Speaking of Killing Spiders

There is definitely a RIGHT way and a WRONG way to kill a spider for me.

The RIGHT way:

1. Very quickly, and I mean QUICKLY run and get a large tissue or paper towel.
2. Wait for me to reach minimum safe distance from the killing ground.
3. Smash the spider into the tissue or paper towel, making sure you cannot see ANY of the spider. There should be no "spider residue" on the wall, either.
4. Take the dead spider wad IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION from where I am and dispose of it in an outside garbage facility.

The WRONG way:

1. Take your time looking at the spider before you fetch anything to kill it with.
2. Tell me that spiders are "good" and shouldn't be killed because they eat bugs. BULLSHIT.
3. Kill the spider with your bare hand.
4. Scoop the spider up with a piece of paper and put it outside. IT WILL COME BACK IN TO GET ME.
5. Kill the spider, then try to walk towards me with its legs sticking out of a tissue.
6. Leave spider guts on the wall.
7. Whack the spider, letting it just fall to the ground AND NOT PICKING IT UP. This is a serious NO-NO.
8. Put the dead spider in the trash next to my desk. You KNOW it will be resurrected and come back to get me, right?
9. Put the dead spider in the toilet. They crawl back up, and I can't even finish this sentence...
10. And last, but not least, LAUGH AT ME AND TELL ME TO BE A BIG GIRL. I will kill you.

Some Clarifications

Regarding the questions/comments on the picture of Louie and Maggie on my sidebar:

No, Louie does not smoke Marlboro Lights. He's partial to Camels.

No, that is not a gun pointed at Louie's head, it's my emergency brake.

No, Louie was not in danger of a head-whack from the emergency brake if I took a turn too sharp, we were sitting in a parking lot waiting for our designated appointment at the vet's office.

Ways to irritate me at work.

1. Don't say good morning as you pass by me in the hallway. Come ON, that's rude.

2. Gleefully stroll past me in the hallway and exclaim "Happy Monday!". Just DIE.

3. Pour yourself the last of the coffee and then put the empty pot back on the burner and walk away as I'm standing there.

4. Come into my office at 6:30 am and start explaining a complicated project to me. You could at least wait until noon.

5. Come into my office and start reading the personal notes on my wall calendar.

6. Comment on the notes on my wall calendar and start asking me what my personal acronyms mean.

7. Stand in the doorway of my office until I get off the phone.

8. Come into my office and help yourself to my expensive hand lotion without asking.

9. Ask me how much money I make.

10. Refuse to kill spiders for me. That's just MEAN.

11. Mock my coughing fit from your office two doors down.

12. State to me loudly "You're having ANOTHER cigarette?".

13. Bring your baby to work and expect me to act like its the cutest baby EVER. I am afraid of babies, and I will HIDE IN THE BATHROOM UNTIL YOU LEAVE.

14. Bring everyone back an ice cream except me just because I told you I was lactose intolerant. Fucker.

15. Bring stinky food for lunch.

16. Tell me my desk is "too clean". I'm organized you idiot, not underworked.

17. Bring donuts in the day after I tell you I'm "eating clean" this week.

18. Keep slamming the door adjacent to my office.

19. Sigh, huff and act annoyed while waiting for me at the copy machine. It will make me take longer.

What a week I'm having!

I can't handle domestic problems. My stepson has decided, at the age of 12, to start the rebellious stage. I probably shouldn't give the details, but in a nutshell, he is faking sick to get out of school at least once a week, lighting matches (then lying about it), and running away down the street to the local KFC. When found, he had his backpack with him that contained a Gameboy, Gameboy games, a couple of books, 50$ and a steak knife. You know, all the necessities of life. He lives with his mom, so we are hearing about all of this over the phone, but my husband is all stressed-out and fit-to-be-tied. No one knows what to do. The first thing that comes to my mind is: Why don't you whack him with a newspaper and put him in the crate? Probably why I don't and shouldn't have kids. Ha.

On top of that, I can't find the energy to do the laundry, the dishes and generally get out of bed. I don't know if it's a touch of depression, or just being overwhelmed by life itself. The smallest tasks are frightening me. I have also had 3 iced mochas this week with regular milk. It's the only way to cope, I'm telling you.

Absolutely Unmotivated

To do anything. I keep reading all these blogs where people are working out with a vengeance, eating clean, losing weight and are just generally pumped-up and motivated. I am not motivated to do shit this week. I've been sleeping too much, eating too much and afraid to get on the scale. I've been eating all of my "intolerant" foods, therefore I'm grumpy, sickly and dragging my big, fat ass. I suffer from "workout burnout". I wish I was more like Skwigg and Yogagirl. For some reason I just can't think "fitness" and "Health" 24-7. I enjoy my fitness regimen of HIIT (occasionally), but I'll never have that trainer mentality full-time. I'm not sure why. I have extensive knowledge, it's just that I have too many days of not caring. There are times when I get into a specific yoga position on the floor and decide just to stay on the floor and take a nap. What is wrong with me?

In other news, I am obsessed with getting an iPod. Can't afford it right now, but I *really* want one. I think I want the iPod mini, but should I get it in lime green, or pink? I don't know. I really want a McDonald's hamburger, too. Just help me NOW.

Otter-licious!

It took me a while to post this, but here it is, my Otter necklace! Isn't it bea-u-ti-ful? I get so many compliments on it! Thanks Otter!! I am disappointed in how my hair doesn't look as blonde as it actually IS in this picture. Oh well, it was a mess anyway.

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.