I Feel 21 Again

It was just like old times last night, like we never missed a beat. It was a great 5 hours of girl-talk, coffee and cigarettes. (No alcoholic beverages this time around.) There was not one, but TWO old friends that I met with! The other was a girlfriend I hadn't seen since my wedding day 10 whole years ago! It's definitely Deja Vu month.

On another note, I got a little yelled at by hubby about the peepee incident. The dogs are restricted from the bedroom until further notice. We may possibly "switch" sides on the bed, too. I got grilled about how many times this has happened that he doesn't know about. I plead the 5th and tried to look all innocent and shit. Yeah, like THAT would work.

Out of Control and Over the Edge

Not me this time; the dogs. Well, actually, me too now that I think about it. Louie may have slept his last night in my bed. Sunday night at about 1am, we all curled up (the dogs and I - Jim was still watching T.V.) in the bed. Cozy-cozy. Maggie at the foot of the bed, and Louie on my left next to my belly. We slowly drifted off into zzzz land.

A short while later, I had to roll over because my arm was going numb. I butt-bumped Louie. Startled the shit out of him. He growled at me for such a rude awakening. Maggie attacked him for growling at me. (She's VERY protective and hates violence.) Louie attacked her back, for once. and peed. ON.MY.BED. AGAIN. He didn't just dribble either, he really let that bladder GO. I popped up out of bed and shoved the dogs over the edge of the bed. I was *so* mad. The dogs knew it, too, because they didn't know whether to shit or go blind at this point.

It then occurred to me that I would have to clean this mess up quietly without telling Jim. Why, you ask? Because he was not a big supporter of the dogs sleeping on the bed in the first place, AND it just so happens that Louie peed on Jim's side of the bed. Oops, shhh, don't tell Daddy. My hopes were that Jim would fall asleep in his recliner tonight, as he so frequently does. Oooh, pleeez God, I will get so in trouble. I feel 10 years old all over again.

I have to somehow get the Nature's Miracle and a towel without Jim noticing. Tiptoe, tiptoe. Got it. Dogs still hiding in the corner. Good. After I realized that I grabbed one of Jim's golf towels, I panicked. I cannot use a golf towel to clean up dog pee if I want to live. Now what do I do? That was the only towel in the cupboard. All others are in laundry room on the other side of the house. Crap. The only thing left to do (all the while the pee is soaking into my bed) is use my own clothes. Some old t-shirts - yeah, that'll work.

Now that I have 4 t-shirts that reek of Nature's Miracle and dog urine, what do I do with them? Didn't think of that. I must have stood in the bedroom holding those t-shirts for 10 minutes trying to think of something. Uh-oh. Hear. foot. steps. QUICK! Threw t-shirts, jumped into still-wet-bed. (Ick!!) Jim walks in.

Jim: "What the hell are you doing?"
Me: "Oh, the dogs were fighting."
Jim to dogs: "Get in your crates!" (Dogs run to their crates in the office.)
Jim: "What are you doing with the Nature's Miracle?" (He saw it sitting on the vanity table)
Me: "Um, cleaning up pee?"
Jim: "They peed on the floor too??" (Getting angry)
Me: "Uhhhhhhhhhhh...uh-huh." (Big liar-head)

Shaking his head, Jim leaves the room. WOOHOO! I did it!! I get up and wipe off my soggy ass, put a bunch of old clothes on top of pee-spot and climb back in. Its not so bad. I'll just tell him in the morning when he is half asleep. Yeah, I'll do that.

Couldn't sleep. Gee, I wonder why? Got up and had a cigarette. Talked to Jim for a while like nothing has happened. Decide to go back to bed. Jim says he is going to bed too and follows me down the hallway. Uh-oh. Think! Think! Can't think of anything. Get into bed. Jim changes his clothes and gets ready to crawl in bed. I can't do it. I tell him.

I'll let him calm down before I explain myself.

Blog Catch-Up

It has been a slacker week in blogland for me. I have been sleeping, eating and working. gah. I am meeting my long-lost friend for coffee on Monday night, so that should prove interesting. We have A LOT to catch up on. I have missed my friend terribly and have felt bad for a long time that we lost touch on a bad note. She is the one with whom I spent my "rebel" years with, so talking about old times will be a hoot. Lots of drunken, stupid and INSANELY fun times.

In other news, my neighbors need to die. They are the most ANNOYING people on the planet. As you may recall, they are the ones who have the obnoxious playset in the backyard with the kids that I refer to as "the spawn of hell". Did I ever tell you about the night I drank too much? Me and hubby were playing music loud, and Holly Hobbie over there got in a huff and started *slamming* windows and such. I decided to FLASH THEM. Yep. I did. Hehe. Anyway, they are always in the backyard. I mean ALWAYS. It could be raining, and they are out there playing with their damn kids. I hate it. I am a very private person, and there is nothing worse than seeing those freaks every time I look up. No one else in the neighborhood goes outside that much, and of course, the ONES THAT ACT LIKE OZZIE AND FUCKING HARRIET have to live right behind me. They have on their little rain hats and slickers today and are talking "baby talk". I want to puke. Seriously. Harriet was talking to another mom in the neighborhood awhile back who happens to be a friend of mine. My friend told me that they were discussing songs their children liked to listen to. My friend's daughter happens to like the "barbie song". Harriet apparently was horrified, put on her disapproving face, and told my friend that that song was "immoral" and is a bad example for young girls. Yeah, the barbie song IS going to corrupt society, you know? Puh-leeze.

