Dog Is My Co-Pilot

I remember a time when the sentiment "My life is going to the dogs" was something bad. It meant that there was no control, that chaos was following your every venture, that, essentially, your life sucked and there wasn't a thing you could do about it. As a dog owner, I wish my life was going to the dogs. My dogs are spoiled, happy, well-fed prima-donnas who live in a perpetual state of contentment and who live for jerky and belly rubs. Buddy, the youngest in my pack, is curled up at my feet, dreaming doggy dreams of birds chased in golden fields of light and joy. However, I'm currently procrastinating on doing paperwork for my job, that is more and more feeling like a responsibility I don't care to shoulder any longer. Dogs don't care about making the world a better place (and still manage to do so daily for those whose life they touch), they don't stress over deadlines, about gaining weight, about making a car payment or replicating their grandmothers recipe for apple pie. Dogs just live. I don't know if it's just that I'm gradually losing my faith in humanity, or if I spend entirely too much time hanging out with my buds of the canine persuasion, but I find myself trying to emulate their way of life. NO....I am not sniffing butts or chewing on the cloven hooves of other animals (at least not today)but I am trying to let go of the expectations I place on myself and the life I live. I work hard, but I don't beat myself up too much if I take a break to nap in the sun or find something yummy to snack on. I show affection freely and feel good about the affection I get in return from the people I care about. I avoid others who bring me down with their yipping and snapping...usually cat people. Living like a dog is pretty great. I'm not sure when we humans decided we were the superior species, but I think it might be time to take another look. We bind ourselves to jobs we tolerate and sometimes hate to buy things we don't need for reasons we can't explain. We would rather communicate with each other via internet than meet and make physical contact in the form of hugs (and belly rubs!) We are self-conscious of appearing too enthusiastic when we do something we love (like hearing our favorite song and dancing even when no one else is.) Dogs don't think like that. So, in my life's journey I'm happy to have Dog as my co-pilot. Even if it does mean frequent stops at the park for bathroom breaks and Frisbee. Actually, especially if means that. Someone (or something) needs to remind my feet that the dirt is soft, that the wind can carry a world of smells and that water tastes sweeter after a long day of playing and smiling.

Weak Wednesday

Happy Hump Day ya'll! (I've always wondered who started the whole Hump Day thing and the details on the reasoning behind Wednesday being dubbed so). Like many things in life, it's the details that count!
I'm not feeling particularly creative or thoughtful today, so maybe Wednesday should be titled "Weak Wednesday"? The weekend is still two full days away, I still have three full days of work (if you count WW), and I have yet to win the lottery and become one of "those people" that have golden toilets and Fiji water for my dogs Tiffany bowls. Suck it Wednesday.

In other news, my dogs are incredibly depressed with all this news coverage of possibly shortening the number of days that the USPS (United States Postal Service for those of you that might be drunk or otherwise intoxicated to numb the pain of Weak Wednesday) will deliver mail. The government is considering kicking Saturday off of the list of mail delivery days to try to alleviate some of the 9 BILLION dollars of debt accumulated. Personally, it's not a big deal for moi. I do about 98% of my "mailing" via the internet, including paying bills, shopping, harassing family members I don't get to see that often, you know, the norm.

My dogs, however, are inconsolable. Even though Saturday is dog park day, and they'll get to run about minus their leashes and hump till their hearts content, we usually wait until after the mail runs so they can get a good 3 minutes of barking out of their system. Schedules are important, dear government! Sure, people will be out of jobs, but what about my dogs!?!?! I guess they'll just have to go back to eerily barking at my walls in the middle of the afternoon, much like they do in the middle of the night. I adopted all three of my pooches, so I'm not exactly sure what kind of environment they were raised in. Were they all lab test animals who can now commune with spirits? Do they have PTS? Or do they simply enjoy watching me walk to another room while shrieking much like the banshee's of ancient Irish lore?
Man, that shit freaks me out. Especially if I'm watching "Ghost Hunters" or some other freaky show that I love to saturate whats left of my left temporal lobe with, alone.
Shew. I'm rambling. My soul is sucked into the Weak Wednesday abyss. I think I'll straighten my hair. God bless the maker of the Chi flat iron! It tames my lions mane of locks. I wonder who first thought of ironing their hair for dramatic effect? Maybe it was one of those 50's era housewives who ate some lead paint and while ironing her husbands shirts for the next day of "manly business" and thought "hey...I'll iron my freaking hair. Yeah, that'll be totally hot stuff." Whatever the case may be, it sure does make my hair more manageable and glossy and less like the Cowardly Lion.


