Wordless Wednesday: What? I Am Just Resting on This Pillow

It Wouldn't Be A Vacation If There Wasn't A Dog to Save

We were getting ready for our family vacation at the cottage at the lake.  Jersey was looking forward to it as we all know she loves the lake. Nevada wasn't sure what a lake was, but if Jersey likes it, she was all in.

We were supposed to go at the Fourth of July, but I had a trial that did not settle until the last minute. One vacation ruined.  This was the last time before fall sets in that we, meaning Jersey (and possibly Nevada), could get some swimming in.  So I took Thursday off to do last minute things like laundry, fix my tire, sleep in.  We were set to leave at 3:30.

Then B called me at 9.  He found a dog.  He told me I needed to find a home for it because he was a very sweet, lovable dog that he refused to take to the shelter. Sound familiar? That is how we described Nevada.

Anyway, since Nevada, I have been trolling around rescue sites and knew very well that I would never surrender a dog to the local pound, as it would probably not make it out alive unless adopted.  So I started networking and networking.

B sent me this picture:

Aren't I a pretty boy? Or should it be handsome?

How could I not want to save that face?  He looked a bit like Jersey. Then there was this picture:

And a good boy!

What a sweetie! So I started putting those two pictures on Facebook everywhere. Even my friends were reposting it.

Then B sent this one:

And a silly boy!

Blurry, but look at that sideways tongue.  How about this one:

And a goofy boy!

Yes he is upside down on someone's foot.

Most no kill shelters and rescues were full.  One awesome rescue stepped up and tried to find a babysitter for at least the time we were gone if we would foster him when we got back. They offered to pay for food, vetting, and anything else we would need including training.  

The problem was finding a babysitter.

We called in reinforcements - my brother. You may remember him from staying with Nevada for a week right after we got her because we were going to Europe. Why do these things always happen at the most inopportune times?

B took the dog for a groom and then brought him home before taking him to the vet for a check up.  First, he was LARGE.  80 lbs it turns out.  Double the size of our dogs.  In fact, our immediate neighbor came out and exclaimed, "Your dog got BIG." Um, she had just seen Jersey the day before. Those are some fast acting steroids.

Second, he was just as sweet in person:

I just want to be petted.

I named him Davison after the street that he was found by. Then during the 40 minutes I spent with him outside which mainly consisted of him flopping down on the ground next to me, rolling over, and staring into my eyes as I scratched his ears and rubbed his belly, I named him Romeo.

We introduced him to Jersey and Nevada.  Nevada decided to show her affection in a naughty way. *Ahem* oral slut *Ahem*.  Romeo wasn't neutered and he thought he would repay her with some affection of his own. Then we separated them. However, he did not mind any dogs, big or small, or even our cats that he accidentally met.

Just as my brother was on his way over, we heard from a neighbor who read about Romeo on Facebook and offered to watch him. By the time she came over to meet him, the "watching" was turning into "perhaps keeping him."  Turns out they were looking for a friend for their dog and Romeo was the right age and size.  She left with him, but not before I took this picture:

And sit pretty.

I am happy to report that Romeo, now named Gus, did great that night in his new home. The neighbors took him to be neutered and it was determined that he had heartworms. They are paying for that treatment and the vet expects him to make a full recovery.

Davison/Romeo/Gus stole everyone's hearts and B and I were so happy he found a home. We checked on him via Facebook all weekend. He even stole my brother's heart who insists that Gus will "always be Jake" to him.

Happy Tails, Gus!  

*B affectionately called this my first rescue. I think our execution needs a little help. My parents are just glad we didn't decide to add him to our brood.

I Don't Care Who Died on What Cross, I Just Need Some Cash!

With today being Good Friday and all, B and I decided to go for fish and chips like good nonpracticing Catholics (and at least one of us not at all Catholic). This required cash because the place only accepts cash. Seriously. We were there today and the guy in front of us tried to charge his dinner. The cashier laughed at him. He thought it was a joke and then realized it wasn't and she was laughing AT him.  He then realized he had to leave and find an ATM in a rather rough side of town. Definitely no joke there.  Oh, but they do take checks. CHECKS! Who carries those anymore? The guy looked at her like she said they take blood samples as payment.

Anyway, I headed off to an ATM in a good neighborhood (yay to planning ahead) after I left the office.  Just as I pulled my card from the machine and turned around, an older lady in her 80s came in:

Lady: Is the credit union CLOSED?

