Dogs, Bathrooms, and Movies

I have three little posts today. Yippee!

Dogs

If diamonds are a girl's best friend and dogs are man's best friend then I think I will be going to Target to buy Old Spice, tighty-whiteys, and some beef jerky to convert to the other side. I love my dog.

I grew up as a cat person. I still love cats but alas, my hubster, Tommy, is allergic to them. I tried to convince him to start getting allergy shots and it was a no-go. I miss having a cat terribly, but I live vicariously through another person's blog I read, and she has like ten cats.

When I was in high school my parents invited two dogs, Boxers, to live in our home. Being the self-absorbed socialite that I was, I did not have time for those slobbering fools. At the time, they were simply a nuisance. They were vile creatures who would chew my underwear and socks if I left them laying around. Of course, I was way too busy to pick up my dirty clothes.

So, I was never a dog person. I didn't hate dogs, nor was I afraid of them. I just always thought they were stinky and germ infested. If a dog got close enough and somehow licked my hand or my leg, it really grossed me out. Cats on the other hand, they never bother you much without being asked and they self-clean. Nevermind that some of that cleaning usually involves the nether-region, they don't stink.

Since Tommy is unwilling to live with red eyes, a swollen face, and a closed airway (Can you believe that? All the things I sacrifice for him!) we agreed to get a dog someday. I had one stipulation, that I be in on the dog selection process and he not show up out of the blue with a yap dog or a Great Dane. Two years ago, we decided it was time to look for a puppy.

I visited the Humane Society (heartbreaking) and I saw a little freckled puppy named Speck. Speck would not come to the front of the cage but sat in the back with a sad look on her face. I took Tommy back the next day and she was gone! I asked, and they had taken her to a Feeders Supply in Indiana. We traveled over the river and she had just arrived. My husband is pretty much a sucker for any dog, so he immediately fell in love.

She was such a cute puppy. Unfortunately, all my pics from that time are on my old phone and I haven't yet figured out how to retrieve them. We went through a few names and eventually settled on Bowie. First, because her little legs were bowed out (I think from the cages). Second, because T. is a huge David Bowie fan.

It has been two years since we brought her home. As far as basics go, she has been a great dog. She never really chewed much, she was essentially potty trained, and she minds us well. Her bad side is she only minds us inside the house. Outside, she becomes feral and goes bezerko! Also, she is a jumper. Jumping on people is my second biggest dog pet peeve after barking. I have tried and tried and still try and she can't get it through her thick skull.

Aside from that, she is such a joy. She's smart and playful and sweet. She loves to go for walks and on car rides. When it's time for bed, she runs up the stairs, jumps on the bed, lays down and is asleep in minutes. YES, we let the dog sleep in the bed. I may wake up covered in dog hair but she loves it so much and the sheets can be changed.

She keeps T. company while I'm at work. When I work three nights in a row, the first night I am off, she is attached to my hip. It's like she missed me and she's especially lovable. I take her on walks and I'm usually the one who gives her treats, so if I move a muscle, she is right there. One of my favorite things about Bowie is she loves to stretch out on her back more than any dog I've ever known. She's so cute when she does it. You have to rub her pink belly.

I know everything I've said could be applied to almost any dog. The difference is she's my dog. I never knew the love of a dog, and now I do. My eyes well up with tears when I think about the fact that she won't live forever. I can't bear to think of it. I can no longer watch the commercials where they show the dogs in cages. You know the one. The one with the Sarah McLachlin song. Gut wrenching! So here are a few pictures of the second love of my life:





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Bathrooms

My house is a great house with good bones but it's very outdated. When I tell people everything in it is from the sixties and seventies they say, "Oh, but retro is in!" To which I reply, "I know, but it's not retro cool. It's retro grandma." It is, but I love my house and I am thankful to have it. Lately though, everything is starting to go wrong. I think that's how life goes. Your dryer breaks, then your oven quits working, and you just pray that the air conditioner makes it one more summer.