Ahhh. Buddy just ate my turkey sandwich. Instead of stopping him, I'll just snap a pic.


Ciao!

P.S.-This has brightened my day, so hopefully it will do the same for you my lil Baby Sasses!








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Now playing: Kings of Leon - Notion
via FoxyTunes

Twisted Sister

Nope, I'm not talking about that fabulous 80's rock band that brought us such classics as "We're Not Gonna' Take It" and "Burn In Hell", I'm talking about the current condition of my own back.
*cue the ominous music signifying horrible news*
I have somehow, in the midst of my everyday job (which sometimes consists of lifting some of the more elderly people in the MR group home that I work at), re-arranging the garage, walking a Siberian Husky for KC who works all the time so the dog has next to zero manners and tugs my freaking arm out of my socket, working on making a studio space so I can be consistent with my artwork again, and building the better mouse trap (okay, maybe not that but it sounded good), I have twisted multiple muscles in my lower back.
I found this excruciating piece of information out after ski daddling to the nearest UTC (Urgent Treatment Center) after losing an entire night of sleep Wednesday night from back pain and then doubling over in the shower after being assaulted with some pretty hardcore muscle spasms. I'm one of "those" people who treats going to the doctors office much like walking before a German firing squad and has to be near deaths door (or crippled much like I mentioned before) before I'll seek medical attention. Terrible habit, I know, but I'm working on it, so cut me some slack.
I digress.
The mechanics of a doctors office are sadly lacking. I was in the examination room for 3 1/2 hours. I only spent about 15 minutes actually in the presence of other people. I was left in a tiny, sterile room with 3 year old magazines discussing various terri-fucking-fying illnesses and some of those tongue presser thingies for company. You are NOT allowed (according to the blue bloody million signs posted) to talk on your cell phone. Call me crazy, but this doesn't seem like the best way to encourage people to come back. Ostracize, scare, release. Then they take your blood pressure (incorrectly) and marvel that it's high. Hmmm....imagine that? (I nearly bit my sarcastic tongue off, mind you)

I'm just dumbfounded that people who make such insane amounts of money like doctors aren't a tad bit more encouraging and friendly. My doctor wasn't MEAN, he just seemed....dead inside (much like Zombies, but instead of brains they crave insurance)








Maybe it's the hours, maybe it's the number of chronically ill people they provide service to, but it all seemed so bleak. My advice to the clinic? Paint the walls something other than institution white, leave PUZZLE books instead of medical magazines for patients to pre-occupy themselves with. What about a TV? I understand the importance of creating awareness, but for most people, introducing them to new illnesses while waiting to treat their current one, can't exactly be considered the path to enlightenment. ESPECIALLY, if they're sitting, alone, in a strange environment.

