious non-working hours in a car just started sounding like less and less of an ideal way to spend my time off. I was supposed to drive with a friend and we were both secretly hoping that the other one would flake, so we didn’t have to make the trek. We started an email correspondence around Wednesday about the logic of this camping trip. And by Thursday we had decided there was no logic and we’d be better off just staying home. We did get together on Saturday to hang out, at which point we both looked at each other and said, “God, I’m so happy we didn’t go this weekend.”
I think we are officially old.
You know how to feel really old? Have a 21 year old live with you for a few months. Jesus. This guy that is renting my spare room has more friends and more of a life in this town than I think I ever did. Every time he comes home it’s from some adventure or party or whatnot. He came home the other day, “Look! I have pictures of me sky diving!” Then a week later he comes home in a wife beater tank top, with paint splattered all over him, “We went paint-balling!” Then one night he headed out, looking sharp as hell, “Whereya headed?” “A friend of mine is in town for a sorority convention, so I’m going to go meet up with her and her friends.” “Wow, you gotta like your odds at a sorority convention.” “Sly smile.”
One day he comes out with a pair of shoes, “Do you think these will pass for shoes instead of sneakers? We’re going to some fancy club in San Fran and I can’t wear sneakers.” I looked at the shoes that probably cost more than his monthly rent, “You’re a black man, you know how to dress, no one can tell you what suitable fashion is. Tell the bouncers that.” “True, true.”
I think he will be moving out soon, which is good, it’s exhausting just hearing about his exciting life, I don’t have the energy to keep up with it...
Sunday, August 26, 2007
I really have nothing to report as my life is pretty much a blur of work and work and work these past couple of weeks, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to blog about. I did go see a show that was funny as hell, Avenue Q. If you ever get the chance to see the show as it travels around definitely go check it out. It is High-larious. It’s kinda like a completely inappropriate Sesame Street. Completely inappropriate. As in, yes, there are puppets and no, do not take the children. Some of the song titles were “It Sucks to Be Me”, “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, “The Internet is For Porn” and “If You Were Gay”. Ha. It was awesome. And so so wrong. I don’t think we realize what a padded world we live in until you watch things that don’t make any effort to be politically correct.
And speaking of racist, I took this picture in the supermarket and I thought it was sorta funny. “Excuse me, do you have any Hispanics here?” “Aisle 15, right next to the Asians. You’ll have to go down a couple aisles for the French though.”
I will try to have something noteworthy happen to me tomorrow, so that there will be things to blog about...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
It’s been like a week since I’ve written. What have you people been doing to fill your days if not with the wonder that is my blog? No, don’t tell me, it’s probably better that you put that pain behind you.
As for me? You know that candle they speak of? The one that burns at both ends? Yeah. I’m on like my 10th candle. Burning them like crazy. I feel like I might be coming out of the other side, into a life that doesn’t involve so little sleep, so much work and a steady stream of Advil to help my aching carpel tunneled arm. But then again, every time you feel like things are calming down they have a way of picking back up again. But for this millisecond they fill a bit calmer. And I hope to extend this millisecond into my weekend, where I intend on doing absolutely nothing. It will be lovely.
Anywho, I’m sure there are things to update you on. But I’m sure I don’t feel like typing any more right now, because of that before mentioned arm pain. I will say that I work in a big building now and the management of that building held an ice cream social in the lobby this afternoon. And that is about the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Give me whip cream and sprinkles and I’m all set.
I will leave you with this:
The dog for August. Yeah. Seems my mother is a bit busy too, because she just dressed the damn dog. He was a patriot for like two months. I think he was afraid of what George W. might do if he changed out of the patriot costume and into this costume.
Mainly I think my mother was just really really hesitant to put a pimped out dog on her front porch. Every month I was like, “When do we get to the porn star?” And every month she’d just shake her head, because she was not looking forward to the porn star. Or the pimp. I’m not really sure what this costume is. I am sure that it is missing something though. See the curly hair under the hat? In my original design of this costume there was supposed to be some of that hair peeking out of the shirt as well, Fido showing off his chest hair. But mom didn’t understand my vision, “I just couldn’t do the chest hair, I couldn’t.”
She also couldn’t do this costume in the right month either, “I think this costume is supposed to be October, but I have the ladies coming over to my house for Bunco in October, and I just can’t have a porn star dog on my front porch when then come.”
