Peace out, Ninjas

I'm leaving work early today and I won't be back until Monday. Which means I'll be doing a lot of this:

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!

Who writes checks anymore, anyway?

One of my best friends is staying with me for a month until she leaves for France, so I've been trying to keep the house in a semi-orderly state. Lucky for me I've found a couple of cleaning ladies who don't mind working for cheap.

The younger one was pretty gung-ho...

...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...

Now I'm supposed to give it to 5 other Uber Amazing bloggers. You should, like, totally be reading these blogs if you aren't already. So here they are, in a particular order which I will not divulge:

Kate at New Life in South Dakota because I think it is Uber Amazing how she's taken control of her life, and I always find her posts inspiring. PLUS she has a cooking blog which is new but still ROCKS.

Dingo at As I was Saying because of her Uber Amazing photoshop skillz. Yes, with a Z because they are that amazing.

Crissy at Crissy's Page because it is the first blog I read in the morning to reward myself for making it to work yet another day. Also she is an Uber Amazing Hot Mommy Blogger.

Lisa at Lemon Gloria; a blog I've just started reading but is hilarious and Uber Amazing.

Ben at No Ordinary Rollercoaster because his lunch box rivals mine for it's Uber Amazing-ness. Also I hope he will take me on a date.

P.S. Don't forget about the contest! You don't even have to have a blog (or a pit bull) to win!

For Daniellie

Sorry this is about a week and a half late, but you know how it is...

It was a fluke, he says

Ok, first up is some bloggy business. If you, like me, have a less-than-private blog and would like to post something absolutely anonymously, Nilsa at SoMi is organizing an anonymous blog swap. By last count there were 60 bloggers participating, and I know I'm looking forward to it. Publish date is the 18th, I think, so there is still time to join.

Now, on to the real news. I finally beat Steve at Scrabble. I attribute it to the power of positive thinking. He's beaten me twice before, but this Sunday I finally got my first win.

**Warning to all you northerners currently experiencing cold/wet/icy/snowy weather. Graphic descriptions of mild North Carolina autumn to follow.**

I'm not really a competitive person by nature. I played one sport in high school, softball, and even then I either played in the outfield or sat the bench. Board games, however, are my jam. Pictionary is my favorite, but I've been known to play a mean game of Taboo, Trivial Pursuit, or Cranium. When Steve challenged me to a game of Scrabble a couple of months ago, I thought I was going to impress him with my mad vocabulary skills. What actually happened was that he blew me out of the water with 10-point "Q's" and his domination of the "Triple Word Score" spaces.

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.

Monkey Plague?

Am I going to have to stop reading Crissy's blog? Because I have come down with the Monkey Plague of the Eye, internet friends. I'm so grossed out by this that I can't even comment on the election results, other than to say I am proud, excited, relieved, and humbled. I'll be away from my desk at work for a couple days, which is where I do most of my blogging, so talk amongst yourselves and I'll be back soon to give you the run down.

Here's a little Dexter porn to tide you over.

What a slut.

Mixed Bag

For your Friday enjoyment, a couple of random office pictures.

Dexter, stop distracting me. Some of us have to work for a living.
**bonus points if you can spot the office plant I stubbornly refuse to water**


Coworker: Hey, Sarah, do we have any copier paper?
Me: None at all.

Enjoy the weekend!

Sometimes good things happen

Yesterday was much better than the day before. At least, there weren't any cops waiting for me when I got home and the house was still locked up. Sweet.

Also, Julie and I picked up our back-up Halloween costumes:


We laughed at each other for about 20 minutes in Joann Fabrics.

Anyway, the BF mentioned that I should blog sometimes about the good experiences I have with the dogs out in public. I tried to explain that it would be boring to read about how I walked the dogs and someone didn't tell me how viscious my dogs are. However, in the interest of fairness, I'm going to give it a try. Here goes...