As I turned toward the totally dark and obviously closed bank, I say:

Me: Yes, it appears that it is.

Lady: WHY?

Me: Good Friday?

Lady: What?

Lady: There is not even a sign posted.

Me: It is right there. 

I point to a large sign that says the credit union will be closed all day in observance of Good Friday.

Lady: Wait! It has been closed ALL DAY?

Me: I have no idea.

As I leave, I hear her muttering "That is just STUPID." She then walks in the rain to her car, gets in and THEN proceeds to put on a plastic hair protector.  As she is tying it under her chin, another car pulls up and a woman gets out.  The old lady rolls down her window and yells:

"IT IS CLOSED. THE CREDIT UNION IS CLOSED AND HAS BEEN ALL DAY. DON'T BOTHER!"

She may have also muttered something about Good Friday.  New lady says "I'm just here for the ATM..."

Interesting.  So was I. It seems the only person that wasn't was the older lady. Is she against the ATM? Does she not know how they work? What is is that she needs done by a teller that she cannot do herself at an ATM?

Maybe the old lady should go to the fish place. She would feel right at home at a place that only does actual cash transactions and nothing with those "newfangled" ATM things. I can just picture her walking in, seeing the long line and exclaiming "Is there a LINE? WHY? What does Good Friday have to do with FISH? ...stupid..."

Happy Easter!

From Jersey to Nevada and No Points In Between: The Tale of the Woeful Dog That Stole Our Hearts

It happened last Wednesday as I was sitting in my office.  Taking a glance at Facebook, I saw a post from a girl I went to high school with.  She posted a picture of a dog that she found on her porch when she opened her door.

The first thing that struck me was how much it looked like Jersey. The second thing was that it had a rope around its neck that looks like it was chewed.  The third, and saddest, thing was that I could see all of its ribs.  My heart broke and then grew three times its size like in The Grinch.

My friend's friends all discouraged her from finding the owner since the pup was so neglected and encouraged her to keep it since it made its way to her home. She said it was very loving and playful. Also, it never left her porch even when she had to leave to pick up her kids.  She also found that it was immediately protectful of her house.

However, she could not keep it.

I quickly emailed the picture to B and he told me that we could take it before it would go back to its owner.  His heart had grown as well.

In the end, no one claimed the dog, no service would come get the dog, and I got an urgent message from my friend asking me to come get it. And so I did.  I drove to a rather rough part of the city to pick up a dog I knew nothing about.  She was laying on the porch when I got there.

She immediately jumped up, wagged her tail and ran over to me.  We coaxed her in the car and off we went.

Driving home was a trip.  This was not a trained dog and she tried to climb behind me, on me, in front of me, and spent a hell of a long time licking my face.

Once we got home, I made her a bed in the garage as we needed to get her to the vet before she could come into the house.  She was so loving and playful and grateful. I fed her a bit and you could tell she was starving which hurt my heart even more.  B texted me often with updates as he was working that night.  He requested I send him a picture to see what she really looked like, but it was hard since she was constantly climbing on me. Finally, exhausted she laid down for a moment and I captured one:

She immediately became protective of our house barking when strange voices were around, but generally quiet after that. When B came home that night, she ran up to him, tail wagging and full of kisses.

The next day she went to the vet and got a clean bill of health and some shots.  She is about 6-8 months old and about 10 lbs underweight.  She weighed in at a light 32.5 lbs. The vet thought she was a shepherd boxer mix, but who knows.  After that trip, B introduced her to Jersey and that was two of the happiest dogs I have ever seen.

She has since made her way into the house and is making herself right at home.

Although she has not been trained, she is very loving and learns rather quickly.  Mostly.  B and I have had to put on our puppy training hats.  It seems like such a long time ago I had to make sure to let a puppy out every couple of hours to prevent accidents.  However, she sleeps through the night with no accidents and mostly leaves the cats alone.  She is a keeper.

In keeping with tradition, we named her after the street on which she was found, Nevada. Technically it was not the exact street, but one right close by.  The thought was we could call her Neve for short, but it turns out we typically use her full name. I think she is starting to figure it out.

As of yesterday, she was up to 37 pounds and her coat is looking better. She has a lot of energy for a dog that was so lacking and we think she is a great addition to our family.

Welcome home, Nevada.

TV Review: Hung "Tucson is the Gateway to the D" a/k/a "This is Not Sexy"

My review from last night's episode of Hung is up at Daemon's TV. Check it out!  Did you watch it? If so, come join commenter Natalie and I as we discuss it.