So, the hall bath decided it was time to go on strike. The grout in the shower was cracked and had gaping holes and the hideous medicine cabinet went on the fritz. When I say hideous, I mean it. Here's a pic (this is the same one in another bathroom):

The lights for the bathroom were on the medicine cabinet and so was the only electrical outlet. It was time for a makeover. I spent four days removing wallpaper with orange and green flowers, removing the wallpaper backing that would not come off with it, washing off the glue, taping, priming, painting, shopping for lighting, wall plates, a cabinet, and a mirror. I am thrilled with the result! It's kinda plain and I need one more picture to hang by the light switch. I had to paint the frame of the mirror I bought and the paint peeled off the edges so I will have to replace it but it's great for a four day frugal re-do!

The pictures on the wall are music related pictures for Tommy. The big one is a picture of John and Yoko. The others are Hendrix, The Stones, Grateful Dead and The Allman Brothers. They were my little surprise for him. He loved it!

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Movies

I wrote a post about songs you can't get out of your head. This one is about movies you watch every time they're on TV. I have a few that are worthy of repetition, like Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile, Sophie's Choice, The Sound of Music. We all watch The Sound of Music. But I like the movies that kinda suck or are sort of stupid but you're driven to watch them anyway.

For instance, Point Break. The acting in this movie is hideous. Keanu Reeves has got to be one of the worst actors to ever clumsily grace the silver screen. Yet, it is oddly appealing. If I am channel surfing and it's on, I will watch it. Tommy agrees. I also have an unexplained, embarrassing affinity for She Devil. I know! It's horrid, right? Roseanne Barr? And what was Meryl Streep thinking? She is, in my opinion, the greatest actress of all time. How could she demean herself like that?

I know someone else who says they have to watch Tommy Boy and Problem Child. Problem Child? Even I have to turn my nose up at something.

So what is your movie? What are the ones that you just have to watch?

Facebook Flatulence

I love me some Facebook! It is wonderful to get in touch with old friends, see what's going on their life, explain to them that you've been a slacker but recently managed to get your shit together. Most of all, I just like to see who's on there. People you know well, people you sort of know, people you don't know, people you wish you knew. I like crawling through other people's friend lists, looking for that ever evasive long lost friend or that hottie from high school. (Did I really send that guy an anonymous rose on Valentine's Day? He's still wearing bloochers with duct tape and peg-legging his jeans!)

I have so far been fascinated by the whole "friending" part. I have been surprised many times by some of the friend requests I have received. I am an open book. There might be a handful of people I have met in my whole life who I absolutely cannot stand. Therefore, I have accepted every friend request that has come my way. I especially love the "do I know this person?" request. I chalk it up to all those drugs I did in the 2000's and hit Confirm.

For some reason, I will accept any one who requests me, but I am timid about sending out friend requests. I will see someone and some little memory will pop up in my head and I will want to friend them. But I don't. Well, usually I don't. Until, one day, I was looking through one of my best-friend's (let's call her June-Bug) friend list. I saw this guy. I knew him in high school. I think we may have even gone to a dance together. He was HI-larious! Let's call him....Bill Woodstown. Now remember, I am a timid friend requester, so after a day or two of thinking it over, I sent him a friend request. He promptly accepted and my friend tally increased.

One of my memories of him is so adolescent I am getting pimples just typing this. He would fart all the time. He farted a lot. June-Bug was never able to resist a good laugh at farts. To this day farting and people tripping and falling down still send her into peals of laughter. This only encouraged Bill Woodstown. So one night he though it would be funny to run around us in circles while farting. (He may have been the original crop duster!)

So. Long story long. The other day I had a friend request and I was like "Hey! Cool!" and then I sent a message to June-Bug to say, "Look who friended me! Wow, blast from the past!"

It was during this private FB messaging that I mentioned to her that I had seen a picture one of her past flames on Bill Woodstown's FB page. I wanted to be able to give her better directions to the pic and I went to my FB friend list.

