There’s nothing worse than having your in-law’s dog throw up on you while you’re enjoying some syrup-covered bacon. Until he proceeds to eat the dog-food-puke chunks off of you and all you can get yourself to do in that moment is scream in abject terror. Of course, if I didn’t take the time to look at Alex with a bitchy stare and say ‘this is why I don’t want a dog!’ he wouldn’t have had time to eat it again. So, touchè, universe. Touchè. Happy Sunday!
An hour or so later the dog threw up again (not on me this time, thankfully) and the cycle started to repeat itself. Pretty sure this is a metaphor for my life. Even when I know something will have a bad outcome, at times I lack some necessary self control to stay away from it. Like when I eat bacon while I’m trying to work on my health or pick my nose even though I almost always feel crushing embarrassment when I’m caught red green-handed. Will I ever learn or will I be stuck in a puke-eating cycle for the rest of my life like poor Fido?
So, we’re finally on my self-hosted site. I hope everything is in order and shows up correctly. Let me know if there’s any sort of difference you notice and I’ll try to get it fixed. I’m not sure if people are getting alerts to when I like/reply back to a comment or not, but everything else seems to be in good order. Thanks for hanging with me.
If we’ve previously talked through email, I don’t have that address anymore. The new one is : firstname.lastname@example.org
There will be more changes to the site as time goes on, this is just the beginning 🙂 I have some plans in mind!
I live on a cul-de-sac in one of the top 5 safest towns in America. Seriously. People are happy here with their pedigree dogs and their perfect families. Everybody waves. Everybody’s polite. It’s goddamn sickening, guys, and completely unnatural. But everyone deals with neighbors that need to be slapped upside the head once in awhile. Even here in Perfectville, USA.
I’ve had an ongoing issue with one of the neighborhood kids. Now, you don’t need much introduction to this kid, except that he lives across the cul-de-sac and he specializes in being strange and an asshole. Good times. I know that sounds harsh, but really…. all kids are strange as hell. Yes, even yours. This kid will do whatever the hell he wants and has parents who are never home to correct the behavior. He climbs over our fence and tramples on our garden. He’s opened and walked right into our front door. He’s even taken our mail from the box before. It’s insanity. I, and many other neighbors, have talked to him and his parents multiple times but nothing ever comes of it.Awhile ago I spoke to him again about staying out of our yard, especially if the gate is locked. But… he didn’t listen. Again.
So I came up with a master plan to get him back. Which required me asking one of my other neighbors if I could have his dog’s poop. (Yes, it was awkward. Yes, he probably thought I was crazy and questioned whether this town is safe anymore.) I lined up the poop by the fence where the kid lands and hosed it down with water. You know… to soften it up nicely for impact. So thoughtful of me, right? Then… I sat there excitedly eating chips and waited all day staring out my window. It was worth it. Just to see the look on the kids face when he fell into a puddle of murky shit water with bugs floating all around. He hasn’t jumped our fence in months.
Blair: 1Neighbor Boy: 0
Sometimes you’ve gotta fight fire with fire.
(Disclaimer – No, this kid doesn’t have any disabilities besides being a jerk, so don’t worry. And, yes, I could have been an adult and not stooped to his level, but where the hell is the fun in that?)
Fun Fact: Americans spend more money on pets in a year than Germany spends on its entire defense budget.
Damn right we do! Let’s face it… animals are better than people. There’s no chance Fido is going to hit on your husband and tell your mutual friends that he plans to grab his ass and pretend it was an accident. I doubt Lady Meowington gives a shit if you roll out of bed with Cheeto dust in your hair because you haven’t bothered to shower for a few days. She’d probably like you even more.
People suck. So… go on friends. Go out and buy a heated pet bed. Some specialty food. Spend $200+ dollars on a tree your cat is going to rip to shreds. A pink tutu for your dog. Okay, don’t do that last one. Dogs shouldn’t be in tutus. Seriously… don’t. You copy?
(I have an off topic question – have any of you gone from wordpress.com to .org? Did you have issues? Did you lose your followers? Comments? Do you still have access to the WP Reader? Yes, I’m slow and terrible with computers. Help a girl out!)
Well, it’s finally happened. I lost my virginity last night. I have to say — it was pretty magical. We were outside, clutching each other close underneath the Christmas lights. It was…. perfect.
I finally got to pick out my first-ever live Christmas tree. Woooo. (Come on, guys. I’m married. How sad would it be if I actually was a virgin?) When I was growing up, we always had a fake one. My parents are practical, stuffy neat-freaks. Why the hell would you cut a tree down and bring it inside when it will cause a mess of pine needles all over the floor? Blasphemous! Since our cat is allergic to everything and your mother. (Yes, even YOUR mother. I mean — have you ever heard of a cat allergic to dogs? She’s quite special) We have never had a real tree because we were afraid it would bother her.
Sadly, the tree won’t be living in our house due to the cat, but my in-laws still invited us to dinner and to help them pick their two out. For a Christmas fanatic — it tickled my fancy quite a bit.
But, we had a debate last night that needs to be settled. I’m really curious about y’all’s opinions: At the restaurant where we had dinner there was a man with a service dog next to us. He was an emotional support dog. The man was eating alone and sharing all of his food with the begging pup. When the man ran out of fries to supply to him, the dog started begging at nearby tables for random people’s food. Our opinions were all different at the table. If you were sitting at the table with us, what would you be thinking? (I don’t think the poll can be seen on the Reader)
When I was growing up I had an irrational fear of being humped by dogs. There were quite a few years they scared the absolute shit out of me. Not because I thought they would attack and bite me… but, I thought they would cling onto my leg and make me their bitch. I used to wake up from nightmares of dogs chasing me just so they could knock me over and help themselves to my limbs.
It seems pretty weird, I know. I actually had noidea what humping was at that time. Guys, I grew up under a rock. I was one of those awkward, overly sheltered, strange kids that liked to sit in the corner and pick my nose. When we first met, it was highly likely you’d assume I was home-schooled. (My husband was home-schooled, so I can say that without it being offensive…right?) All I knew was that a dog had tried before, and my grandpa had smacked his butt and pushed him away, calling it gross. After that, I lived in fear of it happening again.
(Layton. A dog Alex and I fostered for a few months last year)
Now, I love dogs. Hell, I love all animals for the most part. But the same fear still manifests itself now. I can’t watch a nature documentary without having the remote readily available. You bet your ass I’m changing the channel if any sort of animal mating comes on the screen. And, there is still part of me that gets a little nervous and sweaty when we are planning a trip to the zoo.I don’t want to see something that, you know… can’t be unseen. I know, I know. It’s the circle of life. It’s what animals do, they are just procreating. It’s nature. Grow up, Blair… you’re 28. That’s why it’s called an irrational fear, people.
Well, today is Veteran’s Day here in the US. Not only did my grandfather protect me from a hump-happy dog, he also kicked some Nazi ass in WWII. Thanks, Grandpa. Miss you. Please don’t roll over in your grave because I’ve included you in a post about humping.
And, thanks to all veterans for your service. I’d buy all of you lunch if I could afford to.