If you didn't watch it, what are you waiting for?

Special Breakthrough Post: Check Out My Review of This Week's Episode of Pretty Little Liars

I have another guest review up at Daemon's TV for this week's episode of Pretty Little Liars. I am really loving this show! It is on at 8:00 p.m. on ABC Family and this was only the third episode of the entire show, so you still have time to watch it and catch up. Join me, won't you? I promise you will like it.

Read my review here.

Now back to our regularly scheduled posting...

Pay It Forward 2: Giving Cupcakes is Fun and Again, No One Dies

In keeping with my recent Starbucks Pay It Forward Experience, I once again tried to do good and share with others. Again, this was also a result of fate. You see, there is this spot at the top of the off ramp on the freeway by our house where there is always a homeless person sitting there with a sign that says "please help. homeless and hungry." Do you know how bad you can feel, especially in the summer, when you are sitting in your nice air-conditioned car waiting at the stop light and someone is hot and hungry right next to you? Well, you can feel like a jackass.

The thing is, I rarely have any food in my car. Heck, I rarely have anything to drink either. So I never have anything to offer. B has gone and given leftover holiday food and other items to the guy before but I have never had the opportunity.

Until the other day.

It was a Friday and I was driving home from work with a paper plate full of wonderfully delicious carrot cupcakes that a coworker had brought in just for me. While stopped at the light, it suddenly dawned on me that I had something to give! So I rolled down my window and held out a cupcake. The guy immediately ran over and when he saw it was a cupcake, his eyes just lit up. I told him it was my birthday (yes useless information) and that I wanted to share my cupcakes with him. He graciously wished me a happy birthday and ran back to his place to eat his cupcake with a huge grin on his face.

And I felt good.

Sure it probably didn't cure his hunger. Sure it wasn't the healthiest thing. But it was food; fun food and probably something he didn't get very often. Hell, at that point I wouldn't have cared if he was conning me* and wasn't really homeless.

Everyone deserves a cupcake.

*My Mom, upon hearing this story, cautioned me on being conned and putting myself in danger by rolling down my window for a strange guy and that I could have been killed. All very valid points, but I try to keep at least a small semblance of faith in the human race and try to exercise caution with every action. Everyone deserves a cupcake!

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Shreds a Finger

Last week I was having problems with my assistant. She wasn't assisting me. At all. Not only that, but what she was doing reached new heights of problematic so I took it up with my HR guy. Later, my colleague reported that my assistant was in there talking to the HR guy:

J: Sounds like HR guy is having a meeting with your assistant.

Me: I was wondering. Can you hear them?

J: Not really. Sometimes I can. It cuts in and out. I could definitely tell that it was her talking about the things you emailed her. *

Me: Oh good. I hope she doesn't plan on killing me later.

J: Ha. Ha.

Me: It's all fun and games until someone has a weapon.

J: Go and take her scissors out of her desk. Although I guess she could always try to stab you with a pencil.

Me: Great! I have already suffered one scissor injury already. Another one would just make this week PERFECT.

Yes, I had already been cut with scissors. The night before. By my HUSBAND. You see, my mother decided to gift me with these scissors that I guess would be called shredding scissors. They have many blades and can shred documents. Although not credit cards. Trust. I have the injury to prove it.

B was very eager to test out these new scissors and I insisted they could cut up credit cards. In fact, I was going to hand him one to cut up RIGHT THEN. So I leaned over with the card and B totally cut my finger. I immediately screamed "LOOK WHAT YOU DID" to which he responded "it is so deep it is not even bleeding yet." Nice.

Then it started bleeding. Yes, I thought I might have to get stitches. No, I did not. Yes, I had to beg B to help me put a band aid on it despite the fact that he is the one that injured me. So he slapped some Neosporin on it and declared "It will be healed in 5 days. That is what the tube said." For the record, there is a scar.

And I still have that damn credit card.**

*Apparently my assistant did not like my helpful emails pointing out her problematic assisting.

**But I don't have that assistant anymore.

***I win.

It is Like the Movie Pay It Forward But No One Dies. I Think.

Hopefully I didn't ruin that movie for you. But, really? It came out in 2000. That is 10 years ago. a decade, if you will. If I cannot talk about the plot or twists of a movie that came out a decade ago, there is something wrong. Also, if you have not seen the movie yet, you probably will not. Reminds me of people that still won't say what the twist is in The Sixth Sense. Hell, that one came out the year before. Who are these people that do not see these movies?

