Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Animal conversations... mostly one-sided, of course.

As you know- and if you don't, why aren't you taking notes?- we have four dogs. A German Shepherd and three Chihuahuas. Luna was our first and we refer to her as his girlfriend.

For your enjoyment- a photo!

it will all be over soon... just go to my happy place....

After years of being a good dog and listening to us when we tell her what to do, she's gotten it into her head to run to the front yard and across the street at people. She barks like a psycho, but she's a good dog and wouldn't bite anyone. The problem is the whole "across the street" thing because our street is fairly busy. In the old days, we used to leash all our dogs and walk all the way out to the backyard with them and wait on them... because we don't have a fenced yard.

Then all my health issues started and I can trust Gypsy off-leash. The Chis were a little testier because they don't listen quite as well as she does. Its all DG's fault too, because I train them and he un-trains them. Normally, I stand on the deck, overlooking the rather large backyard. There's a large pine tree on one side, blocking fast access to the front and then the driveway and our vehicles to the other side. Normally, that's enough blockage for anyone to react... except DG and his un-training.

Back when we had a Rottweiler (Kodiak, best dog EVER!), I trained him to simple, one word commands. "Sit", "Stay", "Down", "up", "come", "no", "Kisses", and "bang" for "play dead". And I did this for DG's benefit. Multi-word phrases confuse him more than long division. And what does he do to poor, yet genius-smart Kodiak?

"Sit down!"

"Stay there!"

"Get up!"

"Lay down!"

Kodiak took about fifteen seconds to process each command from DG, but he did figure it out. Not so with the Chis. They simply don't listen to him. When I say "NO!" or "STOP!" or even: "DON'T YOU DARE!", they stop what they're doing. All the dogs and sometimes people walking down the street.

In the last couple weeks, Luna decided to dart to the front of the house- with a rather small yard and a far-too-busy street. The other day, I was upstairs in a half-dressed mode (as I had just showered) when Luna took it upon herself to chase some religious door-to-door people. All the way across the street. One of our down-the-street neighbors was walking by on another day and she took off after him. She's not attacking anyone, just barking and wagging her tail so hard it has an effect on her running.

So I said, "That's it- she's going to be leashed! Its a pain in the ass, but its better than a Dead Luna."

Last night, DG had this conversation with Luna. Where I put in the ellipsis (the "..."), that's where he pauses as if waiting for her to answer.

"Why do you do that? Hmmm? ... Why do you run? ... You're going to have to get a leash... I know! You'll wear a leash and then the other dogs will laugh at you... because... because you'll be the only one on a leash and they'll think its funny. ... Yes they will! .... Yes they will! They'll think its funny! You'll have a leash..."

Then he disintegrated into a weird baby talk that sounded like: "Oh-boo-boo-doo-boo!"

Luna had puppies on June 30th and one of my online friends bought one of the pups. All the other pups went home two weeks ago. Hers is still here because she lives down south and we had it all worked out that my parents would take the pup to her, like they've done for us before. Even though DG is perfectly capable of taking the pup himself. Now, my parents would be leaving in two days. Today, DG says he can take the pup. Well, that's just great.

For the last week, I've told him to get one of our cat carriers out so I could clean it up for the pup (dusty, has cat hair in it). He finally got it out today while I was out running errands. He assembled it and cleaned it up. On the side is written: "Millennium Falcon" because when we got it, we had two kittens that he'd named Han Solo and Chewbacca. Har-har, right? About six months later, Han Solo became sick and passed away. We ended up with more cats, but that's a story for another time. The point is, it says "Millennium Falcon" and Han Solo is no longer with us.

After he got done wiping all the dust off the outside of the carrier, he said: "Jabba the Hutt has Han Solo. Get it? Get it!?" then he picked up the carrier and moved it around making "schwooosh-schhwoooosh" noises.

Oh, and for your pleasure, a photo of Martini. Because who doesn't love cute puppy photos?

Pretty as a picture, Handsome as a devil

and another one, because I think its cute.

Gypsy and Martini

So, DG is going on a trip. Now, I'm not going to blast all over the Internet where he's going, exactly, but obviously, he's going to North Carolina. It just so happens that the new owner is in NC right now, visiting some family. She was going to drive back home- to where my parents are actually ending up on their trip- to pick up the pup and then back to NC. But now its all worked out that since DG is literally driving past where she is now, he'll be taking the pup. Because I'm not telling you where they all are, these town names are made up. These may or may not be actual town names, but these are NOT the towns where she is, where he'll end up.

I sent her a message to ask where she was in NC and I told DG (again, NOT the real town).

Me: "She's in Jackboro."

DG: "Smackboro?"

Me: "JACKboro!"

DG: "Markboro?"


DG: "Jackville?"

Me: louder, more enunciation, then less enunciation: "JACK... BORE... OHHH! JACKBORO!!!"

DG: "Is that near Townville?"


He breaks out a nineteen year old road atlas. Nineteen years old! And he shows me the route he takes- going over Jackboro and near Townville to get to his destination which is near Fayetteville (real town name, actually). Obviously, in nineteen years, things have changed. I'm up on Google maps and he's holding that nineteen year old atlas.

Me: "Where do you go? Through Ohio, into the Virginias?"

DG: "Yeah, right here." *points at the old atlas map*

Me: "So, just take Highway [whatever number] to Greensboro and then down to Jackboro, then cut over to Townville and you'll be fine."

