Sarcomical

I will put the hurt on you (a bedtime nightmare)...

The other night, as we were getting to bed and the dogs were assuming their regular positions (Lucy & Ricky on top of the bed, Shiloh under it), I crossed the room from my closet and saw something that troubled me greatly. One of the middle support casters under the bed was leaning crooked.

There is a good chance you are possibly already saying, So what? What a stupid thing to worry about. It's not like they are actually bearing the brunt of holding up your bed or anything; it's not like the entire unit is going to collapse; it's not like your bed will split in two...your bed sits on a wooden frame, those frakking wheels might as well be ornamental.

This is basically what my husband was trying to tell me.

However, what I heard was, That caster is the only thing keeping this bed one piece; it is the only thing standing between you and wood-splintered carnage. This bed is going to crr-reak in the middle of the night, and before you realize what is happening you will crush your dog with the very weight of your own selfish, too-busy-to-stop-and-fix-the-vitally-important-caster lumps of flesh. You will crush him and he will die and also you will have to move because how could you continue to live in a house where you killed your dog with your stupidity and carelessness and OH also your body weight? Now, GET UNDER THERE AND FIX IT YOU LOSER!

And so, because I could not be swayed with reason OR cookie bribes, I got down on the floor, sat facing the errant metal leg, braced myself on the carpet, and pushed it back into place with my foot. Aha, sweet safety.

EXCEPT.

Being down on the floor allowed me the opportunity to see the more precarious and more threatening BACK caster. It was practically making a right triangle with the floor. This was unacceptable. THE HORROR MUST BE PREVENTED! Of course, this meant I got down on my stomach and shimmied toward the middle of the underbelly. Now, mind you our bed is quite heavy, being an oversized King, and I could not get myself enough leverage to pull or push this leg back into place. Could you go lift that side of the bed up a little? I implored from under my one-foot prison.

This did not help.

And now, I was battling not only the goddamned caster but also my inner Freakoutometer, which was threatening to bubble and smoke as the floor seemed to begin pushing me tighter and tighter against the roof of my tiny compartment. Be cool, I thought. Just be cool. And I WAS cool. I managed to spin myself around underneath the bed and get myself in a position where I could brace my feet and puuuullllll. Voila! Straight as an arrow. And now...to simply get out. I started to wiggle backward and try to un-twist half-inch by half-inch, like some rewinding earthworm.

This was where my husband for some reason decided it would be a good time to ask over and over Can you get out? Can you get out? Can you get out? and I consequently told him to shut up!!! shut up!!! are you kidding me shut up!!! before I lost all memory of how to breathe correctly.

Yet somehow, as I clawed my way toward light and life, I was able to form this thought:
When I get out of here I am going to kick you in the kneecaps.

6 Things You Need to Know Before Watching This Video:

1. I do not usually sound like an 80-year old lady when I open my mouth as I do at the opening of this clip.
2. Lucy started doing...strange things...with her ball after she saw us maneuvering it like a soccer ball to keep it away from her. I think she tried to mimic our footwork? The first time I saw her do this I laughed probably very disproportionately to how funny it actually was. Maybe you will laugh disproportionately as well. BONDING EXPERIENCE!
3. I do not like Rachael Ray. But my dogs love her BOOscotti cookies. Dog Bellies=FTW. Grudge Against Annoying Levels of Pep and Superfluous Hand Gestures?=FAIL.
4. "You're not giving away our water pick!" ... "SERENITY NOW!!!" 
5. Sometimes there are crumbs in my toaster oven.
6. Ricky is mysteriously terrified of walking on the wood floor about 8.5 times out of 10.

(*feed reader folks, there is a video here)

Unfortunately not hypothetical...

Well, if you're a pet owner, you know that this question is presented to you on basis more regular than you would ever want to talk about in mixed company.

...I mean, after all, what IS the acceptable amount of time to let pass by before you become completely nonchalant about your dog sticking his tongue all over your face (READ: YOUR LIPULAR REGION) after seeing him lick his butt fervently for a solid 7 minutes?

I'm just saying. Is 30 minutes enough? Is 2 hours enough? All of whatever was going on there is just circulating around - let's be real here, there is no decontamination practice going on, he's not going to brush his teeth or swish and spit anything out of there.

The honest truth is, we wait until we can go into denial again. Which simply means we are crazy delusional. Because I guarantee you, if I saw a BABY sticking her hand in her diaper and then licking it, I would NOT be okay with that child getting anywhere near my face with that mouth until someone dipped her in a sanitation vat or at least got some sort of baby mouthbrush up in that situation.

Ew.

Life, as Taught Through Ice and Dogs

The dogs in the SarcomiHouse like ice cubes. They reeeeeally, really like them. Any time I open the freezer there's a click-clacking stampede across the kitchen floor, as if I were slow-roasting juicy steaks in there instead of tossing a few chips of frozen water into their mouths out of the bag of Home City Ice.

If you have ever lived with a dog, you've probably seen some version of this thing that Shiloh is most guilty of out of the three of them:  he will excitedly take his little chunk of ice over to the carpet, set it down, then nervously wander back into the kitchen (while attempting to not draw my attention), because he just isn't quite comfortable with the possibility that I might be giving out an even BIGGER! and BETTER! nugget of ice, even though everyone has gotten their ration and by now I'm just adding some to my glass for my sweet tea.