Lo and Behold! Bill Woodstown was nowhere to be found on my friend list. I had been UN-friended!!!! OMG! I was aghast! I made one small step for friend-kind and then took one giant step into a pile of moon poop! Well of course, I immediately start coming up with reasons he would unfriend me. Maybe I broke his heart and didn't realize it. No... Maybe he... No..... Maybe....no, not that either. I honestly can't come up with a reason for him to slap me in the face like Elton John challenging Liberace to a duel.

In the end, all I have to say is look out Bill Woodstown! If you see me out in public you better run fast or you will soon find yourself trapped while I fart circles around you!

Public Airs

I decided, after a few weeks of consideration, to go public with my blog. It was a difficult decision to make for a few reasons. The first being that I would have to delete my very first entry written in March because it was about someone specific in my life and it wasn't very nice. It was a total bitch session. I felt so good after I wrote it, but I felt uneasy that someone would find it and tell that person about it. (Don't worry, it wasn't about you!)

The second reason it was a difficult decision is, from now on, no more bitch sessions about anyone at all. I meant for this to kind of be like a journal. Sort of therapeutic. Maybe the therapy is finding a way to come to terms with irritants without spouting a river of obscenities.

Lastly, there is an element of self-importance to writing and putting it out there for all the world to read. Like, "Here! Read me! I am witty and interesting!" I would never claim to be anywhere near a well-developed writer. As a matter of fact, the whole time I am writing an entry, I am painfully aware that I use way too many commas and probably in the wrong places.

Misspellings and bad grammar be darned. I have thoroughly enjoyed pecking out my first few entries. You can read it or not. I hope you like it enough to stop by every now and then. You will notice I have used a different name. This is just to keep away the stalkers. Please subscribe on the right side of the page if you want to get regular updates. If you post comments, be nice darn dang it!

Jerry Aristotle

My husband cracks me up.

We watch Jeopardy every night. Well, we record it every night and catch up on the nights I'm off. I would say that my husband and I are of equal intelligence. In completely different subjects, but fairly equal.

The difference lies here: When I watch Jeopardy, I pay attention to the title of every category. You have to so that you can answer some of the questions correctly. For example, they will have a category titled, "Crossword Clues F." This means that every answer will begin with the letter F. So if the clue is, "Wind instrument in the orchestra" you answer, "What is flute?" instead of, "What is oboe?"

My husband on the other hand, NEVER pays attention to the category. This always produces some hilarious results. Here is a play by play of a recent viewing:

Contestant: I will take "Johnny" for $600, Alex.
Alex: This famous man..blah blah blah.....

My husband: Who is Nostradamus!?
Me: (wheezing and barely able to breathe through the laughter) JOHNNY NOSTRADAMUS?!!

Thankfully, my hubby is a good sport and able to laugh at himself. We had to pause the show and for five minutes we laughed and made up funny names. Bobby Copernicus. Gary Tchaikovsky. Brian Michelangelo. Larry Voltaire.

If you ever see me laughing like a crazy person in my car, it is probably because I am thinking of that moment.

My Want List

Due to the fact that I work third shift, I have absolutely no regular sleep schedule. I can stay up all night or, if I don't work, I can be in bed by eight-thirty and sleep the night through. This morning I woke up at five. I lumbered into the computer room only to remember my husband had taken the computer to be fixed. So I tiptoed back into the bedroom to watch television.

I was looking through the movies available for rent when I saw a category called "Free Movies." Under this selection were different channel headings and I chose the Sundance Channel. It looked like the usual documentary and quirky movie fare. I quickly chose to watch a documentary called FLOW: For Love of Water. It was all about how the world's water supply is quickly becoming privatized and poor people are being robbed of their birth right to free water. It also touched on the subject of large corporations in the United States digging wells and drying up creek beds that flow through other people's land and what gives them the right to the water. And it claimed that in five to ten years, some states in the west will run out of water.