I'm sleepy. My thoughts are muddled. Damned pain killers.
*zombie time*

Madame, You Must Eradicate Your Weeds

How do everyone! My, my, my what a weekend this has been! (can't you tell by all the exclamation marks?)
My weekend started Friday night with an impromptu invitation and acceptance by yours truly to go and watch a friends husbands friends band play immediately after work. Since I wasn't in the mood to veg out and watch the re-make of Friday the 13th (I'm still nervous to watch it as I've heard quite a few "mediocre" reviews and I'm a die hard horror fan) I slapped on some war paint and commenced to paint the town red with friends (okay, maybe not red, but at least a fuchsia color.) I was told this band was a Tool cover band but soon found out they were a really bad mimic of Clutch and Queens of the Stoneage (both bands I enjoy normally.) The lead singer of the group was trying way too hard to stand out in appearance (I'm assuming because his singing abilities were sub par) and was wearing fishnets on his hands, a weird looking grandma skirt (not a cool kilt like Jonathan Davis from Korn) and some pink and black striped tights that I'm quite certain he picked up from the ladies section at Hot Topic. After about an hour of listening to him scream and strut like a peacock on crystal meth, I bid adieu to my poor friend who's husband was insisting they stay and finish out the performance. I met two other friends at a local tavern to wrap up the stifling humid night with some cold drinks and a long discussion about tattoo's we wish to get in the future.

My friend Jason watching the band and trying not to noticeably cringe. We listen to a lot of live music and this was waaaay on the bottom.


Saturday morning I wake up and check the mail like a good little suburban housewife and find a letter from our neighborhood association. Hmmm....seems interesting so I open it immediately to see why the powers that be of Masterson Station had sent us a letter. It turns out our flower bed "did not meet neighborhood standards" and we had "many weeds that needed to be "eradicated". I look out the window at our bed and do notice a couple of blades of grass poking up through the lava rock but nothing like the botanical garden that is indicated in the letter. When I think of the word "eradicated" I think of ensuing in battle with an unstoppable rebel force and striking them down without mercy. Telling me to "eradicate" my "weeds" just seemed a little dramatic but I suppose it is on the top of the list of "thou shalt not's" for the old turds that run the neighborhood association and have nothing better to do with their time or printer ink. You'll be happy to know I "eradicated" the hell out those weeds and took no prisoners.
Later that night I went in to spend some time with the pooches and drink some tasty adult beverages. For some reason unbeknownst to me my rat terrier/chihuahua mix Peanut and my friends Siberian Husky, Emma (kind of like David and Goliath) get into a UFC style fighting match that took me, my friend KC and 5 full minutes to get them apart. Peanut, who was taking the brunt of the beating since she is so much smaller, went on to latch onto Emma's ass as we were pulling Emma off of her and didn't let go until I picked her up and pried her little mouth off of Emma's furry behind. Upon further inspection after both parties settled down I noticed that Peanut had a gash in her ear and a puncture wound in her cheek. When it comes to my dogs, I'm quite the mother hen so I was pretty distressed to find that my furry, four legged companion was injured. In fact, I started sobbing like a 6 year old who discovered that she/he had only been given clothes on Christmas morning, but managed to Google dog wound care and follow procedures to ensure that her wound would not get infected (it's looking much better today and is healing quite nicely.)

Sunday the hubby and I watched "Year One" with Jack Black and Michael Cera, two actors whose movies usually bring me great satisfaction. Unfortunately, Year One was pretty mediocre with scenes here and there that were funny (usually the ones they used in the trailer.) The best part was a preview for the upcoming rock and sock 'em, blow their brains out, ass kickin' Woody Harrelson movie "ZombieLand".

Well, I'm finally watching Friday the 13th, so I'm off to give it a thumbs up or the finger. Ciao!
*best read when listening to Kings of Leon's "Closer"*

