The short version? The amount of grace I possess is best compared to that of Dave's special sheep.
I'd like to do this post in the style of the late, great, Johnny Carson - namely, that I shall announce what lessons have been gleaned from today's debacles and then discuss the terrible awful that it took to learn such lessons. Because hindsight is 20/20 and all that.
Hindsight: Watch where you're going. Also, brusha-brusha-brusha.
Terrible-Awful: Every morning at 5AM, Fiance's alarm goes off and while he starts his getting ready routine, I stumble downstairs to let Mac out, feed the furry boys, and grab Fiance a cup of coffee from Hammy so that he can stay awake on his drive into work. This morning I got to the bottom of the stairs and managed to step in something squishy and cold. I slid a few feet. I knew I didn't want to turn the light on to see what I'd just stepped in, but I flipped the switch anyway.
Hairball. Further proof that on the inside, I am truly a dog person. Also further proof that Mondays go out of their way to just be mean, and further-further proof that shaving Bubba would be an epically awesome idea until he pooped in my shoes as retaliation. If I could only get him to sit still long enough to properly brush him once in a while maybe I could prevent this.
This is not Bubba. But my point is that it COULD be.
I can't begin to tell you how electric orange a Bubba hairball is once it's been half digested. I guess I was kinda surprised it didn't glow in the dark at the bottom of the steps.
Hindsight: Supa-Creeps better fear the power of a Doberman.
Terrible-Awful: Honestly this one kind of played out in my favor. Some dude was walking up and down the street trying to sell something. Which is not uncommon, but he had no truck and no uniform to give him any kind of credential other than super-creeper.
When people are selling something in the states, they knock on your door once. If you have decided they are a creeper and therefore do not answer the door, they will eventually go away. If there's a creeper in Mexico and he thinks you are home and just ignoring him, he will literally LEAN ON THE BELL until he gets a reaction out of you. In my case, that reaction was letting Mac out to bark and run down the steps at him (there's a gate to keep them separate, but it was enough to scare him). He left then.
Just so everyone at home knows the score for today that's Cats: -1, Dogs: +2.
Hindsight: If there is a safety feature which in no way inconveniences you, you should use it. Because it's for your safety.
Terrible Awful: I am apparently incapable of tying my shoes. Let's, just for a second, pair this with my inability to listen to Soulja Boy's Crank That without putting my hands up like Superman. Lastly, throw a treadmill into the mix. See where this is going?
This is going to me yelling "Supaman that OOOOOOOO NOOOOOOO" as I trip on the laces, fall without hands in front me to either balance myself or to break said fall, and get a 10 out of 10 from the judges in "Exfoliating my FACE with a Still-Moving Treadmill Belt" (It's a very competitive sport. We hope to see it reach the Olympics in 2014.) I tried to get back up and pretend like I meant to do that, even though no one was in the house to see me but the dog (who didn't judge... one more point for him) and cat (who was too busy staring at a tree out on the back porch, no points for apathy), but if I'm honest, that was damn lucky I didn't break something. As it is I have some battle scars. Which I would show you for journalistic integrity, but I'd have to shave my legs first and we all know that's not happening.
I know you know sometimes I embellish stories for the sake of a laugh.
You should know the above is all 100% true.
That little clip attached to a magic-stop magnet? It will be clipped to me before hitting the go button from now on.
This incident has lead me to decide that the treadmill will henceforth be named Snidely Whiplash. Which I guess makes me Nell. I can deal with that, so long as we're talking the cartoon version, and not the SJP horrific reincarnation to live-version from the 90's.
Hindsight: Leave him something he can digest.
Terrible Awful: We went out on Saturday night, and while gone, Mac decided to eat a sponge. But not so much eat it, as devour it whole (he was smart enough to tear the sponge half from the scour-pad half. Realized it was too much fiber for his diet I suspect.) How do I know he ate it whole if he ate it while we were gone?
Because Sponge Bob made a reappearance 100% intact this afternoon in our backyard. And Mac was SO, SO proud of it.
Where's your pineapple NOW, spongebob?
Which is a -1 for team dog really. 'Cause just... gross.
Nevertheless Dogs are still way ahead here. (Dogs: +2 Cats: -1)
This is not the first time Mac has eaten something he shouldn't. I'm starting to hope maybe his tummy works like a clam's and years from now he'll just cough up a bunch of pearls as a result of the books, puppy gates, pillows, Halls cough drops, money, shoes (including a steel-toe pair), lamp cords and crayons he's
Do you have a critter? What's the dumbest thing they've ever eaten/ done?
Share in the comments!
Random Section Time!
1. The Whirlpool Open was this past week in Monterrey. It's an international tennis tournament. Apparently Serena Williams was in it. Why is this worth mentioning? Because I hate tennis, and the courts for this open were within walking distance of the house.
Let me clarify - I don't hate tennis players. In fact, the tennis player who lived in the room right next to mine Freshman year is responsible for coining the phrase "KpQuePasa!" But I do hate tennis fans. Why? Because they ruin everything and they think they're entitled to do just that.
When I was still working at the College, there was a tennis tournament every year that would more or less shut the place down for the week it was in town. I had to fight to get the parking spot or even to move my car anywhere near my home OR my office. People would make rude commentary to me like I couldn't hear them. They never looked at you without their head at an angle where I could tell if they had boogers or not. My personal fave- walking home one day a woman who was walking in front of me kept turning and looking at me like I was going to mug her. Finally she mustered the courage to whirl around and say "can I HELP you with something?" Like, how DARE I be walking on the same sidewalk as her without a little white skirt or a cardigan tied around my neck
Ugh. Okay, so the point is I left the college and I was all "GOOD RIDDANCE TENNIS!" and then the Whirlpool Open happened and not only did it make traffic horrid, but the courts were right next to the Wal-Mart so you couldn't get in there to shop for, oh, I don't know, FOOD, and THEN. THEN the beeping. I don't know what the beeping was keeping track of. My best guess was anytime someone volleyed the ball a beep would be sounded. It was loud enough to hear from anywhere in the house, and it didn't stop for 6 days straight. In an effort to match the tennis snobs snobbery, I officially declare that the next place I live must be somewhere that tennis is illegal.
2. In an effort to soothe my battered soul today, I looked at shoes for the wedding. Wanna help me decide? Here's the top four picks, opinions welcome (though be warned I may ignore you completely. They are for my feet after-all).