I always end up crying when I watch things like this. A small part of my upset is due to empathy of the poor people and their plight. But if I am honest, the real reason I get so weepy is because these movies make me confront my own life. This is in two parts.

The first part is the fact that I feel absolutely helpless. I mean, what can I possibly do to change the world? This is why I don't like watching the news with my husband (who watches news all day long). It makes me feel out of control. I can't change the crazy shit this country is doing.

The second part is I do want to do something to make a difference.

For the last few years and especially the last year, I have felt very uneasy. I have felt like I have no purpose to my life. My husband thinks this is crazy considering I graduated nursing school and I work on a cardiac oriented unit in a hospital. He points out that every time I go to work, I am making a difference in someone's life. I acknowledge that. I do connect with some of my patients.

Still, I have a need to fill my life with something else. I'm not sure if we are going to have a child, which is a whole other story. If we don't, I need something else. I want to do the things we always just talk about. The way to get there though, is not easy. Time is money. To have money you have to work. To have money, you have to stop living paycheck to paycheck. To stop living paycheck to paycheck you have to face your materialistic tendencies. You have to decide, what do I really need? What do I really want?

After the movie was over, it was about seven a.m. and I turned off the television and laid quietly in bed. A soft glow of morning sunshine was peeking out around the edges of the hideous curtains hanging in our bedroom. I have always hated those curtains. Fugly doesn't cover it. I can't tell you how many times, while I was in nursing school, I thought as soon as I have the money, I am buying new curtains. Well, I'm out of school. I can afford those curtains. But do they really matter? I pondered why my husband and I live in a four bedroom home. We could live on less. I started making a list of wants. Here is my list:

I want to want less
I want to live in a smaller place
I want less bills
I want to have a purpose
I want to go places
I want to make a difference
I want to be free of restraint
I want to be conscious
I want to stop living unconsciously

About this time, he woke up and asked me what I was thinking about. Ironically, I was typing up my list of wants on my Blackberry (that I absolutely adore). I showed him the list. We had a long conversation about all of it. From the movie to money to altruistic endeavors. We didn't see eye to eye on everything, but it was therapeutic.

I'm realistic. I will never be some kind of Mother Theresa. I am way too sarcastic for that. However, I do think I can make a difference in my own way. Like everything, it takes a while for plans to come to fruition. But, I surfed the net today looking for opportunities to volunteer and use my skills as a nurse. I may be on to something. Those curtains can wait.

You Made Me Miss the Slick Rick Gig!

For the last three weeks or so I have had a song running through my head. Does that happen to you? I know everyone gets a song stuck in their head every now and then. But this song, it just won't go away!

It all started because I asked my husband to get me Amy Winehouse's Back to Black CD. Dutiful he is, so I had it the next day. It has about ten songs on it, none of which are very lengthy, enabling one to listen to it over and over. And over. And over. And over.

It is one of the best albums I have listened to in a long time. I absolutely love every single song on it. The first song is Rehab and, while I love it, I am a little sick of it after the hundreth time. All of the other songs are superb. I love the bluesy, jazzy, oldies, big-band feeling to her music. The lyrics, though, that is what gets you. I am amazed at how she manages to fit in so many curse words and drug and sex references and have it sound, well, normal.

So this song, the third on the list, is called Mr. Jones (What Kind of Fuckery). Who, I ask, can resist liking a ballad with the word "fuckery" in it? NOT ME! She croons, "What kind of fuckery is this?!" The very next line, she blames a guy for making her miss "the Slick Rick gig." Oh! It's genius!

I feel so bad that Miss Winehouse is an alcoholic crack addict. So many of the most talented musical artists are addicted to drugs and alcohol. The sad part about it is, I wonder, if she cleaned up, would her music still be great?

I'm not enough of an A-hole to wish anyone ill will. I hope she cleans up. But I am starting to think I may need rehab to get this song out of my head.

"What kind of fuckery are we? Nowadays you don't mean dick to me..."