- We are both still awake, and there are birds chirping outside and What. The. Fuck.
- Way, way too many skinny, pale, almost-vaguely-ethnic, blonde chicks up in my fashion editorials right now. Diversity, PLEASE.
Fuck You Friday #2
Published January 23, 2009 | 
FUCK YOU CHIHUAHUAS.
I love you two so much that it almost hurts my brain, but you have no appreciation for me whatsoever. Don’t you realize I have more qualities than “rubs my belly”, “gives me food”, “opens door to let me outside”? I am a human being, I have many other capabilities and charms. For example, I still have my reproductive organs, which is more than I can say for one of you.
Like, let’s be real. I’ve seen you both eat puke and your own shit (at least, that’s what I’m assuming it was, because thinking of you eating another dog’s shit is somehow even more gross). I’ve seen the shreds of Kleenex strewn across my living room carpet in the morning because you decided you wanted to eat the boogers that used to be contained in them. I’ve come home from shopping only to find you guiltily eating the crotch of my underwear that you pulled through the holes of the laundry basket because I forgot to close the bedroom door. You lick each other’s ears and eyes and asses. YOU TWO ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING LITTLE CREATURES.
When I take you outside, one of you invariably barks and bounces, stiff-legged, through the snow and onto a neighbour’s patio. The other follows. Then I have to shoo you off her patio, and let me tell you, if you had any idea how huge, unbalanced, and awkward it is to try and move fast enough to control two chihuahuas that are like seven inches off the ground and I can’t even see over my stomach half the fucking time, you might be a little more respectful and stay off that bitch’s patio. Honestly, that’s all I ask. Romp anywhere else. Stay off people’s patios. I was surprised that, after she banged on her window when I was trying to shoo you off it at 12:30am, you didn’t bark at her. At least that’s a positive. You just got even more excited and ran in even more circles.
Oh, and let’s not even talk about how you get so interested in sniffing pee or romping through the snow that you end up ten yards away from me in drifts so deep that all I can see are the tips of your ears, then decide you’re too damned cold to continue moving, so you stand there whining pathetically while trying to stand on as few paws as possible. Guess who gets to break a path through the snow to rescue you because it breaks her heart to see you upset? That’s right, me.
THEN YOU SHIT ON MY FLOOR WHEN I BRING YOU BACK INSIDE.
Yeah, fuck you chihuahuas. You’ve got the good life and you don’t even appreciate it.
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Fuck You Fridays are the brainchild of Cristin over at Tiptoeing Through The Tulips. Drop by and see what’s gotten under her skin this week!
The First Snowflake of the Season
Published November 16, 2008 | … landed on Buffy’s head this morning, right between her perky ears.
It melted quickly, but it made me smile nonetheless.
Welcome Wagon
Published September 22, 2008 | 
It’s the first day of Fall! This could be any road where I grew up… gorgeous!
So I’m lounging around yesterday afternoon in my undies at my computer, talking to my mom online, a glass of Nestea at my side (I love this stuff… I drink it all the time, then tell my trainer I’m drinking “water with lemon”. What? I squeeze fresh lemon into it, and it’s made with WATERandpowder, so technically I’m just omitting that it’s full of sugar), and my dogs being perfectly quiet on their loveseat. Is that sad, that we’ve basically let the dogs take over the loveseat? They have their own down comforter and wool sweater. We actually bought the sweater for Chris and he, being the way he is, tossed it on top of the couch when we got it home — then as soon as we turned our backs, Buffy pulled it off the couch and made it HER SWEATER WHICH NO ONE CAN TOUCH.
That reminds me of this cute video I took of Buffy & Joss fighting when Buffy got her head stuck in a hole in her sweater (sorry about the crappy lighting):
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2kO9auwilA]
ANYHOW, I’m sitting at my computer. The phone rings. It’s not a long-distance ring, which means it isn’t Chris; the name on Caller ID is “Janet” something. I answer, and turns out this Janet is a member of my city’s Welcome Wagon — she’s in the area, she heard I just moved in (who told her?), and would I like her to stop by? I’m hesitant; then she mentions that she has free stuff from local businesses, and I tell her SURE! COME SEE ME!
The next ten minutes are filled with frantic straightening up (thank goodness I swept & mopped yesterday) and a distraught stare at my sink full of dirty dishes. Usually I do the dishes before I go to bed, but yesterday I cut the pad of my thumb on the lid of bottle of olive oil (no, seriously… second time I’ve done this) and it stung too damned much for me to fuck with hot soapy water.
But check it out, I got some sweet stuff from this lady:
- 2 toothbrushes from local dentists; the third gave me some floss
- a free haircut at a local stylist (score! remember how I was telling you I wanted to get bangs, mom?)
- $15 gift certificate to a spa, which I will totally put towards that pedicure I’ve been wanting
- free appetizer at one restaurant, free lunch at another
- free oil change & a keychain from a Ford dealership
- pampering session (aka sales pitch) from a Mary Kay dealer
- 2 pens from various financial firms
- notepad from a private school (or I guess an “independent school”) where tuition is $12000 a year
But most pleasing to me was the tidbit of information that there is a farmer’s market at one of the local malls three days a week. Sadly, it only runs through the end of September, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make out like a bandit this coming week when my darling husband and I get there FIRST THING IN THE MORNING to pick out all the good stuff. And, I got a map of all the “pick your own produce” farms in the county, which I am totally thrilled about (although I will point out that http://www.pickyourown.org is an excellent resource for this as well).
I love this city so much more than where we used to live. I mean seriously, a Welcome Wagon? Most importantly, SHE ASKED ME if I was expecting, with an understanding gesture towards my little baby bump. I could have cried and hugged her. Then I told her yes, then she told me that they do a “Baby Shower” Welcome Wagon to welcome my baby to the community too.
How adorable is that?
On a more solemn note — I love you dearly, Nana, and I will always miss you; all of my memories of you are inspiring and warm. May you rest in peace.