Hi, Mom!

So I am going to go out on a limb in here and say I didn't ruin anything for anyone. But even if I did, it was for a good cause. Or about a good cause. Or just good. You choose.

The premise of Pay It Forward for those of you who saw it, well really for those of you that haven't, was for each person to do something kind and selfless for someone else who would in turn pay it forward. Get it? So clever with the title. Since then, I have heard a lot of stories about things like that happening, usually in fast food drive thrus, coffee houses, etc. I have never had it happen to me.

Until a few weeks ago, that is.

I was on my usual early morning kick to get my usual Starbucks drink. Seriously, even though I go through the drive thru, they know me. One time the drink orderer put in the wrong size but when I pulled up to the window, the guy said "Don't worry, we made the right size." Starbucks has serious talent. Someone should do a study as to how they get such great people working there.

Anyhow, I pulled up, slipped my card out of the window to pay and was greeted by my usual guy who, much to my surprise said:

Guy: Venti Chai?

Me: Yep.

Guy: It has already been paid.

Guy: The girl in front of you paid for yours.

Guy: She said she just wanted to do something nice for someone today.

Guy: ...

Guy: Are you okay?

There I sat with my card hanging out of my window and I think a bit slack jawed. After a brief moment I said "Yes, I am okay. Here, pay for the person behind me." After he made sure I was serious, he swiped my card and handed me my drink. As I left I said "make sure to tell the person behind me the same thing."

Mind you, at that moment in time I had no idea who was behind me, how many people were in the car, how many drinks had been ordered or what I had just agreed to pay. Regardless, I felt elated as I drove off. Someone who didn't know me, bought me a drink. And I did the same for someone else.

I wish I knew more about this woman. Heck, I don't even remember her car. I could not even tell you on any given day what kind of car or people are right behind me or right in front of me. But I do remember how great that feeling was and I know that I will continue to pay it forward every chance I get.

Random acts of kindness rock. Go get yourself one!

And get yourself a Venti nonfat, extra hot, Chai latte. Those things are yummy.

It Really Isn't Easter Until You Have Insulted the Easter Bunny in a Passive-Aggressive Letter

Good things happen when computers break. It is true, just ask my Mom. Her computer broke about a month ago and it took about a week to fix. She said she would be okay. She was wrong. Toward the end of the week she started cleaning! Cleaning! I told the computer guy to put a rush on her computer. He got it to me the next day.

Good things come when your Mom's computer is broken and she starts cleaning. What good things? Oh maybe letters you wrote as a kid that she dug up from some old trunk in the garage that until that moment in time was mainly used as an indicator that your car was up as far as it could go. The trunk is kind of dented.

Good things come in letters written by children. Especially letters to the Easter Bunny. Do children even write letters to the Easter Bunny? Where do you send it? I need answers! I should have answers because as you can see below I wrote one myself. Wherever it was supposed to be sent, it obviously just went to my Mom. I don't mean to ruin the surprise, but I am pretty sure she was the Easter Bunny. Don't tell the children.

I would like to say I was very young when I wrote this. However, I signed my name in cursive. Also? It is quite deep for a child. Peruse for yourself:

In case you cannot read that clearly, it says:

Dear Easter Bunny,
I, Yesterday watched: the Easter Bunny is coming to town. It was cute, but some of it was scary. Have a Happy Easter. You know what Easter is really when Jesus died on the cross, not really eggs and other stuff like jelly beans and things. I think you shouldn't even come to kids houses because you know it's really to think about Jesus and when he died. But it's still fun having you.






And the second page...

My bedroom is a MESS. I still want you to come. I LOVE YOU.

Danielle

That, my friends, is the very definition of Catholic guilt. When your religious side clashes with your secular side at such a young age, there is nothing to do than to try to rectify it by insulting the Easter Bunny while inviting him into your messy bedroom. Just like the Catholic church. Or dating.

So, with that, I hope that the Easter Bunny visited your house, messy or not, and brought eggs and jelly beans and all that "stuff." Or, if you are religious, I hope you thought a lot about Jesus and his death.

But I hope he didn't visit your house literally. That would have the makings of a bad horror flick.*

*Is there such a thing as religious horror genre for films like a religious porn genre?**

**Wait. Is there a religious porn genre? Don't tell me if there is. I liked it better when I didn't know the answer.

Sometimes I Can Only Process One Thing in My Brain. That Makes it Monotastic Time!