From Where I'm Sitting

From where I'm sitting I can see two dogs running around like the devil was chasin' 'em with a red hot poker when actually they're just happy to be alive, together and well fed.
From where I'm sitting I watch said dogs chew happily on the foot of another animal (cow hoof) oblivious to how right or wrong it is for them to be entertained/joyful about chewing on the mode of transportation of another creature. I am not immune to the comedies/tragedies of everyday life or how fine a line exists between those two very different realities. I work five days a week for a "better life". I work for the weekends, those two out of 7 of my life when I am rarely expected to be anything other than another person throwing money into the commercial, economic war- machine that is American society. I am corrupted by the very things I enjoy. I make a choice everyday to continue as I am or rebel against this life I've made for myself.
From where I'm sitting I see my lawn freshly mowed by the hand of someone I've never met. My lawn is someone's job. Is this the American dream?
From where I'm sitting I can see a life that is mine, good or bad. I stretch my toes and relish my right to paint them whatever whacky color that comes to mind. Today they are a sultry red, nothing fancy, nothing too funky, but vibrant and alive. Maybe I'll change the color or maybe I'll wait until it's chipped and faded because I tell myself I'm too busy to fix it.
The best part about where I am sitting is that should I choose, I can sit somewhere else.
No wait.
I can stand somewhere else. Because the problem isn't with what I'm seeing but how I'm seeing it. I live a life seen through many angles and am all the better for it.
"Change is inevitable. Except from a vending machine."
*best read when listening to Band of Horses sing "The Funeral". *

Ciao!

Monday's Are Not The Devil After All

Stop the presses, baton down the hatches, I just participated in something unnatural that I just had to share via this blog.
Are you ready?
Just take a minute to prepare yourself.


I had a good Monday.!!!! I know, it seems like quite an oxymoron but it's true! After my absolutely tragic Friday and a mediocre Saturday followed by a mind numbingly pathetic Sunday spent cleaning, Monday came in just in time to salvage my three day weekend. Don't ya' just love surprises like that?
I finally got some things finished around the house that I've been putting off...well, since we moved in last May. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction now when I walk by our office and see that my old HP desktop has been placed in a nice retirement home (aka closet) and that wiring of the television, X-Box, DVD player, and cable box are now tactfully concealed (why don't we have wireless everything by now anyway?!)
My sister is in Lexington for business and I finally got to show her where I hang my hat (or would be if I had been wearing a hat today). Normally, my husband and I are quite nomadic. Even before our nuptials I moved regularly, every year just like clockwork. My sister hadn't seen my living quarters in over 3 years. She lives in TN, pretty close to Gatlinburg so it's a pretty decent drive for her to head this far "north" (still makes me laugh when she calls me a yankee) especially with a 3 year old and a 11 month old so it's usually just easier for me (who is childless unless you count the four-legged variety) to just visit her. It was strange seeing her without the kids, as I love them like a fat kid loves cake, but it was also nice to get qt time with my lil sis. We went out to eat and laughed about things I hadn't thought of in a long time. It's so rejuvenating to be around people who have known you, good and bad, your entire life. Here' s a picture of sis eating (I'm sure she'd love to know I posted this for all to see.)














Over the weekend I had a really bad experience at Wal-Mart trying to return a set of Phillips Magnavox laptop speakers I had bought a couple of weeks ago that stopped working properly after one day. The customer service associate might as well have been taking my mugshot and accusing me of grand larsony, so "immense" was her customer servicing abilities (please tell me you picked up on the sarcasm!?). So I didn't have my receipt, I know from personal experience (i.e. five years of working for the company) that Wal-Mart will take anything just short of used diapers and that heffer was telling me there was no way they could take back 2 week old speakers? I call bullshit. The didn't even check the box, or my ID. I left feeling frustrated and irritated.
Tonight I took the speakers to a Wal-Mart on the other side of town and had a gift card with the balance of the speakers on it after about 2 seconds. The only question I was asked was if they worked or not (not) and then, click, clack, thank you very much. This was the power of my mysteriously good Monday.
After dropping my exhausted sister back off at her hotel, Dan and I went to watch "The Hangover". What an incredibly funny movie! I'm not one to watch and tell so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's well worth the movie admission.
Now my night is wrapping up with a little DWF (doggie wrestling federation) between Emma (the siberian husky) and Buddy (the minature cattle dog). What better way to go to sleep than with a smile from four legged shenanigans? Oh sweet Monday, thou was kind to me today.