Roaring Corgi

I have found it and therefore it is MINE

My brother and his partner, Laura, just got a new dog. A little girl border collie mix they are naming Dottie. At any rate when I was talking to them about this new dog and how she was settling in I related the story of Roxy joining our home when Crazy Dog was just a little only Crazy Dog; when his life was happy and full of butterflies before Roxy made him more crazy, more codger-y, and full of less butterflies.

I mentioned how when we first got her she basically marched into our house - all 6 pounds of her to Crazy Dog's 17 - and basically shouted to us all by the deliciously evil look she gave the toy box:

ALL THIS STUFF IS NOW MINE AND NOT YOURS.

Crazy Dog got the picture when she attacked his face for trying to take one of "his" toys from the toy box that now (duh) belonged to her, and didn't he get the memo? He did then. It's been mostly peaceful since then.

And that above photo? That was their first meeting when she was TINY OMG and he was all, oh here is this cool stick I'll pick up and she was all, HELL NO DOG! And ran her little hamster-sized body over to Crazy Dog and took it right from him. Websters, we should have known right then.

I was again reminded of this trait of hers - this very unlikable trait - when she found the bag of holiday gifts for the other canines in our family. She found this bag with dog toys meant for Quinn, Cosmo, and Eva, and her brain said only this:

ALL THIS STUFF IS NOW MINE AND NOT YOURS.

And then I took that picture. More here.

And after I took it from her and tried to move it back into the other room, she gave a snarl so vicious to Crazy Dog because, well, he should know he can't stand there and DARE TO THINK about that toy that is HERS.

Seriously, the best hiding place.

Yesterday the pups got to enjoy some Jumbonesfrom my in-laws' box of goodies that was sent to us in the mail. Roxy takes hers and has it consumed within 10 minutes. Crazy Dog has this inane series of steps he must take before he can enjoy any treat larger than a small rawhide stick.

Step 1: Look around nervously for roughly 5 minutes, with treat in mouth, letting drool pool up and dangerously linger around edges of mouth so Bree feels she mush rush over and wipe Crazy Dog's face.

Step 2: Walk around intently looking for a good hiding place for large treat. Places that apparently make great hiding spots:

- blankets
- under pillows on human beds
- next to a lamp
- on the floor in the middle of the living room

So as you can see, these range from really disgusting when you try to finally go to bed that night and find a sticky dog bone under your covers, all the way to really freaking RETARDED.

So yesterday he is walking around with this Jumbone and he paces and cries and finally sets it ON THE CARPET NEXT TO THE COUCH. Where, obviously, no one can see it. He seemed satisfied and trotted off. Here's where Step 3 happens.

Step 3: Bree picks up bone and hands it back to Crazy Dog, wherein Crazy Dog looks at you with a mixture of horror (that you found his well-hidden treat) and pure admiration (that you found his well-hidden treat).

At this time he feels justly outwitted and settles down to usually eat the bone. For a smart dog, and he IS smart - he's certainly a card-carrying imbecile if he even thinks for a moment he can HIDE a treat in the middle of the living room and Roxy is not going to eat it.

The Tattoo

I said I would get it. And basically I ignored your votes from my previous post. Please forgive the shoddy camera work, because I used POS Motorola Q9m to take the pictures, and if I didn't know better I would think this phone was made in the 1950s based on the quality with which it takes on most tasks.

Thank goodness I am getting my new phone soon.

It says "ecrivez" which means "to write" in French. It is on my left hand because my partner pointed out that I shake hands with my right hand and, although it shouldn't bother anyone because it's not any of their business, I realize people pass judgment on these things and seeing as how I am in the customer service industry, I figured left hand might be more prudent.

And yes, I speak French. I didn't just tattoo it on me because I thought it was cool, like some asian characters I know people have. They probably walked into a tattoo parlor and said hey I want that character that says "peace" not knowing a million other people have that not-so-unique tattoo as well.

For example. Before I landed on French, I wanted to do a Gaelic word in a tattoo because, well, I am Irish. So I looked things up on the world wide web and wouldn't you know it there was an online Gaelic dictionary! So I found this word that meant something or other (don't even remember now, so obviously it was important), and then I got the wise idea to cross reference it to make sure it translated back to english properly. Oh boy am I glad I did that. Whatever the word was I was trying to find, it translated back to something like "vacuum." Hence, my decision to use a word from a language I actually know. And no, I won't speak French with you, because I don't remember a lot of it.