One week ago I had a trial. It lasted two and a half days. I spent a week and a half preparing for it. All I could think about that entire time and almost through today, a week later, were the details of the trial. Seriously.

I know every date that woman had treatment. Every doctor with whom she treated. The dates she received care by friends. The dates she missed work. Her alleged injuries. The name of her children.

But that is all I know.

My brain, although I would like to think it is quite large, when it goes into trial function, can only process one subject - TRIAL. In fact, my response to almost everything was screaming "I AM IN TRIAL." It didn't matter what the question was:

"We need to talk about refinancing" : I AM IN TRIAL!

"What kind of new car do you want?" : I AM IN TRIAL!

"Are you going to eat that?" : I AM IN TRIAL!

Special shout out to B who put up with me for those two weeks. I am sure it wasn't easy. Also, a special shout out to Jersey who was quite distracting when I needed it most.

Anyway, I am here to say that now I have put it all behind me and I am ready to use sentences that do not involve the words "trial," "objection," "your honor," and "assholes." Okay, maybe not that last one.

Trial is exhausting.

Tonight while driving home, I stopped at a light and saw a man on the corner with headphones on - dancing away. Actually, he was putting on quite a show for those watching. Huge smile. Crazy moves. Seriously a cross between rap and the robot? Anyway, he made me smile. In fact, he was in the exact spot that the guy told B that he was just "singing a song." This guy was just dancing a dance.

And it reminded me of a conversation earlier today when a colleague asked if I ever wished I was doing something else with my life. Something creative. I told him that I thought about that a lot. Lawyering is exhausting, frustrating and time consuming.

And tonight? Tonight I wanted to be that man on the corner, just dancing a dance with the hugest smile ever. No obvious cares.

Lord knows I shouldn't sing in public.

Dear B: You Need to Learn to Be a Better Wingman

When I was on the dating scene I had the best wingman. Actually I had a few. We knew what our jobs were as wingmen - RESCUE, RESCUE, RESCUE. This could be in the form of redirecting the attacker, redirecting the situation, taking one for the team, making introductions, etc. You name it, we did it.

WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER.

Now, I am married and I have a built in wingman. Isn't that what a life partner is supposed to do? Support their spouse? Be their backup? I thought so as well. I am here to tell you, however, my wingman is missing a wing or two.

It all started when I somehow became part of the committee to plan my 20 year high school reunion.* I am not entirely sure how this happened other than I responded in a Facebook thread something like "let me know if you need anything" and now I am on a committee of four and responsible for one fourth of the down payment for the hall? Well, then.

Anyhow, the "committee" decided they needed to meet in person to get things rolling. It turns out that the head girl lives just two blocks from me. It also turned out that they wanted to have the meeting at a favorite restaurant of B's.

Perfect.

The Plan

B and I would go have dinner at the restaurant an hour before the meeting was to take place. He would then leave me at the meeting and the girl that lived a couple blocks away would drive me home. I told him to be near his phone in case I needed a rescue. You know, like a wingman.

Perfect.

The Problem

I didn't tell anyone but B about this plan. Therefore, the girl that lived nearby had no clue that I was relying upon her to get me home.

Second problem - two of the four were stay at home moms who hit the jackpot with this meeting in that they could stay out late and drink. Me? I had court in the morning. So as the "meeting" dragged on through multiple glasses of wine and on to coffees with Bailey's, I started to get worried that I would never make it home.

When the head girl decided she was going to read off all 223 names of the people we graduated with to see if we remembered them, the third girl smartly ran off because she had to work in the morning. She was too quick for me. Plus she lived in an entirely different direction.

The Solution

My wingman will save me, I thought. I covertly texted B:

"Can you please come get me?"

This was at 10 pm. The "meeting" started at 7 pm. The coffees were ordered at 10:30. My phone remained silent despite my checking it for messages every 2.3 seconds.

The Result

Over one hour after the original text, B calls. I answer it at the table speaking in code:

B: Why didn't you call me?

Me: Because.

B: I would have came right away.

Me: Can you assist at all?

B: Give me five minutes.

I spent the next 15 trying to figure out how to extract myself from the situation** without being obvious.

I then spent the next 10 minutes berating B's wingman skills. B did make some valuable suggestions such as:

"Why didn't you just tell them you were supposed to call me at X time to pick you up and then call you?"

