suck it up, buttercup...
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Cancer (June 21-July 21)Your obsession with a small problem in your sex life disproportionately demands your attention this week, obscuring the larger picture of near-total sexual satisfaction. Before complaining, reflect on those less fortunate. Do you think that boring, stoic couple in 4F has as many sex toys as you do? No. Do you think your ex is having any sex at all right now? Let’s assume not. Count your blessings and your shortcomings will seem insignificant by comparison.
(Nerve)
“Unlike your girly privates, which are internal, boy privates are external. God knew that nobody wanted to see all our lady mess, so He pushed everything up inside you. What in tarnation He was thinking when he came up with that nasty, dangling, squishy flesh on boys beats the heck out of me, but I suspect it was so it would be easier for Him to keep an eye on what they’re up to. Because trust me: that grotesque grab bag of horror and disappointment is always up to something, gals.”
*snort*
I have had hiccups since around 10:00 this morning. They won’t stop. I’ve held my breath, I’ve slowly sipped water, I’ve eaten food. I’ve breathed in a whack of semi-fresh air. I’ve sang, danced and belched.
My head is pounding from all the fucking JERKING AROUND my head is doing along with these hiccups, the beag seems to think I’m about to snap and kill her, and Daisy has left the room in order to seek silence.
Please. Kill. Me.
Edited to add: Now it’s 7:38pm and I STILL HAVE THE DAMNED HICCUPS!
Without question, this is STILL the best ad for birth control EVER.
With a huge backlog of posts sitting in draft, I’m leaving it up to you (again) to pick from the mystery list and help me decide which entry to finish. Here are your options:
And your vote is…..?
After feeding the dogs and walking them and getting everyone settled in, I got a brilliant idea to strap on the car-harnesses and take the two idiots out for a ride in the c-a-r. This is because I, apparently, hate myself with a seething passion and wish I was deaf in at least one ear. Clearly. I bought the harnesses a while ago but was reluctant to try them out without Coffee around to help me wrestle the hairy beasts. Both dogs are always happy to get INTO the car, though, so I figured I could handle it.
Alphabet meme. One of many I’ve had in draft for a bit…
I do not do well without adequate sleep. When denied a solid eight to twenty hours, I become unpleasant to be around. If you repeat that over the course of a few nights, say, with insomnia? I become unpleasant to KNOW, let alone be near. People around the world who have my name in their address book find themselves standing, paralyzed, cold-shivery, in the middle of downtown Hong Kong hyperventilating and fearing the worst. I’m just, um, not good without sleep.
Last night I slept, but not as well as I wanted and needed. I woke up this morning and blinked at the alarm clock and had a momentary delusion that if I quietly turned the alarm off Coffee and I could continue to sleep and nothing bad would come of it. Nothing bad like, say, him losing his job. Or him killing me when he woke up six hours later and realized what I had done. I was THAT tired.
But I dragged my sorry butt out of bed anyway and drank my morning mug of java. I shuffled around the house taking care of dogs and went grocery shopping and came home around 1:30 and did some more little bits o’ stuff and yawned a lot. At around 3:30 I decided to go and read a book – in bed, curled up under a blanket – and passed out cold immediately after reading a few short chapters of my book.
Whenever I nap, the dogs nap too. (Yay!) The house is silent, the dogs have free reign – but instead of destroying the sofa, they curl up in or near their crates and snore. They know that they can wake me up at 4:30 for ‘dinner’ and a walk around the ‘hood – and, in fact, it’s encouraged. Quite often I will wake up before them and have the pleasure of smooching a 400 degree dog who has just awakened. It’s heavenly.
Since dogs are mini-alarm clocks, I have never managed to sleep past 4:30 because one of them (we’ll call her “the beag”) will start dancing around in the hallway outside the bedroom making little yipping noises at precisely that time. She knows it’s time for her dinner and that it’s my duty to provide that meal. Unlike my usual alarm clock, these ‘yips’ only grow louder and more insistant if I ignore them. There is no ‘off’ button on a beagle. (But oh, if I could invent one I’d make BILLIONS OF DOLLARS!) I get up, walk them, feed them, and then we hang around rubbing bellies and scratching itchy faces and all the rest of the evening routine.