• Saturday we were sitting outside at the Dock Street Oyster Bar. This place is very Dex and Ernie friendly and our waitress always brings out a bucket of water for the dogs. Two guys were sitting at the table next to us, and one of them came over to pet the dogs and mentioned that his pit bull had been hit by a car and died 2 weeks ago. He told us they were out in the country and his dog had followed a car 2 miles out to the highway and had gotten run over. We offered our condolences, and then the guy asked the dogs' names. He was a little taken aback when we told him; his dog's name was Dexter, too. What a coincidence.
  
  
• Then we went to The Barbary Coast for some beers and some pool. As soon as we walked in, Dex and Ernie were fawned over by some drunk ladies at the bar. Dex made a bee-line for the treats behind the bar, and Ernie was busy giving everyone high fives. Several people commented to me how well behaved the dogs are, and that they wish they could bring their dogs out in public. Later on, a guy brought in his pit bull with the biggest head I have ever seen on a dog in my entire life. He (the dog, not the owner) and Dex had a blast sniffing butts and guarding the front door together.

So there you have it. A completely positive post. A little bit boring, too, but I'm too busy stressing about my Halloween costume and the upcoming NaNoWriMo to come up with much more.

I didn't check the crawl space

Yesterday was not a good day, internet friends. I came home from work to find 3 police officers on my porch and the front door wide open. My first thought was that something had happened to the dogs. As I raced up the porch steps, Dex came waddling out of the front door. Before they could get a word out, I asked the officers if there was another dog here. They told me they had put Ernie in the spare room because they weren't sure how friendly he was.

The police officers said that they had received a call from a neighbor that my front door was wide open. When they arrived, both dogs were in the house, and nothing seemed amiss (other than the cushions being off the couch, but the dogs do that all the time). Either I didn't close the door all the way when I left in the morning, or someone came in to the house and the dogs scared him off. I'm 99% sure I locked the lock on the doorknob, but I know I didn't deadbolt it. The officers walked through the house with me, checking behind every door, in every closet, and under the beds. Once I was satisfied nobody was there and nothing was missing, I packed up the dogs and went to a friend's house.

During the whole ordeal, I was mainly upset that something could have happened to the dogs. I'm surprised they both stayed in the house (which is not to say they didn't go roaming and come back, but it was a little chilly yesterday). They could have been hurt--shot or kicked by some desperate drug addict. I thought back to the guy who cut my grass a couple of weeks ago. What if they had tried to attack the police officers as they came in the house? I wouldn't blame them if they did, but others might not have been so understanding.

It's got me really shaken up today; I didn't sleep very well last night and I'm dragging ass today at work. I just want to curl up with a mug of hot chocolate in the middle of an Ernie and Dexter sandwich. I'm proud of the boys for being so good and staying close to home, but I feel like I've let them down by not keeping them safe.

The one where I touch chicken guts

Internet, meet my dinner. Dinner, say hello:


As I was trolling the ghetto Food Lion yesterday for dinner ideas, I came across whole young chickens on sale. Bingo! A few potatoes and some green beans later, I had a meal plan. Unfortunately for the chicken, he had yet a few more indignities to suffer before retiring to the cleansing retreat of a 350 degree oven.

First, since I bought him at 2:30 and I was determined to eat dinner by 8:00, I quick-thawed him in some warm water until I could pry his legs apart and pull out the neck/gizzards/other disgusting organs I cannot name from his body cavity. Guts disposed of, I mounted him on an upright chicken roaster and rubbed him down with olive oil, black pepper, sea salt, and cayenne pepper, paying special attention to his underarms.

At the suggestion of a neighbor, I decided to give the beer can method of chicken roasting a shot. I opened a beer, poked some holes in the can, poured about half of it out, and sat the chicken down on the beer can. The chicken looked kind of uncomfortable.

We gave him a last drink, then retired him to the oven for 2 hours.


He was delicious.

Now, for a gratuitous picture of the boys.