It was obvious that I was trapped and in unnatural surroundings. The exhuastion of having to pretend I vividly remembered 222 other people, every teacher we ever had, and the last school play took all of my brain cells. B is lucky I remembered his number. Well, actually I am lucky. Also, side note, B does not know my phone number. At all. Wrap your brain around that for a minute.

Anyhow, it's official. B is no wingman. That is why next time I am sending him to the committee meeting as my proxy.

Bet he learns my number after that.

*Damn that makes me sound old!

**Everytime I hear "the situation" in any situation, I think of the Jersey Shore. Damn you MTV with your mindless brainwashing.

Who's Running Who?

I just fed the cats upstairs in my office while walking on tiptoe so as to not wake the dog. Jersey now runs my life.

Vicky has been notified.

Of Course I Meant to Put That There...

B likes to think he is much more organized than I am. Having seen my magazine stash, and the messiness of my home office, you may agree. However, I typically can find anything I need. B, on the other hand, well...

B: Where is the cat brush?

Me: I don't know. Where did you put it?

B: Somewhere I wouldn't forget.

Me: Obviously.

Me: Check the shelf.

B: Not there.

Me: Check the drawer.

B: Not there.

Me: And you call me unorganized.

B: I could find if I needed to.

Me: Um, aren't you kind of needing to now?

B never did find the cat brush. I did. Know where I found it? On the floor of the spare room BEHIND a box BEHIND our entertainment center.

Clearly, somewhere he would not forget.

A Deal is Made and No One is The Wiser

No one was around when the stranger quietly approached me with an earnest look on her face:

Girl: Do you have any extra?

Me: I may have a few. How many do you need? One, two...?

I was hoping it wasn't more than that. I was very protective of my stash.

Girl: Just one.

Girl: I can't get my hands on any.

Me: What value do you have there?

Girl: Seventeen.

Me: I have just what you need.

Girl: Are you sure?

Me: Trust me.

With a slight flick of my wrist, a transfer was made. I commented about how it seemed so shady. We were whispering after all. She laughed heartily and said "I won't tell, if you don't."

I then steered my cart toward the bakeware while I pondered how many 20% off coupons I would need for my purchase.

Crime Watch Wednesday: Take a Bite Out of This!

This week's crime watch chronicles bring us the tale of the utility worker who couldn't run fast enough:

A utility worker was bitten by a large dog while performing his job. The worker was approached by the dog in the driveway of a home. When the dog didn't like the worker's reason for being there, he bit him. The owner of the house, home at the time, refused to respond to the worker's screams for help. Luckily a nearby neighbor came to the rescue with peroxide and a bandage. Sadly, the neighbor did not have a rabies kit nearby. When questioned by the police, the homeowner claimed that it was not his dog and he did not believe the dog had actually bit the man and the dog was on a leash at the time. The police witnessed two puncture wounds on the worker. The police also noted that the dog was on a very long leash that allowed the dog to walk down the driveway and approach those in the neighborhood. Charges are pending against the dog for assault and battery and against the homeowner for being a bad neighbor.

Hmm...maybe I made that last part up? The point is, your dog, or the dog you were watching, BIT someone. The dog punctured the man's skin while roaming on its very long leash down the driveway. The least you could do is offer some assistance to the man. I know you are afraid of being sued, but pretending it didn't happen isn't going to make it go away.

When I was a young teen we had a crazy dog aptly named Bandit*. This dog was NUTS. She would climb, not jump, but CLIMB our chain link fence to get out and run the neighborhood. Her favorite things to do? Chase cars. And not just like in the cartoons. She would chase a car, get IN FRONT OF IT, make it stop and try to bite its bumper. I cannot tell you how many times in my life I spent chasing that dog. In a car. That's right. She would only come back to you if you drove by, she chased you, stopped you, you opened your door and then she jumped in happy as a clam.** Despite her insanity, she loved everyone (except the Rottweilers across the street and small kittens or puppies) and never bit anyone.

Until she bit someone, that is.

At that time Bandit was older and couldn't really jump or climb the fence. She really didn't have the energy to chase cars either. Thus, she was able to spend more time in the backyard without our fearing we would need to grab our car keys at any minute. There was a young boy next door that would pet her and talk to her and she would lick him. One day, we decided to put Bandit on a leash in the front yard while we were on the porch. Like the owner above, it was rather a long leash but it did not extend past our front grass. At the time, I was on the porch. The young boy from next door ran past Bandit and screamed a little "you can't catch me" song and Bandit caught him. And bit him. She was old and cranky.

