and a lot of this:
while the dogs do a lot of this:
and this:
and this:
but not a lot of blogging.
Monday the winner of the Pay it Forward contest will be announced! There is still time to enter!
Statement: Because you caught me updating my Netflix queue at work, I have enough time on my hands to help you organize your Mortar, Concrete, and Grout Test Reports.
FICTION
Sure, I have a little time on my hands. I'm efficient. That doesn't mean I have time to do your job, too. Just to clear something up--when I helped you out a month ago clear off the landfill you call a desk, I wasn't setting up a standing date. Stop hinting that you could really use my organizational skills again. Buying me lunch isn't going to entice me back into the no man's land that is your office. It smells like onions and feet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a couple of hundred unread blog posts to attend to in my Google Reader. Good day, sir.
Statement: I enjoy coming home to find 3 or 4 pairs of underwear scattered about the house, sans crotch.
FACT
Obviously. Otherwise why would I leave my underwear on the very top of my tall dresser, easily accessible to any passing pitbull with a vertical leap of 6' or more? Clearly I am too good to wear any single pair of panties more than once.
Statement: Traffic signs displaying 'SPEED LIMIT 45' should be interpreted to mean 'drive as slow as you'd like, preferably 30 mph.'
FICTION
Surprising, I know. Even though one of my headlights burned out last week so I am forced to drive with my brights on to avoid a ticket until I can convince Steve to help me replace the bulb, know that I would be driving with my brights on behind you even if it this wasn't the case. Because I'd like to be home at 5:45 on a Friday evening, not crawling behind your slow ass, watching as you gab on the phone and toss your cigarette butts out of the window. You probably can't tell because my bright lights are in your rear view mirror, but I'm giving you the finger.
Statement: I would kick ass at Wheel of Fortune.
FACT
POLYNESIAN RESTAURANT. Got it.
PLUS I would not be a greedy spinner, risking bankrupting myself while trying to up my winnings for the round. I would be content win a couple thousand each round, and really clean up in the 'toss up' rounds. I wouldn't scream or lose my cool when I landed on a big money space, either. I'd calmly collect my cardboard pie piece which represented a trip to New Mexico, and laugh all the way to the bonus round. Which I would win. Then I would give Pat Sajak a high-five and smile at Vanna as she opened the door to the brand new Chevy convertible I had just won. I'd pretend I was driving and honk the horn as the program faded to commercial.
Statement: You can win cool stuff just by commenting on this blog.
FACT
Click here for details.
...while the older one was a bit condescending.
The owner was a real bitch, though.
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Anywhoo, last Friday while I was busy giving her an award for her so-hilarious-I-almost-peed-my-pants-that-one-time blog, Dolce was busy giving me one. Awesome! Validation, how I crave thee...
To prevent my Fabulous Crown from being snatched from my head as I cry and run stumbling from the catwalk, scalp bleeding and mascara running, I am to list 5 of my addictions, and pass it along to 5 other fabulous bloggers.
My addictions:
1. Tetris - Steve has two bathrooms in his house; one is the regular, public bathroom and the other one I call the 'poopy bathroom' in my head because it is in the master bedroom and this is where I go when I need to see a man about a horse. In addition to the Maxim magazines, there is a Game Boy. I have sat there, pants around my ankles, for upwards of 45 minutes playing Tetris and trying to beat his high score. I have been as of yet unsuccessful, but maybe I'll make some chili this weekend and get in some quality time with the Game Boy.
2. Serial novels - I cannot pass up a book series. Sometimes this is good; the Dune series, the Chronicles of Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Harry Potter, etc. Some times this is not so good. See: Clan of the Cave Bear. The first book was good alright, but the series quickly devolves into soft core housewife porn. I couldn't stop, though. I slogged through to the end of the series, however, and towards the end it seemed like every other page was a mammoth on human rape scene. When I finally finished, I felt dirty.
3. Socks - I need to have socks on ALL THE TIME. Even if I kick them off during the night, I have a hard time falling asleep without socks on. These little piggies get cold.
4. Karaoke - Karaoke is like a drug to me. Once I sing one song, I want need to sing another, and another, and another, until I'm signing up for songs under various pseudonyms in a desperate attempt to trick the DJ into letting me sing more songs, boasting proudly that "karaoke is 2% singing ability and 98% song choice," and loudly promising to vomit on the next person who sings "Strawberry Wine."
5. Biting my fingernails - Hi, my name is Sarah and I am a nail biter. It's disgusting, I know, but I CAN'T STOP.
I'm passing this along to the following bloggers:
Katie @ save the pitbull, save the world because I am in awe of all the fabulous work she's done with her adorable pitties, Luce and Mushroom.
LBluca77 for her fabulous bacon eating abilities.
BrazenBareToe for pointing me in the direction of the torture fabulous experience that is NaNoWriMo.
Dolce @ La Dolce Vita for her fabulous ability to make my co-workers doubt my sanity as I laugh out loud not-so-quietly at my desk.
Finally, to Nilsa @ SoMi for organizing and hosting the fabulous BlogSecret.
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Ok, so the first Bad Mutha Fudruckers' Pay it Forward Give Away.
