Roaring Corgi

Torture

Every year we head up to my parent's house to carve pumpkins for Halloween. It's a great idea because we don't have to have the mess at our house and it gives the pups a chance to play in my parent's yard, which is astronomically bigger than ours. I wonder what that's like to the dogs. It must seem like a national park to them, being that they're used to a five-by-five concrete slab with some half-dead potted plants.

For some background, my parent's have two GIGANTIC dogs. They are Russian WOlfhounds, named Cosmo and Quinn.

Whenever we are going to my parent's house we make it an event. For at least a week ahead my husband and I like to say things like, "Do you wanna see Cosmo?" and, "Quinn! Come here Quinn!" What this actually does is cause the dogs to go retarded. Their little fuzzy heads cock so far to one side that I am sure they have neck pains for days after. Their tails (or butts, in Roxy's tail-less case) go bananas wiggling around and the crying starts up and ends in a ridiculous display of jumping at our faces with kisses.

They are in affect saying, "PLEASE OMG PLEASE YES LET'S SEE COSMO AND QUINN OMG MY FAVORITE."

It's torture for them because alas, we do not go see them right away but we get to giggle at their desperate eyes. The only thing that lets them forget what we were just talking about is to trump it with, "Who wants a cookie?"

If having kids will allow me this much pleasure in torture, then sign me up.

My feet? They might kill me!

Crazy Dog has this terribly annoying habit of licking his feet incessantly. I am well aware of the fact that he does this because he has some irrational need to channel his nervous energy into some sort of action. It’s like a person that constantly picks at their pimples or bites their nails. It’s really disgusting. For a lot of reasons.

His breath is so foul from his own butt-licking habit (that’s a fodder for a post of its own) that his feet end up smelling like his anus and that is just not pleasant. It’s also gross because around our house there is this continuous licking/slurping sound emanating from wherever he is at the moment. And at any given time, my husband, me, or both of us is shouting, “STOP LICKING YOUR FEET!”

Oh he knows what that means. Because he stops. And then walks to where we cant see him, like behind the couch or in the hallway, flops down again and resumes his licking. In fact, its to the point where if we don’t see him in the room we’re in we know he’s either on our bed (which he knows he isn’t supposed to do, and we know he knows because he jumps down from the bed when he hears us getting closer so he isn’t actually caught on the bed even though we can feel a warm spot where he was napping like an ass), or he’s licking his feet in a corner somewhere.

 In exasperation I mentioned the idea of using our shock collar on him to try to get him to stop. And yes we have a shock collar, which was purchased in an attempt to stop the barking that was making our neighbors hate us and instead the dogs just learned not to bark when the collar was on, and you can’t leave it on, it even says so on the package, but even if you wanted to, it’s so huge that it makes cuddling impossible. And NO ONE takes away my Crazy Dog cuddle privileges.

But because of Crazy Dog’s bizarre level of fear of most everything around him, I am afraid to implement my shock strategy. The likely scenario is that he will then be terrified of his own feet.  Already, if you blow on his fur he turns into a raging, rabid raccoon – no really, fluffy tail and all. So I cant even IMAGINE what would happen if he thought every time he licked his own feet, a jolt of electric mayhem went through his neck.

He would probably stop walking….which would solve the sneaking into our bedroom to nap on our bed issue…

A solution to the economic crisis - believe me, this applies to my blog

A solution we can be proud of. And well, because it's a Friday. And I won't lie, I'm a little high on cold medicine.

See more Natalie Portman videos at Funny or Die

Headliner: Roxy The Great

Come one, come all! See Roxy fly through the air and accomplish her greatest feat – the ring of fire!
Because I swear she would leap through a hoop of fire if there was a flying insect on the other side. Or a shiny object. ADD much? What? Exactly.

I’m sitting on my couch the other day with the sliding door to our carpet-square-sized “backyard” open, but I have the screen door pulled almost shut. Except enough room for a dog-sized creature to fit through. Our doggie door from our last place doesn’t fit, and because I am tired of buying new things to fit places we rent that just need to be replaced at the next location, I haven’t gone out and replaced the old doggie door. So we deal with the bugs that come through the open slider. Heck, we have live-in bug catchers anyway. If I shut Roxy in a room with a bunch of flies, she would entertain herself all day.

So I’m sitting on the couch while Roxy goes in and out the open area to the backyard, like she has done many many times before. I happen to look up just as she comes through again and realize omg, she just came through the screen door part. She just burst through the screen part, ripping it from the screen door frame, and she DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE IT. She just looked at me like what? And went back out the open part. Like in her mind she decided okay I need to go back inside and check on my humans and then just ran through the closest section? And it had a screen but oh well?

If Crazy Dog had tried to come through it and then it touched his skin he would have been like OMG THE SCREEN TOUCHED ME IT WILL KILL ME AND THEN I’LL DIE. When we first moved here he tried to run back inside, misjudged and slammed his face right into the glass door and then? He wouldn’t go outside for WEEKS. Because that scary glass door monster was lurking out there ready to eat his flesh while he watches in agony. I’m pretty sure he thinks this about most things, because when he glances at things like a fan, a trash can, or a potted plant, the fear that hits his eyes is almost sad. Almost. Mostly we laugh and point fingers at him.