Now, unlike the guy above, I did not deny what happened. I jumped up, made sure the boy was okay (he had a scratch and no puncture wounds), went and got his mom and explained what happened and apologized. All was well. We did not get sued, Bandit's leash got shorter, and our neighbors still liked us.

Lesson: Apologies, peroxide and a bandage go a long way.

Denial fools no one but yourself.***

*When my Dad first told me we were getting a dog, I wanted to name her Scruffles. I was 13. Too old to have thought that shit was cute. Lucky for Bandit, she looked like a bandit. Lucky for me too as I cannot imagine running through the neighborhood yelling SCRUFFLES.

**This was not good because Bandit would get into anyone's car that opened their door. One day I was chasing her and someone tried to take her. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just let them. They had no clue what they were getting into. RIP Bandit.

***I am so deep and profound. I also sound like a fortune cookie. One of those bad ones that tell you proverbs but not your FORTUNE. Grrr.

Sunday Smashup - Painting, Painting and Douchery

Painting

B sent me on an errand Friday. My mission, which I didn't really want to accept, but did so anyway since I had the day off work (4 day weekends need to become the new work thing ASAP), was to go to Home Depot and "Get a gallon of white paint. Just tell the guy at the store you need white paint for kitchen cupboards. It will probably be a semi gloss." Those were B's exact words. His only words.

That is what I did. I repeated those words to the guy who then asked me if I had a brand preference. I repeated the words in my head "Get a gallon of white paint." Nope, no brand name. I grabbed the cheaper of the two and proudly went home mission accomplished. On the way out the door, the security guard said to me "now no paint fight young lady." I laughed and laughed. Mostly because he called me a young lady as if I were 12. My youthful appearance knows no bounds.

Later when B came home and saw the paint that I made sure to point out to him in a very subtle way exclaiming "I did it! I went to the Depot and got the paint! Pat me on the back please!" he said:

"Oh, GLIDDEN???? UGH I HATE Glidden. It is so messy. Why didn't you get Behr?"

Then I dumped the paint over his head.

No, I did not. I offered to return the paint or exchange it, but B decided it would be just fine.

In other news, our entire kitchen will be white for now. I have no idea what else to do with it besides gut it and there are no funds for that right now.

Painting - Part Deux

Thank you all for your suggestions as to paint for the dining room. We took all of the choices (including those from anti-blog-commenting-peeps a/k/a my parents) and studied the top three picks very carefully before we went with #3:

Which we then went together to purchase at Home Depot wherein I encountered a VERY rude woman who stuck her big head over my shoulder and said "UGH. Orange?" I won't tell you what I thought, but it did involve rude thoughts and questions about her face. Anyhow, a couple of swipes on the wall for effect and to calm our anxiety that the paint might be a bit too orange (thank you big headed woman):

Although this next one is blurry, it more accurately shows the exact shade as it appears on our wall:

Fun Fact - one time B and I accidentally painted our bedroom orange. I had forgotten about it until we were in the parking lot of Home Depot looking at the paint. He said "I am scared it is going to be like that copper penny we had one time." Yep, not so much copper penny as it was ALL bright orange construction paper pumpkin. Man that room was scary!

We kept it for a few months anyhow.

Douche

One of my new things lately is to share every Jon Gosselin post on Google Reader with a note that simply says - "Douche." I think it says it all. In keeping with that theme, enjoy this video and song that I found thanks to Jonniker's blog:

And if you are like me and completely unaware, the girl on the right is an actress who was most recently in the remake of Last House on the Left which I saw last week and which was rather disturbing and awesome all at the same time. However, I do remember while viewing the movie that I thought she looked familiar. I am brilliant.

Pick Some Paint Please!

Remember when I posted our new dining room set and said we needed a new color? You should because it wasn't all that long ago. In fact, it was just a mere week or so ago. Some of you were kind enough to offer paint suggestions. Today, I went to Home Depot and picked up some swatches. Tell me what you think:

In order from left to right, #1:

#2:

#3:

#4:

#5:

#6:

#7:

Forgive my intruding fingers and the poor quality of some of these pictures. I was in a hurry. You may not know this, but there is a paint sale this weekend (apparently there is always a paint sale Labor Day weekend? I am so not in the know), so we have decided now is the time. We just need a color. That's where you come in, folks.

What say you?