The prizes: A t-shirt and two coozies from Wilmington's Most Awesome Dex And Ernie Friendly Bar, The Barbary Coast.
Your eyes are not deceiving you. Both Scooby Doo meets Batman and Stranger than Fiction are being offered for the low low price of just $9.99.
I just bought Superbad and The Darjeeling Limited from Netflix for $5.99 each. But Scooby Doo meets Batman?!? Interesting premise, I'll have to admit.
I am full of questions: Does Velma pull Batman's mask off after they track him back to the Batcave? Did they follow the tire marks of phosphorescent bat guano left by the Batmobile? Would Bruce Wayne still be free to stalk the evil-doers of Gotham if it weren't for those meddling kids? If I can't come up with suitable answers I may have to spend the $10 just to slake my curiosity.
Stranger than Fiction for $9.99, though; that is a pretty sweet deal.
Dear You,
I miss you. I considered taking a semester off before changing
schools because of you.
You're leaving for South America and there is a very
good chance that you will never talk to me again.
We can both lie and say
that we'll keep in touch, but neither of us has enough of what the other lacks
to keep things going on.
I'm realizing more and more how perfect we
are for each other. We are alike enough that I don't fear
anything with you,
and you fit perfectly in my arms. I've never slept as well as that first night
next to you.
And I've never had such a long walk as the one from your room
to the train station that day.
I bring your walls down. And you help me
fortify myself. It works. It works like really nothing else I've ever
felt.
I'm not going to say it's love, because for the first time I understand what
love is about. It's not about
love at first sight. It's about seeing
potential. Enough potential to take all of the risks that would arise.
I
guess what I'm trying to say is: I'd wait two long South American years for you.
I think my blog is going to join Maxie's and go renegade. I'm participating in NaNoWriMo and the 2500 words a day that are going into my crap novel are sucking all of the life out of my blog. I can't seem to get it together enough to write a coherent, let alone mildly entertaining post.
When I arrived at the breeder's home, I was escorted down to the basement that had been converted into a dog room. Right away, Garp, then 'Tank,' ran up to me and started tugging on my scarf and running between my legs. I was smitten. On the ride home, he laid in the passenger seat of my tiny Honda with his head in my lap. I renamed him 'Garp' after one of my favorite John Irving novels. When we got home, Ernie immediately took Garp under his wing as a pit bull in training.
'Stay' was a challenge, because he didn't like to be much more than an arm's length away from either me or Ernie. He took to the halter lead really well and was soon walking politely on a leash. Garp loved Ernie and the two of them would wrestle for hours. I later found small puncture wounds around Ernie's neck where he had let Garp drag him across the living room.
Living with a deaf dog had its challenges and rewards. You cannot be a lazy dog owner with a deaf puppy; no calling out "Hey, get out of the garbage!" I had to physically pull Garp's head out of the garbage when he started digging around in the trash. I was afraid to let him off of the leash anywhere because unless he was looking right at me, there wasn't much I could do to get his attention. My stepdad helped me build a vibrating collar for him out of a remote control car motor, which helped a little bit, but wasn't strong enough to wake him out of a sleep. Letting him out of his kennel was always a trip, because he missed all the audio clues that I was home, like car crunching up the gravel driveway or my keys in the lock. He'd usually be asleep, and I'd open up the kennel and reach in a goose him. He's wake up and immediately start crying with excitement. Perhaps a little cruel, but very entertaining.
Garp didn't usually wake up during the night; he didn't hear the squirrels scampering over the roof or the cats fighting outside that usually woke Ernie up. He'd stretch out in a great white lump at the bottom of the bed and sleep until I woke him in the morning. One night, I woke up to sounds coming from the kitchen. Bleary eyed, I looked down at the foot of the bed. Garp appeard to be passed out as usual. Ernie was asleep on the pillow next to me. I could still hear the sounds coming from the kitchen. I lay in bed, listening. The sounds continued.
Up until that point, I'd harbored a secret fear that, in the event of an intruder, I'd be frozen solid by my fear and be unable to move. This night, however, I got up and grabbed the closest thing I had to a weapon--a knitting needle. Waking Ernie up, I walked down the hall and turned the corner into the kitchen. My heart was pounding and I was absolutely certain I'd see a masked man rooting around my house. As I turned the corner and peeked into the kitchen, however, I saw Garp with his head in the sink, licking the dirty dishes from dinner. What I thought was Garp sleeping at the foot of the bed was actually my down comforter I'd kicked off in a fit of restlessness.
My plan had always been to keep Garp until a friend, S, graduated seminary and moved into his own house. S had flown up to Michigan (where I lived at the time) and had met and fallen in love with Garp. It was the perfect situation, I thought. S would get an awesome dog, Garp would get an awesome home, and I could still see Garp and keep tabs on him. Unfortunately, S was offered the opportunity to go to South Africa for a year and wasn't able to take Garp. I was devastated. I knew I couldn't keep him forever, but it was going to be hard to find a home for Garp that I'd feel comfortable leaving him in.
