Newest

Older

Profile

Notes

Dazzle Me

Contact

Buddies

Favorite Sites

Ad Report Card
Ah Yes, Medical School
Cute Overload
Crime Library
Crime Rant
DanjerusKurves
Diaryland
Dipsy Doodle
DJRainDog
Doghigh
Dooce
Doodle Zenovka
Dream Moods
Finslippy
Four Four
Fumbling With Needles
Going Loopy
Indexed
Knitting Spaz
James Lileks
Post Secret
Sarkasmo
Second Life
Southern Gal Knits
Suburban Bliss
Terra-Cottage
The Exceller Fund
Things My Boyfriend Says
TMZ
We Three Bitches
Wendy Knits
Yeahimadork

2007-02-13 - 8:08 p.m.

Being a Whore For the Media is Completely Underrated

This morning, I hoisted a pit bull over the back fence.

One of the best ways to literally lose face.

But this was the sweetest pup, as evidenced by her rolling on her back the minute I stepped outside to check out the interloper situation. She squiggled on her back all over the porch and bounced around giving me kisses between eating big helpings of dog and cat food.

By all means, cutie. Not that she needed the extra poundage.

Then I saw the owner's head pop over the fence, calling from the yard catty corner to mom's. I bebopped over to the fence, and after a brief discussion and some logistical on-the-fly "let's try this" planning, I managed to get Shyler (sp?) right side up and away from the food long enough to scoop her up in my arms. I don't know how much she weighed, but it had to be in the 50's. I lugged her squibbling body of love chubs across the yard, stepped up on a wooden bench and lifted her, while neighbor guy stood on a patio chair, reached down and grabbed her from my arms.

I confessed that my dog had was in his yard the day before.

You see, after romping in mom's green, beautiful, spacious, interesting backyard last week with spring-like temps, Buddy apparently decided "What, this is IT?" and desired to roam elsewhere.

Like the next door neighbor's backyard, via two other backyards.

Luckily, the less-than-ambitious 19 year-old son was home and unlocked the gate (according to mom, he was fired from Subway, which made her query: "How do you get fired from Subway?")

Good question.

Anyhoo, after blocking all the escape routes with spiky branches and whatever I could find in the garage (old windows screens, patio chair, wooden bench, cardboard), I was fairly confident fuzzy Houdini was adequately enclosed. But when he began to make a beeline for every defense each time he went outside, I had to start supervising him. (Meanwhile, SweetPea was just happy to run around unencumbered and enjoy the weather).

So, yesterday afternoon, I took my eyes off Buddy for 2 minutes and he was GONE. I felt like Adam Walsh's mother in that Florida Sears for a split second. Then I gained my "dog does not equal child" perspective. But I was still concerned. BECAUSE MY GODDAMN FUZZY KID WAS MISSING.

I immediately ran to the back corner, and hopped up on the wooden bench right as he popped through a hole into another (Shyler's) yard.

The little fucker had broken through my obviously shitty barrier and squeezed down a slim, rather nasty looking, space between fences.

No amount of cajoling would get him to go back the same route. I tried coaxing him through another hole, but he would have none of it. Neither biscuits nor squeaky toys were enough incentive. I finally gave up and began unscrewing two fence boards.

An hour after the ordeal began, he squibbed through the hole I'd created. I got him inside and went back to replace the boards as it began to rain.

All the futzing around and the scent of my sweat and dried blood on some rusty wire must've attracted Shyler the next morning. She dug a hole under the boards. And voila, pit bull on the porch.

Adorable wibber-woober face. Pit bulls have that wide mouth (when shut) that makes it look like they're smiling. Which is probably the first thing idiots like me think before they approach one without fear, and the last thing they think on the operating table when their nose is about to be reattached. "But it looked so haaaaaaaaapppppp...eeeeeee....eee"

So far I've escaped a traffic ticket and facial reconstruction since traveling to Houston.

EXCELLENT.

Between the excitement, I've managed to help mom hang two sets of curtains (only one more to go!), mail some bills, set up an appointment (Thurs am) at the Mazda dealership for the check engine light issue and air conditioner leak, watch a lot of movies, sleep in, and eat delicious only-in-Texas nibs (Bluebell ice cream, Whataburger, and Fajita Willie's -- they must marinate their beef in heaven, I swear). I still have a whole list of places I want to hit: Murphy's Deli, Taco Cabana (great beef nachos), Jack in the Box, and kolaches (pronounced: Ko-La-cheese) from any donut store locally. Kolaches hail from German immigrants in Texas (Fredricksburg, etc).

They're sausages (kinda like Li'l Smokies) wrapped up and baked in sweet dough. Of course, I always get mine with cheese. Dems SO GOOD for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.

If you can't find them where you live, try this for a substitute version (like I do in Kentucky): Use King Hawaiian sweet bread bakery biscuits, slice open and place a Lil' Smokie and a small slice of Velveeta inside. Microwave until contents are warm/hot and cheese is melty.

And if you've never tried King Hawaiian bread, you're missing out. I can eat a whole round loaf by itself, just pulling off pieces for snacking. But if you put a slice in the toaster and spread on a dab of butter...Good lord.

Dammit I'm hungry (only for that) now. Even though we bought everything under the sun at Wal-Mart today. We've got hero sandwich goodies, homemade pizza ingredients, four kinds of ice cream, valentine's cupcakes, chocolate cheesecake, green grapes, pretzels, tortilla chips, cheese and sausage, English muffins, breakfast burritos, and from last week, baked chicken and veggie pizza.

Oddly (and wonderfully), I've been eating less than usual since being here. We're so busy doing this and that. But I know I'm missing some great shit on TiVo. I can confirm that there's a reason I lost interest in CSI: Whatever Fucking City a LONG time ago. Stupid! Moronic! Unrealistic! Annoying! But mom loves William Petersen. He's dreamy and McBloodSplattery.

If I could find a cross-stitch pattern with his visage at Hobby Lobby, I could talk her into buying it, but only if she had a coupon for 50% off. When it was already marked down for clearance 40%.

And while we're on the subject of death and money, when are the authorities gonna haul in Howard K. Stern for being present at two fatal overdoses? In a span of 5 months? And they need to do that paternity testing for Anna Nicole's baby already. C'mon, fuckers. There's gotta be a reason Anna never officially married Bloodsucker Meth man.

But I wonder: Where is Kimmie? Where is Bobby Trendy? WHERE IS THE LOVE?

Meanwhile, the TrimSpa president is backtracking and "concerned" (furiously embarrassed) that Anna had Slim Fast in the fridge in the Bahamas. But really, don't we all? At least on some level, behind the yogurt and syringes in our mental Fridgedaires?

No one could pay me to drink the 4 cans of chocolate mocha I've got lodged in the back of my fridge dating to 2004 because they're too heavy to haul out to the dumpster with the trash.

Then again, how much are you offering?

Can I use a straw?

Sure, a syringe will work. Yes indeedy.