A couple days late and a few dollars short (pit bull edition)

So I missed out on Wednesday's Vlog Day, because I am behind the times and also I suck a little bit. So to make up for it, I'm posting some videos of the dogs wrestling. First up, we've got the dogs wrestling in the hole in the middle of the yard. Please be advised, the dogs may sound like they are killing each other, but I promise you they are just playing.

Next, Ernie gets the zoomies and Dexter does a face plant (but shakes it off like a truly Bad Mutha Fudrucker).

And finally, Dexter gets the wiggles.

Enjoy your weekend!

Crabs!

Last night the neighbors had a 3 hour screaming match. From what I could gather as I sat on my front porch with a glass of wine a book and pretended to read, He's been talking to some other girl who means nothing to him, and She's been talking to several guys who may or may not be her cousins. I'll let you know how it ends. Hemo is on the shit list for peeing on the dogs' leashes, but look what I found in my backyard:


A crab spider! Well, Steve calls them crab spiders but I call them pirate spiders because to me it looks like they have a skull painted on their bellies. I've been wanting one of my own ever since he pointed a baby one out to me on his porch.

What Bad Mutha Fudruckers do (pt. 1)

I'm not sure how, but the BF has acquired 2 wheelchairs. I'm pretty sure he hasn't been mugging cripples, but I'm not asking any questions. All I know is, on warm afternoons after we've had a couple of beers while we wait for the coals to get hot, we bust out the wheelchairs.

Sometimes (ok, one time) we attempted to have a chariot race with Ernie supplying the horsepower; unfortunately Ernie was more interested in licking faces than pulling wheelchairs, so I ended up running in front of the wheelchair getting Ernie to chase me while Steve sat and enjoyed the wind whipping through his hair at 0.5 mph.

I think the kids playing basketball down the street enjoyed the show.

Most of the time, however, we just sit around and take turns trying to do wheelies on the "good" wheelchair. So there is a lot of this:

And this:

And finally this...



I would help you up, but first let me snap a few pictures.

...which is why we only play Wheelchair Wheelies on the grass.

Dexter hearts Tyra Banks

All those Saturday mornings watching ANTM marathons have not been wasted on the dogs. They've learned to make subtle, but crucial, differences in their poses during photo shoots to give me a wide variety of shots. My friend's dog, Desi...not so much. She's sticking with what she knows.


For Dex, it's all in the face.

Happy Friday!

:(

Sorry about the lack of a Monday post, internet friends. We went to a wedding Sunday night that was an hour and half away, and this Bad Mutha Fudrucker didn't feel like going to work Monday morning. Instead, I did some cleaning up around the house. By cleaning up, I mean that I drank Miller Lite and ate dry Crispix out of the box while I waited for the current load of laundry to be dry. Also I watched the special features on my Lord of the Rings Special DVDs and laughed along with my good friends Dominic Monoghan and Billy Boyd as we recounted that time Orlando Bloom fell out of his canoe. Hilarious!

I am a dork.

I took some sweet pictures this weekend, too. I got my hands on a sharpie and gave Steve a "I Heart Recycling" tattoo. Ernie got a skull and crossbones tattoo. I took pictures of wheelchair wheelies and wedding dances that I'd love to share with you, but sadly my camera cord is sitting on Steve's desk and not in my purse. So no pictures for you. Ok, maybe one.

With help like this, it's no wonder I never get any laundry done.

Pirates pay for drinks with dubloons

It is the first day of October and I am getting way excited about Halloween. I usually make my costume each year, and in the past I've been:

a member of Sparkle Motion (okay, I didn't make this one)

Frodo Baggins

a mermaid

Roxy of the Misfits

One year I went as a pirate and paid for all my drinks with Sacagawea dollar coins that I called "dubloons." I thought it was hilarious and the bartenders thought it was annoying. This year I think I'm going to go all "Eagle vs. Shark" and be a Great White Shark. Even though I hate sharks and I am even afraid of them in the pool. Seriously. When I jump off of the high dive I haul ass to the ladder because I am just SURE someone has opened the underwater gate and let the sharks out. It's going to be an awesome costume, though.