I put out feelers at my vet's office, the groomer's, the doggie day care...nothing. The lady at the doggie day care offered to board him for me, but I couldn't imagine leaving him over night at the kennel night after night. Garp was a people dog and needed to go someplace where he could get all the attention he needed.
I finally chanced upon a Craig's list ad. A young gay couple was looking for a dog; they had just bought a house and were particularly interested in a deaf dog, because one of the guys, Z, was deaf. I exchanged a couple of emails with Z and agreed to meet him at his house with Garp. I met Z and his partner at their cute little brick two story house. They had already installed a 6 ft. privacy fence in preparation for a dog. Garp behaved beautifully, and I was able to show the guys the hand signals for all of his tricks, which had expanded to include 'off of the couch,' 'get over here now,' and 'move out of my way.' We agreed that I'd bring Garp back that Saturday for a trial weekend.
I bawled my eyes out all the way home. This monster of a lap dog had grown on me. I walked he and Ernie down to the Dairy Queen for one last vanilla cone. Snuggled in my bed with him one last time. Saturday morning came. I collected all of his favorite toys, his halter and leash, and a bunch of treats. I loaded Garp into the car and drove him to Z's. They were so excited about Garp; they showed me the bed they'd gotted and all the new toys they hoped he'd like. Trying not to make a scene, I told them to feel free to rename him; it didn't much matter what you called him because he couldn't hear you anyway. I showed them again how to fit the halter lead. I gave Garp a final hug and walked quickly out of the gate. I looked back, but he didn't. He was busy picking through the new toys he was being offered.
Z sent me an email that Sunday afternoon to let me know they were really excited about having Garp and had agreed to keep him. He thanked me for giving Garp a chance and for giving him a good start. That was 2 years ago, and Z still sends me updates and pictures of Garp, now 'Prince.' He looks happy and healthy, and is absolutely doted on.
**Warning to all you northerners currently experiencing cold/wet/icy/snowy weather. Graphic descriptions of mild North Carolina autumn to follow.**
I tried to dismiss this first loss as a fluke, but during a rematch he spanked me again. I had the lead going into the second half, but he shut me down with an 11th hour word blitz. He is convinced I under-estimated him, but in reality, I over-estimated myself. I sadly resigned myself to a future devoid of Scrabble wins.
Until...
Scene: Sunday, around 11:00 am. Rather than watch yet another episode of "Snapped" (my new obsession), I challenge Steve to a Scrabble rematch. It's about 65 degrees and sunny, so we headed outside and squared off across the Scrabble board in dueling wheelchairs, the dogs napping at our feet.
"This must be what it's like in a retirement home," Steve mused.
Stop trying to distract me. Game on.
I came out strong with "EXCUSE" for 20 points. He answered with "ROOKIE." The battle raged on, until Steve challenged my "AB" for a triple word score. Vindicated by the On-line Scrabble Dictionary, I challenged his "OZ" and eeked out a 10 point win. IN YOUR FACE, Steve.
At least until next time.
Striking Distance
This is one of my favorite books, and I didn't know there was a movie made of it until yesterday. Is it weird to say that Dustin Hoffman was kind of attractive when he was younger? Because by the end of the movie I had a crush on him. Faye Dunaway is in this movie and is supposed to be this beautiful woman, but all I see is Joan Crawford. Watch the movie, but seriously, read the book. Little Big Man is like Forrest Gump, but with Indians.
Bad Mutha Fudruckers rate it: 6
I've seen this movie in the "4 for $20" bin at Wal-Mart like 50 times, but I never picked it up. Mistake. This movie is way funny, and Christopher Walken as J-Man the barfly is hilarious. This movie is worth watching, if only for Jack Black's hair-do. I want a shiny white horse named Corky, too.
Side note: I would totally buy VaPOOrize. Heck, I'd even buy a can for Steve's neighbors.
Bad Mutha Fudruckers rate it: 7.5
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
I love this movie. It makes me cry every time. I love watching the arc of Clementine and Joel's relationship in reverse. I hate her gross hair, though. And I hate that he sleeps on a pull-out couch. Now I really want to take a train to Montauk and walk along the beach in the snow. Oh, and Elijah Wood plays yet another creepy character that you really just want to punch.
Bad Mutha Fudruckers rate it: 9
I put this in my Netflix queue at Steve's suggestion, and it arrived just in time for my Quarantine Movie Marathon. I've been an Ed Norton fan ever since Death to Smoochy, and he does not disappoint in this movie. There are some pretty disturbing scenes, including the obligatory prison shower rape scene and a "curb stomping." **shudder** Fairuza Balk, the girl with the coolest name ever (in my mind I call her Vercua Salt, but that is besides the point) sports a punk Hitler haircut.
Bad Mutha Fudruckers rate it: 8.5
What a slut.
...until people started pulling off my bacon bits and eating them.
We started out the night at a friend's house, where he served us "springbok" shots (1 part Creme de Menthe and 1 part Amarula) which looked disgusting but tasted like delicious mint chocolate chip ice cream.
There, Steve got beat up by Boxxy Brown:
There were a lot of awesome costumes downtown.
That's all for now; more to come. Happy Monday!