Even my tattoo artist (Jimbo or Slash or something like that) remembered "ecrivez" from French class. He said to me: "Oh yeah, like I remember it from that tape the teacher put on that said 'Ecoutez! [listen] Ecrivez! [write]'

So there you have it. It spans cultures and industries. What I have done people is tattoo myself with something that is helping to bring people of diverse backgrounds together under a common knowledge. Just call me Sarah Palin.

Decision 2008

Moving back to the spirit of Roaring Corgi is hard to do in the past week with all the hubbub going on nationally and the recent inspiration felt by both me and the husband. I actually opened up this fresh post with the intention of talking about Roxy and how she doesn't like to share, which she doesnt. AT ALL. But then I thought about the Prop 8 discourse. So I am making a conscious decision not to refer to the union between the two of us as a “marriage.” If there are still people walking around in this world, who can NOT refer to their significant other, the love of their life, their most important person, as their married partner… than NEITHER WILL I.

I will not drink from a water fountain that someone else can’t drink from, just because I can. I will not go to a store, sit on a bus, eat in a restaurant when other human beings can not. If there are humans out there that are denied the right to refer to something in the same way I can, because I have a different piece of paper than they do, then fine. I will not refer to it in that way. I am not MARRIED. I am in a partnership, a union. I love my partner as much as anyone else who has a partner. I don’t love him more. I shouldn’t be allowed to call it something that others are not allowed to call it because the majority won’t let them.

The absurdity still impassions me. I apologize if I am alienating readers, family, friends. Actually I am not sorry if I do that. I am only sorry you don’t see it as I stated above. But that’s why there is change. That’s why there is a movement behind this. It bothers not just me.

I’ll be at a nationwide protest this Saturday in South Coast. Yes, I’ll be that person on the street corner, wearing an Obama shirt and holding a H8 sign. Take it or leave it. Take me or leave me. Your choice. And I’ll defend to the death your right to have your opinion, I just wont defend your right to take that right away from others.

Cosmetic Nipple Surgery

Before you judge the title of this post, just read this ad on Craigslist that Dooce.com linked to first.

I just can't even recommend it enough.

The Morning After

I am feeling elated and happy about the results on the national level, but a little disappointed with my fellow constituents on the state level.

For those of you who don't know, I ran a polling place yesterday on voting day as an inspector, which meant I was the boss of that precinct for an entire day. It meant I was there from 5:45am until 9:30pm. It was the single longest day I have ever worked before. The polls were open from 7am until 8pm solid so that alone was a 13 hour shift, without even the setup, break down, and turning in ov voter's ballots. And that shift didn't include breaks. I think I left the polling room once for 10 minutes to shove a half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into my face before heading back in to continue process voters and make sure everyone was happy with the election process.

It was also the single most rewarding day I think I have ever spent in recent memory. It was exhausting, sometimes frustrating, and other times hilarious and rewarding. The poll workers with me at my location were excited, dedicated, and hard working. If only everyone I ever worked with was that way. 

It helped that I woke up to rain. It was somehow cleansing the W. stink off America.

On the state level, I'm disappointed that Prop 8 is still so close. I can't wrap my brain around why anyone would pass that into law. I respect everyone's right to vote what they feel and would NEVER EVER want anyone to not feel like they can vote or speak their mind - even if I do not agree. That is what makes this country amazing and special - and that is saying a lot coming from me, who has been called "unpatriotic" more than once. And I think questioning my fellow country people and lawmakers is what actually MAKES me patriotic. Think what you will, we all have to live together, and in general, I vote so that I can live with all people peacefully... namely, I never vote to take away other people's civil rights. But those who support Prop 8, you are allowed to. I just don't agree and happen to think you are discriminating. But I'm allowed to think that too.

I had a conversation with my husband this morning about it. It might get a little TMI at the end here, so I am warning my under-18 readers.

My Republican husband said this to me:

"The bottom line is that yesterday, we as a non-minority group denied a fundamental civil right to a minority group.  It's disgraceful and un-American. For all our talk about tolerance and freedom and justice, we couldn't extend a basic civil right we take for granted to a smaller and politically weaker group of people with slightly different beliefs. So that two days ago, when a gay couple who truly love each other went to bed they could have dreamed about some day getting married.  Today when they woke up, our state had destroyed that dream.

And why did we do it?  Was it really God's work?  If Jesus was standing next to me, would he have given me the knowing look of how proud of me he was that we did this?  Would he have approved the denial of civil rights? Or would he preach tolerance and love for those of different beliefs?
No, this was nothing more than petty fear, intolerance, and hatred of those that are different.  It was political bullying of people who live differently than us."

And I responded: "I am totally hot for you right now. We are so having election sex tonight."