Obviously these ladies don’t understand art.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Nola graduated from Puppy Class tonight.
By the way, when exactly did my life become one in which I race out of work at 5, go pick up the dog at Doggie Day Care, then go to Puppy Class? Things have taken a weird turn.
Anywho, Nola probably shouldn't have graduated from Puppy Class because his mom has had a hell of a couple of weeks and has done nothing in the way of teaching him the things a puppy would need to know to graduate. But he's cute and the teacher likes him, so he got to pass. Kinda like high school, really.
Then the teacher gave us little graduation caps to put on them. And by put on them I mean wrestle on them... We weren't really able to get a clear shot because he was moving so much. I think part of him knew that he didn't deserve that hat, because he didn't do every single thing he was supposed to to pass. I think another part of him knew that the hat was annoying the hell out of him...
Here is a picture of what a good puppy looks like. Notice, no blurring.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
I called to make an appointment for him and the lady said, "Try to get here as early as possible, because he is a boy and he needs to establish dominance."
"We open at 6:30 a.m."
Seriously, I don't care if my dog has a few adjusting problems if it means that I can sleep in longer. It's bad enough that I'm even taking him to this damn place, now I have to get up early so that he can establish his dominance? Screw that. He weighs 8 pounds, he's going to need a lot more than me getting up at dawn to help him with his dominance.
I actually checked the doggy cam online as soon as I got to work.
I have issues.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
A little while turned into 12 years. And that little baby turned into a little adult. Right before my eyes. (Is it me, or is 12 years old a lot older than it used to be?)
You go through your days, you want them to matter, you want to feel like something you are doing might actually mean something beyond this 24 hours you are living. And I must say, you will be hard pressed to find a better way to spend those days than by being a part of a kid’s life. Those little days, those hours of games here, minutes of random conversation there, seconds of hugs and “I love you”s, they all add up to something.
Kate didn’t have a lot of people she could count on and I made a promise a long time ago that I would be one of those people. Of all the twists and turns my life has taken this last decade that promise has been one of the few consistencies. And I know for a fact that it has made me a better person. You look at the world differently when you’ve made a kid an important part of your life. Some things matter more, some things matter less. You make decisions differently when you know there is someone who is looking up to you. This isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but I don’t know if I would have learned a lot of things as early as I did if I didn’t have Kate in my life.
It seems weird to me that she is already 12, that the time has passed so quickly. But I look forward to it continuing to pass. I look forward to continuing to watch her grow into who she will ultimately be. People always say they have their favorite ages of kids, but I’ve never really had a favorite age. Whatever age she is right now is my favorite, because it’s just so much fun to watch her morph into a little person. I see kindness in her, and humor. And that’s all I really need. The kid has a good heart and the ability to be sarcastic. My work here is done.
In April Kate came out to New Orleans with my family and friends. She was the only kid in the group. I wondered how she would do, as manual labor isn’t the best way for a kid to spend her vacation. The first day she grabbed a shovel and started mixing cement next to a man more than double her size. She exhausted herself, but she didn’t complain (any more than the aching adults). Then the next day she was the first back to work before lunch was over, ready to hammer some nails. During down time she explored the neighborhood where we were working, moving slowly through the remains of dozens of families, a very privileged kid taking in what it means to lose everything.
A month or so later she spent three weeks in Africa with my aunt and some other people. (Are you jealous of the 12 years old’s travel schedule yet? I am.) During their trip they visited an orphanage, where Kate fell in love with all the kids.
This weekend she’s having a birthday party. (“I’m having the big one this year, with all the family and stuff, so that next year, when I’m 13, I don’t have to have adults, just my friends.” (Ahhhhh the teenage years)) On her invitation there is a picture of Kate holding a kid at the orphanage. Below that it reads, “Instead of gifts, please make a donation to the African orphanage we visited, together we can make a difference.” The invitation is on my fridge, it will stay there long after the party is over.
Don’t get me wrong, the kid isn’t perfect. But at the end of my days, when I’m wondering if they’ve mattered, all I need to do is look at that kid and I know. Thanks for letting me come along for the ride Miss Kate, nothing and no one has made me prouder.
I look forward to the rest of the trip.
Monday, August 13, 2007
That is 20 minutes more radio than I’m used to hearing in a day. When I work at home I usually have the Itunes going and listen to my million and one songs I have on my computer. Or I go over to that awesome 90's station and relive my pegged pants years.
But in the car I listen to the radio.