DG: "No, I won't, I need to be on Highway [different number] to get to [parents' house] from here."

Me: "That's not what you said-"

DG: "I go through Knoxville, you know, Knoxville, Tennessee!" (he was trying to match my level of frustration).

Me: "Fine! Do you go through Ashville?" I even pointed on his two-decade old map.

DG: "No, I go through KNOXVILLE!"

Me: "But, to get to [parents' house] you have to go through Ashville, then up to here [pointing at a town] then here and then past Townville!"

DG: "No, I go through ASHVILLE after Knoxville then up to here [pointing at same town]..."


Let's just say it was a long and frustrating day. So its all worked out. DG will meet up with my friend in Townville- which is just a bit out of his way, but wouldn't be if he took another highway instead of insisting on taking the original highway... Its all worked out and I don't feel like smothering him with a pillow anymore.

By the way, I got my very first hate-mail. I was told that I'm a sociopath and that they feel sorry for my son (I'd mentioned my son in a Regretsy comment) because his mother is obviously a schizophrenic. *waves at lurker* Also, upon reading this blog, I've also got my head so far up my ass that it warrants public exposure.

I don't really know what that means- because how much more public can I get? This is public blog, its open to public comments, and I've linked to it through my signature on several message boards, the Regretsy site (my screen name is the link) and there's a Facebook group. But apparently, this person (who has some issues with punctuation and spaces between sentences) is going to submit this blog to "fail blog" (which is a pretty funny website, if you need to waste some time, go on a read it- its one of those time-killer sites). I did reply to one of the emails (there were two- one calling me a mental patient and the other telling me I had some cranial-rectal issues) and said: "You'll have to be more specific, I do several blogs and I say a lot of things on Regretsy."

But, I'm still confused as to how I have my head so far up my ass because I post ridiculous conversations with my disabled husband, with his knowledge and permission. But hey, more readers are more readers and I can't complain about that, now can I?

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

A few conversations from today... (swear words inside)

I post on Regretsy as one of those smart-mouthed snark-bitches. That is, if you believe what other people say when someone else is wittier than they are and they can't come up with anything clever as a retort.

Today, Regretsy featured this post. I was the first comment. Now, over on Regretsy, we don't tolerate that whole "FIRST!!" bullshit that some other sites seem to either enjoy or ignore. Either way, no one who has ever posted there will post "FIRST!!" unless they're being ironic or it happens to play into the original post. That particular subject is about some kind of fetish involving heavy-duty knit sweaters. And since its Regretsy, my post was filled with snark and attitude. I didn't think I'd be first, but that doesn't matter either way.

This is what I said:

"I want to get that orange fuzzy thing for the disabled guy. He’s always bitching about being cold. No kink involved here, I just want to stifle the urge to smother him during the winter.

With that, I could have the best of both worlds- he’d shut the fuck up and I would feel like I was actually smothering him."

In less than a minute, I received THREE "thumbs down" clicks! I thought, "Damn, it wasn't THAT bad!" When I refreshed the page, I had more thumbs down clicks. I posted it on my Facebook- how I was thumbs-downed so quickly for such a silly comment. I don't care, I mean it doesn't hurt my feelings. Usually the thumbs-downers are a bunch of whiny, self-righteous people who swear by their "art" no matter how bad it is. But hey, being on Regretsy brings sales and if something sells, who cares how they found your link?

Some of my friends commented on my status with much hilarity because most of them were also of the Regretsy ilk. I read their comments out to DG and would check back on my "thumbs down" count. The highest I saw was fifteen.

DG said: "That's mah Fan Club."

On the other extreme, I posted this comment:

"Holy shit! I’ve never had a comment “hidden due to low rating” before! A banner day for me! Huzzah!

The disabled guy just said, “That’s my fan club.”

*high five* with asterisks!"

That one received (at last check) forty-four thumbs up clicks! So my fan club is doubly strong to his. (thumbs up and thumbs down cancel each other out so if you get fifteen thumbs down and sixteen thumbs up, it shows as +1).

Later in the afternoon, DG convinced me to join him at Wal-Mart. Not my favorite place to be. Too much walking, too little gratification. In the middle of our excursion, he asked which tulips I liked. I like all tulips. Tulips are tulips. He half-mumbled something about different kinds of tulips and that was all. About twenty minutes passed as we continued our shopping and then left.

As we were driving away, he said: "There were all colors. Orange, and purple. Not orange, that would be ridiculous." and he rattled off a few more colors.

Me: "How is orange ridiculous?"

DG: "For a flower its ridiculous."

Me: "Orange is a color found in nature. We have orange flowers in our backyard. We planted them." (which are not tulips, but still orange flowers)

Orange flower

DG: "Tulips aren't orange!" (except when they are)

And he left it at that.

For the rest of the drive home, he alternately "sang" and bopped his head to whatever imaginary music was in his head. If I looked over at him, he would stop (bopping his head, that is). If I continued to look he'd giggle almost maniacally. I had to swing by the grocery store to pick up some photos I had printed and he said, "I'm gonna let you go in without me."

I replied: "Thank the gods, because people can see you head-bopping."

He started to bop his head and sing: "Look at me! You can see me!" followed by more maniacal laughter.

Just now, as I was typing this, I was telling Ceej about it. He shook his head and said, "I don't think it was me. I was possessed!"

And he thinks orange tulips are ridiculous.