Question

Have you ever tripped while working out on the treadmill? It's quite dramatic, I must say.

Some Happy News

I just got an email from a friend that I haven't spoken to in 5 years! We had a falling out, but she just contacted me through classmates.com. I have thought so much about her; we went through many tough times together. Oh, happy day! CrazyDogMama is feeling all sappy today.

Learn How To Cuss Properly By Reading Blogs

During my blog-surf today, I believe I encountered 101 ways to improve the word ASS. Or better yet, new and improved cuss words.

Now, we have all called someone an "ass" before, an "asshole" or even an "asswipe", but have you called someone an "asshat"? I have not. Not until today. My co-worker, let's call him "M", found out today what it is like to be called an asshat. He did not know whether to laugh or be offended. I will let him figure that out for himself.

Might I add that you can expand on "asshat" by describing someone's mean blog comments as "asshatness".

There is also "assface", "assnodule" and my personal favorite, "assbag". "Assbag" is not new to me because my husband calls Louie an assbag. He will come when called assbag. Not to me, though, as noted in the previous post.

There are many other fun cuss words out there, too, but we'll talk about that later.

There's normal, then there's my dogs.

Normal Dogs: Come to you (at least eventually) when you call them.

My Dogs: Go to *anyone* else in the room but me when I call them, or just sit there looking at me DEFIANTLY.

Normal Dogs: Chew and play with toys, and fetch things all cute-like.

My Dogs: Act possessed and rip the shit out of every single toy you buy them inside of 10 seconds while you add up in your head all the money you just burned, and run after balls that you throw, sniff them, then return to you and wait for you to go pick them up and throw them again. This seems to entertain them greatly.

Normal Dogs: Can be trained to take a walk.

My Dogs: Insist on shitting in the middle of the street while you are crossing it, then yip and wail loudly as you try to DRAG them across while they are defecating so that they don't get run over. They also put on the "choke-and-puke" show for the first 30 minutes. It's really fun.

Normal Dogs: Wag their tails and look cute when someone comes over.

My Dogs: Screech-bark so loud it makes children cry, and RAM people who come over. They truly *love* everybody, but it can be a little hard to explain this while screaming over the noise.

This is how much I love my dogs.

This morning, Louie was being needy. He would NOT leave me alone. I always feel bad leaving them when I go to work - it just seems wrong. Anyways, I was drying my new hairdo (which somehow takes 10 minutes longer than it did before, go figure) and Louie was sitting as close to me as he could, staring up. I reached down to give him a scatch. He *really* liked this and wouldn't stand for just two seconds of scratching. Must. Have. More. Okay, more. and more. and more. Try blow-drying your hair AND scratching your pooch at the same time. Not easy. But I did it. For 30 minutes. I was late to work. Oh well. He's worth it.

What on EARTH is happening?

Well, Mt. Saint Helens is rumbling, there was a 6.0 earthquake in Central California, Toutatis is making a fly-by tomorrow, and let's not forget all the freaky hurricanes, the Iraq war and the elections coming up. Any bets on what's next?

There are so many earthquakes today all over the world.

I got a new do, too!

Seems like this is the month for new hairdo's. Skwigg went blonde, Divaquest went short, and I went shorter and blonder! It is actually just about an inch shorter and a little blonder than the picture I have on the right for my profile. Got some layering too. My head was seriously looking like a dingy mop, way too long (it covered my boobs) and way too brownish. Something had to be done. It is really fun to come to work like nothing is different, sit down at my desk and just watch. People will walk by and glance at me, then stop, turn around and come back. Lots of comments, you know the routine. By the end of the day every single blonde joke in the world has been told, and if I hear "Did you get your hair done?" one more time, I swear I will hurl. Yes, YOU FREAKING IDIOT, I did get my hair done. You have a terrific grasp on the obvious.

Which "Spice" are You?

Jim and I went out to breakfast yesterday morning. I didn't feel like getting dressed up, so I put on stretch pants, a t-shirt and Adidas flip-flops with socks. I said to him, "I'm going as Sporty Spice." Jim said to me, "I'm going as Old Spice". LOL!!

Meet "Crazydogmama: Groomer"

So, I called my groomer to schedule an appointment for the pups last Friday. No one answered, so I left a message. I got a call back later that day from a young girl (not my usual groomer) who tells me that they are no longer doing "hand stripping" because of the "carpal tunnel" issue, and would I still like to schedule for a bath? No longer hand stripping? SHIT! Hand stripping is what you have to have done to Cairn Terriers instead of clipping with scissors. It's when you pull out or "strip" all the dead hair out BY HAND. It was impossible to find a groomer to do this because it is so tedious and time consuming - not to mention most groomers don't even know HOW to do it. This means I have to do it. I did it. Poor dogs. Poor CrazyDogMama. My fingers were actually bleeding afterward. The dogs look a little funny, but not too bad. It took four frigging hours. So, now I am pricing out some professional grooming tools online. Grooming table, MARS Coat Handler (a stripping tool helper) and other stuff. VERY EXPENSIVE. Crap. This sucks.