Some things I’ve noticed:
The Shane Company (Now You Have a Friend in the Diamond Business) needs to be firebombed. Seriously. This guy is on EVERY FRIGGIN STATION. Trying to convince every demographic that you need a diamond for pretty much every event in your life. “Did your sweetheart stub her toe today? Show her you care with one of our diamonds.” This guy has officially guaranteed that I will never in my lifetime buy a diamond from him. Now, to be honest, he’s not missing out on any business, as I don’t ever have any intention of buying a diamond in my lifetime, but still. I might go buy one somewhere else just to prove a point.
I would also like to firebomb Delilah. Delilah is a radio chick who is syndicated throughout the land. How do I know she is syndicated? Because I was lucky enough to hear her throughout my entire 10 week road trip across this great land. As if the middle of Nebraska didn’t have enough problems without this woman. Arrrgggg. She is so peaceful and loving and CONDESCENDING, she makes me want to hurt her.
I think I might have issues with overly calm sounding people. They 1) make me nervous 2) make me distrust their sincerity, 3) make me want to give them an IV of caffeine to speed their speech up a little bit and 4) they are usually full of crap.
The song below is the most annoying thing I’ve ever heard. It is on about 23453 times a day and everyone LOVES it. I know I’m behind on this, but I really think it’s better that way, because I don’t think I could have dealt with this song in my life for any more time than I've already endured. Listen to it until at least the chorus. That is where it gets poetic. Hold on, let me see if I can get you the lyrics.
When there’s sunshine, we’ll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be a friend
Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella
You can stand under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh)
Under my umbrella
(Ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh)
Please note the
(Ella ella eh eh eh eh eh eh)’s
My dear lord. It’s art, right here in front of you.
And just to prove that I’m not completely heartless, this song makes me cry every single time I hear it in the car:
It’s simple, and cheesy in some parts, but the “Laaaaay meee down” - that one line, gets me every time.
(With a few firebombs)
Sunday, August 12, 2007
The guy living with me has a great schedule, one that I think should be implemented the world ‘round. He goes to work at noon on Monday and leaves at noon on Friday. They work extra hours during the week to make up for the lost hours at the beginning and middle of the week. Man, I could get used to a schedule like that.
I could get even more used to being independently wealthy though...
You know what’s funny, in a sort of alarming sort of way? Pretty much every day it is a struggle for me to remember where I parked my car in the morning. I park in a parking garage and every day after work I push a button and sorta hope that it’s actually the floor where I parked. I’m about 50% on accuracy. I can usually remember where I parked on the floor, so then it’s just a matter of going to all those floors and looking in the spot where my car should be, if it were to be on this floor.
This whole scenario does not bode well for my menopause years, is all I’m saying.
But if you think about it, it’s kinda amazing that we are always able to remember where we park. I mean, you’ve come out of concerts or sporting events and been one of thousands of people who parked their car, and yet you can remember where you parked your one car. I find that amazing. I don’t really know why.
But I do know that it’s much less amazing when you happened to be running late for your concert or sporting event and just parked and ran in, making no note of where you parked. Then afterwards you are like, “Uh oh.” And then it’s dark and so most of the cars look the same color. And your only real hope is wandering around pushing your alarm or unlock button, desperately hoping to see your little tail lights calling out to you in the distance, guiding you home.
Not that I’ve ever done that.
Not that I’ve ever stood in a parking garage with people, pushing a button while yelling, “Shhhh, listen for it, listen! There, do you hear? I think it’s up one level.” “No, that definitely came from a floor down.” “Maybe that was someone else’s alarm all together.”
I may just take a lot of public transportation once I reach menopause, it will save me a lot of effort.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Who knew how tiring it was to work for a living? Hmmm.
It’s about 10:45 and I’m writing this cause I need to go to bed. What happened to my wild and crazy lifestyle of watching the sun come up on a regular basis? It has sadly gone away. So far away.
I saw The Bourne Whatever The Name Is this weekend and I decide that I think I want to be a hired killer for a living. It looks like a lot of fun. You don’t do much, just kinda lay around waiting for a call and then you’re off to do the killing. The cool part is that the killing usually takes place is really cool foreign countries. I’m sure they cover your travel expenses. It really looks like a cool job. I mean except for the whole having to kill people thing. But, I mean, if I get free airfare...