Speaking of sharks and pools and being crazy, I have this reoccurring nightmare about sharks and pools. In my dream, my mom drags me and my sisters to see Jaws, who has been captured and is being kept in the pool by our house. Well, she really only drags me because my sisters are all about it. I beg and beg and try to convince her that it is a BAD IDEA, but we go anyway. One by one, my sisters keep leaning over the side of the pool and falling in, and I have to keep jumping in and saving them. Over and Over. All Night. Whenever I have this dream I wake up exhausted and mad at my mom. Come on, Mom! I warned you. Sharks+kids=Worst Idea Ever. Jeez.

I also frequently have a dream where my mom makes me live under the stairs a la the Dursleys and Harry Potter, and won't let me have any of the brownies she just made. Which is weird, because my mom would never deny me brownies. She is a very nice lady.

I think I'll go to JoAnn Fabrics this weekend and get some supplies.

Arr, pirate bars!

Let me preface this post by saying I don't only take the dogs to bars. We go other places, too. Like the beach, the lake, charity dog walks, etc. But it's much easier to take pictures of your dogs when they are 6 feet away from you being cute while you enjoy a beer than it is to take a picture of them while you are swimming away from them and trying not to drown. Also the dogs are like my kids, and while it's frowned upon to bring your kids to the bar, people seem to really enjoy having Bad Mutha Fudruckers at the bar.

Dex made it back safe and sound on Friday. He had a great weekend with his mom, road tripping and hanging out with Other Ernie, Danielle's mom's chihuahua. To celebrate his return, we took the boys to The Barbary Coast, a little hole in the wall bar downtown that is Dex and Ernie friendly. It's definately an interesting place; here are some examples of some of the art work:

Dex was totally in his element:

He even got "behind the bar" privledges:

Now all I've got to do is teach him to grab me a beer while he's back there.

Ernie doesn't have as much fun, because of the Loud Noises coming from the pool tables and the fact that I was constantly moving. He likes his special people to Stay Put where he can keep an eye on them so they Don't Escape.

But then no one had fun because Dex and Ernie got grounded for barking at dogs outside of the bar:

..and I couldn't play pool because I had to keep a close eye on these Mutha Fudruckers. So I took this picture:


Then it was time to go:

I got home and had pasta with meat sauce and dripped pasta sauce all over my shirt. I am a messy eater.

Dexter-shaped hole

Ernie and mailman are not friends. Yesterday, just as I was walking out of the door to take Ernie for a walk, the mailman was walking up the steps. Ernie started barking. Not his "Hey, I'm way excited to see you" bark, either. He busted out his "Holy smokes some shit's about to go down" bark. I pulled him back inside while my bills and SuperSaver flyer were delivered. I don't want to piss the mailman off even more. He's already screwing with my Netflix. I'll never get to watch the third "The Future is Wild" disc if I get on his badside.

Dexter is in South Carolina this week with his mom, who is on a break from her job as a stewardess on a yacht named Wanderbird. I know he's having a blast, but the house is a little empty without him. The days are longer for Ernie, since he has to spend the work day at home alone, drinking rum and barking at the mailman. Hemo prefers to spend the day sunbathing on the porch.

My bad. Just don't get run over.

On the upside, he's got more free time for finding and eating underwear.

To give myself a little Dex fix, and to prove that Ernie is not the sole target of my abuse, here are some pictures of Dex (who views the camera as a torture device) with his moose.

Hahaha, there is a moose on my back!

I grow weary of this game.

Um, he fell off. Not my fault.

You have compromised my dignity. Now give me a treat.

P.S. Please excuse the filthy floors. I do mop quite a bit, but when we get rain for a couple days in a row, the floors suffer.