You should have seen it. I set up a scrapbook table in the garage and commenced the stripping of the dogs there. They yowled and whined, and I cussed. All the neighborhood mommies were horrified, I'm sure.

I wonder how many people will google "stripped" and will come here expecting to find naked pictures. Ha!

Louie & Billy

Here is Louie snuggled up to my stepson, Billy. That dog is glued to that kid when he comes to visit. It's like I don't even exist. Impossibly cute.

Nappy-Nap Time

When I'm tired, I'm tired. Here's me catching a few Z's on a bench in downtown Seattle. It was the 80's - hence the stupid-looking sunglasses. Picture courtesy of my mom who thinks I'm certifiable.

More Organizing

Here is my latest project with my neighbor's kitchen. TA-DA! An organized pantry!

The paint and the ceramics, finally!

My new red wall (part of it, anyway - the other part isn't done YET) and my new teacup by Angelheart Designs. Not a very good pic of the new paint, but I'm working on more. The lighting doesn't want to cooperate. Oh, and the blue cushions on the chairs are going away, just in case you thought I didn't know that they look like caca with the red paint.

 

Meltdown

Having one. It's been a stressful and busy week. Too much working, not enough alcohol - ahem - I mean fun. I haven't even had time to blog. How pathetic is that? It looks like I am going to have to go back on my anxiety meds cuz I've had, like, 5 mini-nervous breakdowns this week. Yeah, I almost broke into tears when they didn't have my shade of powder at the makeup store, and I thought the world was coming to end when my husband left my chocolate soy milk out of the refrigerator all night. I cannot make decisions either. I got my nails done on Friday and could not decide what color to have them painted. It was just too much thinking. NEED. DRUGS. I also need a fricking iced mocha and a massage. Maybe an iced mocha with some Baily's Irish creme in it. Hey wait, maybe I'll just drink the Baily's WHILE getting a massage. YEAH! That's the ticket!

Dinner at Crazydogmama's

Had fake eggs with half a Louisiana hot link and a glass of Valpolicella (red wine). I *seriously* need to go grocery shopping. Oh, and, while cooking it, I was shaking my ass to "The Zoo" by The Scorpions. Jim said that if he'd had a dollar, he would have stuck it in my panties.

...and here you were wondering what Crazydogmama did with her kid-less nights...

NOW they do it. GRR.

"We left out all the calories and kept in all the fun!"

The Quiche Controversy

This weekend, I tried to make a Quiche without eggs, without wheat, without gluten and without dairy. I know, I know, most people would be like "eat something else, dipshit". But not me. Let's see, it went something like this:

-Buy gluten-free, wheat-free pie crust mix.

 
-Buy "culinary egg substitute".

 
-Try to find some kind of cheese that is not actually cheese.

 
-Chop up a bunch of vegetables - especially things like jalapeños, so that I won't be able to taste the other stuff.

 
-Make dough. This could be a book in and of itself. I am not a chef. I am barely a cook. After attempting to make this mother-fucking dough, I am considering myself a failure at life itself. I start mixing the ingredients. I realize I am missing 2 important ingredients. Derrr, I can read, Derrr. Send husband out for missing ingredients. Resume mixing all ingredients. Read in directions that dough needs to be chilled for an hour before rolling begins. Think to myself "fuck that, I'm hungry now". Forget doing that part of the directions. Start rolling dough. Cuss a lot because I don't have a rolling pin. Big Derr. Go borrow rolling pin from neighbor. Begin rolling dough. Cuss some more and almost start crying because dough is sticking the rolling pin. Call neighbor and ask why her rolling pin doesn't work. She tells me to use flour on the rolling pin, and that will help with the sticking. I start to use flour. I then start throwing things around the kitchen (while actually crying and wondering why I went off my anti-anxiety medicine) realizing that the whole reason why I bought the gluten-free, wheat-free mix in the first place was because I CAN'T HAVE REGULAR FLOUR. The purpose of the recipe is now moot due to use of regular flour. I continue anyway because my stomach hurts from not eating anything. I can't get the dough to roll correctly. I go back to the directions and read that I am supposed to be rolling the dough between two pieces of saran wrap, not wax paper. I cannot get dough off wax paper without destroying it. Destroy dough and roll into ball again. Decide to just "mush" dough-ball into pie pan with fingers. Satisfied after wanting to commit murder. Dogs are hiding. Pour all of the other shit in the middle and throw in oven for an hour. Eat it. Make husband eat it. Not bad, but husband gave me a "B+". I asked, "Why not an A?" Husband says, "It was lacking presentation". I can live with that.