Nola has had a rough week as well, with his mother off trying to work for a living. My parents (who are done working for a living) have decided that they think that the dog should probably stay with them during the week and I can have him on the weekends. Who am I, Britney Spears? I can’t have custody of my own damn dog? Geez.
So Nola has been over at my parent’s house for most of the week. Today he was home all day and I about died of guilt. So I went to the local doggie daycare after work and picked up an application. I know it is ridiculous to pay someone for the privilege of having your dog sit in their house instead of your house, but still. At least I’ll know that he is with other dogs and not just sitting at home crying and trying to plot a way to eat my red couch.
The greatest thing about the doggie daycare is that they have video cameras that you can access online. Because paying to leave you dog at a daycare isn’t psychotic enough, they want to give you the opportunity to stalk your own pet on the internet. Good lord.
Monday, August 06, 2007
Friday, August 03, 2007
Tonight was Puppy Class with the dog. Yet another week attempting to turn the dog into the perfect puppy. I think he might need more than one hour a week towards that effort. To be fair, he is overall a really good dog. He just has this teensy tiny little habit of not coming when I call him. I mean, he doesn’t do it all the time. Like when we are inside or at the dog park or in a backyard somewhere, he comes to me right when I call him. But when we are outside of my condo, with the whole world at his disposal, he doesn’t have much interest in the whole “come here” thing. He just looks up, thinks for a second, and then goes back to trying to find cat poop. And then I get mad. And I go after him. And then he thinks we are playing. And I am the opposite of playing. And by the time I do finally get him I am the opposite of happy. Which is probably why he doesn’t want to come to me in the first place actually - because when he finally gets to me I’m always in a really bad mood.
But other than that he’s just perfect.
And I need to know, is there anything cuter on this planet than a puppy class? Seriously. It’s like cute overload. I don’t even think a baby class (Do they have baby classes? They aren’t mobile, so they don’t need the “come here” lesson.) wouldn’t be as cute. Because babies cry and stuff. Puppies just play and jump around and generally love life and everything about it. Then when you have 10 puppies all together? Cute overload.
That is all I have to say for today. I’m in mourning for soon-to-be-gone sleeping patterns and can think of very little else. May they rest in peace. No pun intended.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Because Yahoo is 24 hours a day they are sometimes hard-pressed to come up with things that are worthy of Top Story status. Sometimes there is just nothing going on. Take for instance the fact that the other day I logged on and saw a picture of Oprah. Next to her picture was a quote from her saying something like, “I felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest (maybe stomach (maybe heart (definitely torso area))).” When I saw that I thought, “Oh dear, Maya Angelou is dead! Or some other old fabulous black person. Maybe Sydney Poitier. Let me click and investigate further.”
Then when I clicked I was led to a story about Oprah’s damn dog dying. Seriously. This is how famous this woman is. Or how slow a news day it was. Can you think of anyone else on the PLANET that would get a headline on the front page of Yahoo because their DOG DIED? Please. This woman is really just living in her own world of fame and fortune and god-like status. “Publicist Person, my dog died. I’m going to need you to write up a press release. Possibly even release some pictures of me looking very sad.”
Today I saw a great headline on Yahoo: Hollywood’s Pigeons to Get The Pill
I don’t know for sure, but isn’t there a war or something going on? You know, people dying and being blown up and slaughtered in the name of Jesus and freedom? Or something? I dunno. All I know is that you shouldn’t let your dog eat rubber balls and the pigeon poop problem in Hollywood warranted the attention of several people and committees and possibly even some scientists. Ahhhh, America.
Because I too am very famous, I will let you know that my dog still has a cone on his head and he is still not happy about it. He is less happy about the fact that I removed the cone for about an hour tonight and then had to put it back on. My friend, who is his vet, said that he was probably okay to be cone-free, so I took it off. But after a week of not being able to lick and bite wherever he wanted he went a little crazy. I feared that me may not stop until he had completely removed all of his private areas.
The saddest part of all is that when you walk a dog with a cone on his head people assume that the cone is because he is a biter. Then all of a sudden instead of, “Oooooohhhhhh, what a cute puppy!” I get, “.....” That “....” is accompanied by sideways glances that don’t quite make eye contact with the animal. My poor cute puppy has been branded a crazy biter. Which coincidently he became, this evening, when I removed the cone. The people giving him the sideways looks shouldn’t be worried, the worst that is going to happen is he might obsessively start biting his dinger off.
Put that on Yahoo.