Thank you so much for shopping with us, now please suck it

I hate Jennifer Convertibles. I will likely never make a purchase at that store again. Here are my basic reasons:

1. The couches are cheap pieces of crap
2. The sales people went to sales school at the University of We Don't Really Care About You or What You Need Today or Ever
3. Their warranty

I'd like to expound on #3 for a moment. Bear with me while I degenerate into someone who would giggle over seeing a a giant torpedo of slime and biting insects launched from a cannon into this store. I mean look at those happy people with that dog on their couch. I want to tell them hey people, you will regret your purchase for 3 reasons, please read above.

My leather couches are cracking and flaking after about 4 years of ownership. I guess i am glad that the cow that once was my couch didn't have to deal with this leather for its entire life. Can't you see it? Running around in the pasture with its skin flaking off and all the other little cows making fun of it?

So my psoriasis-laden couch is covered under warranty. Whew right? Well when I called Jennifer and her team of not-so-helpful helpers, they asked for my order number to look up my account. I bought these in 2004, so I definitely didn't tattoo that number on my heart a la Jordin Sparks so I would know it here in 2008 almost 2009. So I said, "man, I don't know that. Can you look it up by my name?"

Latoya (the rep I was speaking to) said, "What is your phone number?" (Again people, 4 years ago I had a different cell... I tend not to remember numbers I don't use for over FOUR YEARS). I said, "shoot, I don't know that either but let's try my current one in case."

No dice. Latoya says, "No." I say, "Okay well can you look it up by na--"
Latoya: "No I need your phone number and you didn't have the phone number it's under you need to call your local store and ask them to give you your order number and call us back."
Me: "I called them first actually and they sent me to you--" (she is cutting me off every time)
Latoya: "I can't look it up then."
Me: "Can you just try a new number that I --"
Latoya: "Ma'am. No. I CAN NOT look it up under the information you gave me you need to call your local store and ask them to give you your order number and call us back."
Me (now pissed, as you can imagine I would be): "Okay, wait pleas co not keep talking over --"
Latoya: "You will need to call your --"
Me: "Latoya, please STOP talking over me for one second. Is there someone else I can talk to?"
Latoya: "If you want to talk to someone else you will need to hang up and call us back. I keep TRYING to tell you I can't look it up."

So I hung up on her. Not before threatening to file a complaint. I know. It was so juvenile. But then again, I think she was just aching for it.

So I called back and guess the heck what? They looked me up by my NAME AND OLD ADDRESS.

Wasn't so hard right? Latoya needs a hug I think. Or maybe a bunny let loose in her cubicle.

And I shall call him John McCain

If you have been any part of my daily life for the past several weeks you have heard about the rabbit that has plagued my doorstep. It’s not a useful metaphor. It has literally pooped and peed on my door mat and stoop every night.

And seriously? What the FREAK does that thing eat? It poops enough each night for me to take all the little poop pellets, mash them together into one large poop pellet, and then carefully carve a rabbit likeness out of it. Life size. And it does it all once. Is that because it knows how much I loathe it and it needs to evacuate its bowels and scram? I’m almost jealous of that animal and how it’s able to release all at once. What a convenient adaptation.

The rabbit belongs (well, belonged, but we’ll get there) to my neighbors. They first had two little pet store bunnies that they would let out in the afternoon to roam around and eat grass and other flora, until the bunny decided HELL NO am I going back into that cage. It took the rabbit about three days to figure that out. So, then, we had two rabbits who apparently loved to use our door area as latrine. Fine. So I tell the neighbors. In broken Spanish – please take your rabbit back. It is POOPING AT MY DOOR.

And the dogs are eating it. And then licking my husband’s face. And that? I can’t tolerate that.

They agreed to catch it each time I asked, which totaled somewhere around 400 times. My co-worker happens to have a wild rabbit trap, which I borrowed and used to trap that jerk bunny. It fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Didn’t take but one night to find him caught in there. No worries – it is humane. We just wanted to either give him away or release him elsewhere.

When I saw him in there this morning in all his cuteness, I tried to pet his little once-tame paw. HE ATTACKED THE CAGE BARS. He almost killed me. It was so ungrateful. Here I was, ready to release him into bunny heaven somewhere, dispatched in some way or another, and HE ATTACKS ME. Then after a day without food and water (serves him right), we offered a bowl of water with a carrot in it, and HE PICKS UP THE BOWL IN HIS BUNNY TEETH AND THROWS it across the cage.

He looked at me through the cage bars and glared. In his little bunny mind I just know he was thinking, “I will not drink your water you filth! It’s probably poisoned anyway!”

In this way, we decided to name him John McCain. Because that little martyr was obviously a P.O.W.

For good measure he threw that water bowl one more time.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, there is a bunny I need to waterboard.

*That little black bunny in the picture is a spitting image of the one I'm writing about. So cute right? Almost cute enough to want to save him.... Almost.

OMG I'm SUCH a good debater!

Question: Sarah Palin, what may I ask you is your plan for this financial crisis we are in?

Answer: Well crap, that's not on my cue card. I will consult my flowchart:

 

My husband found this flow chart online and, besides almost dying from laughing at how accurate it was, I instantly wanted a shirt with it.

Holy crap, now I can have one!