Today, however, I passed out cold and woke up on my own. No dog yipping. No barking or dancing or noise whatsoever. I assumed it was 4:22 until I pulled the cover off of my groggy head and saw 6:00 on the clock display. I panicked – where are the dogs? are they sick? injured? escaped somehow? – and launched from the bed. Daisy was staring at me from the hallway where she was guarding the bathroom door. Indeed, the beag had locked herself in there. She does that a lot.
I’m not sure whether Daisy was keeping Zooey calm and comfortable or whether she was just making the beag stay quiet so I could continue to sleep. Normally when she locks herself in there she goes insane – howling and barking and yelping to be released from the dark evil room (that she repeatedly locks herself in because beagles are not that smart sometimes). But there wasn’t a peep until I nudged Daisy aside and opened the door.
And then the beag exploded from the bathroom, attacked me with all the love possible, ran down the stairs howling like a lunatic and barked and barked and barked. Daisy gave me a big-eyed look – one that read, “I’m sorry about her. If I could walk her myself I would, but you won’t let me go outside without you.” and herded me down the stairs to pick up leashes and poop-bags and get the show on the road.
In the meantime, I missed emailing Coffee during his dinner break (which I like doing, dammit) and I’m completely disoriented even now. I’m all groggy and my hair is messed up and even the walk outside didn’t help clear my fuzzy head.
Next time I tell you that the dogs don’t help out around the house, please remind me of this valuable service they provide: The wake-up that cannot be ignored (but can lock itself in a bathroom on a whim).
Last night I met up with Lisa at Emma’s Back Porch which was unexpectedly lovely. It’s one of those places that I had made frequent reservations for work-related functions (for the sales team, generally) but I had never been to myself. I kinda’ knew that wherever we went I’d have fun – because Lisa is fun, and thus the location is not so important – but it was great to sit next to Lake Ontario and watch geese and ducks and seagulls flying above the waves. That, and I ate onion rings. Nothing beats onion rings.
The problem with Lisa, as I see it, is that she does absolutely nothing to discourage my unending chatter. In fact, she encourages it – and then many hours pass without notice. At one point I looked out over the water and realized that I could no longer see the water because it was pitch dark outside. That’s about when we decided we should probably head home, especially since one of us had a rather long trek ahead of her. Of course, that didn’t stop us from continuing the conversation in the parking lot. Yay!
I had assumed Coffee would get home before me, even though he had a late meeting at work scheduled, but when I pulled into the driveway the house was still dark. I released the dogs, walked them, and on our way home ran into Coffee. The beag was.. excited to see him. To say the least. I ended up letting go of the leash and letting her barrel at him – I couldn’t keep up. Once he was sufficiently mauled by the smaller dog, I let the bigger one attack him too. Aaaaaaaall good. We drugged ‘em up, fed ‘em some snacks and put them to bed.
But the highlight came this morning. Better than onion rings and conversation. Better than anything I expected.
There was no shit in the beagle’s crate this morning. Nary a drop o’ poo.
Better still? We went outside and she pooped a SOLID POOP.
My god. Dinner with Lisa followed by solid beagle poop? My life is UNBELIEVABLY GOOD.
Most this morning I felt.. weepy. Weepy because the beag is still shitting liquid, because Daisy is still scratching her scabby-self, it’s raining and I’m tired, because there is no chocolate in my house at the moment, because I’m feeling overwhelmed, because I’m tired of washing load after load of shit-covered towels, because, because, because.
I took the dogs for yet another useless walk (“I need to go outside! I need to go now! Oh, wait, no I don’t. I didn’t need to, but I’m glad we’re out here now! Look! I’m outside! Let’s sniff stuff! In the pouring rain! Yay! I’m a beagle!“) and came home soggy and cold and crabbier than I was when I started.
I opened the mailbox and discovered a large envelope.
A large envelope containing an autographed photo of William Shatner and a certificate of authenticity and, well, suddenly all the beagle shit in the WORLD couldn’t.. well, okay, I’m exaggerating a little. But! William Shatner! Yes! William Shatner! Oh! OH!!
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