Last night, he did this particular thing, and I told him "Go! You already have yours!", which garnered a rather obvious lack of belief and further anxious peering at my hand nearing the big bag in that giant cold box where the melty dog biscuits apparently come out of. He didn't trust me. I don't know why; I'm a very trustworthy individual.

You do know, yes, that there is a certain someone named Ricky who lives here, correct? And that Ricky is the baby, and a spoiled brat who steals and will not share a toy or a blanket to save his life? Well, it seems as Shiloh's big ice cube sat on the carpet melting, Ricky - finished yet severely unsatisfied - could simply not take it anymore, and ran over and stole it just in time for Shiloh to turn, walk back for it, and then shoot me a "BUT MOM, WHAT THE HELL?!?" look.

Because I am alone in the house a lot a lot A LOT during the day, and because I have nothing else upon which to lavish the benefit of my maternal scolding, I without really thinking said, (and I swear to God, this was what I really said, even though it seems a little too convenient for a preachy post) "See what happens?!? What you have just isn't good enough for you and then someone else takes it."

Hm.

Immediately afterward I thought that was kind of funny because a) I really talk to the dogs entirely too much like Humans with Fur Who Answer Me with Words and Waggy Tails sometimes but hey I've come to grips with that and b) the concept is glaringly relevant and timely, and something The Husband and I have certainly discussed at some point or another, and more often recently it seems.

Don't neglect what you have (talents, relationships, possessions, positions, finances) in favor of pacing stupidly waiting for your perfect chunk of life to fall out of the box, while others are able to LIVE and enjoy what you already have. You'll end up with no treat at all. BITE INTO YOUR OWN CUBE!

p.s. Lucy is mad she wasn't in this story. She wants everyone to know she takes her ice cubes daintily from my fingers and then eats them quietly in the other room with no trouble like these STEWPID BOYZ. Also, these photos are from a few Halloweens ago (which some of you may recognize), and I swear I decided to dress them ironically for the good of getting the shots. Honestly.

What is Worse...

I'm about to ask you a question and then answer it with no pause for your feedback.

Just thought I'd prep you.

What is worse than unhappily discovering dog poop upstairs on the corner of the bedroom rug because one tiny (and apparently, delicate) brown chihuahua likely decided that -11° weather means it is too unbearably frigid to rest one's paws on the ground long enough for accomplishing the task oh...I don't know...OUTDOORS?

I'll tell you what's worse.

You now find yourself looking deeply into two watery and guilt-ridden, but otherwise manipulatively vacant, brown eyes and are painfully aware of how sadly well-acquainted you have become with the nature of your dog's...business...and this knowledge forces upon you a realization that something is amiss. Aha, that's it. And before you can rationalize that all you will receive in response is a more frantically-blank gaze, you hear yourself ask an embarrassed chocolate ball of hair:

"WHERE is the REST of it?"

(Who could blame the little guy, truly? Seeing them hobble around after a few seconds out there during the past two days is awfully sad.)

I have a fever & raw larynx, so look at this while I lay here dying...

p.s. taken just now

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

...and they think we're lying when we say he smiles when he gets excited

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

Behold, Le Ricky:

"Mommeh, where did your lap go? I cry for a place to cuddle. I weep for the legs which now have to hold up my body. Why don't you put that camera back into its bag, sit down on something squishy, and get a snack first because you are going to be there a while. Do not refuse me, Mommeh. You can not refuse me. Do you understand? Nod your head if you understand."

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

What I'm Not Going to Write Today

If I were to write today what's really working its way through my mind, or what my days have often consisted of recently, I'd probably say things like

mental shutdown
numb
uneasy moments
fogginess (i forget, i lose, i struggle)
this is back, isn't it? *shit*
depression
agonizing
hours lost in front of movies, staring at single magazine page, computer screen
trying to self-diagnose
thyroid?
childhood head trauma residual effect? (oh, the research!)
plain old mental snafu?
anxiety
emotional stab wounds from people i've trusted
husband diagnosed with chronic illness (births fears i never felt before)
finances = SUCK
this year is the year of The Suck
i'm not as steady as i should be
hate it appearing to be my choice
as if it's some emotional "game"
i could snap out of
really don't want to talk about it
tired of being in idle
not managing to move right or left
coffee beans and puppy tongues are bright spots
why the hell am i still doing this at 32?
angry yet sad
embarrassed
(online) peers seem to have moved beyond into semblance of adulthood
why would i be back here again?
sigh
dammit

...but since I don't really want to go into that (and because I still have happy and perfectly normal moments and don't want to be The Depressed She-Blogger), I'll post a photo of something happy and cute. Like a puppy. My puppy. Ricky. And how we greeted trick-or-treaters the other night:

(MOOO.)

technorati tags: NaBloPoMo

Some Things Friday #62: Purse-Whacking

*Don't miss the video at the VERY end of my dog that needs therapy.

Some Things I Love:

1. Lots of words that start with 'V'. For example...velour, vast, vanquish, velvet, vista, vampire, vilify, valiant... One of the exceptions to this rule? Vagina.
   
2. Soft, fluffy IKEA Flokati rugs. I would like to take a nap all over one. Right now.
   
3. Egyptian and other ancient art...it captivates me.
   
   Check out some of the permanent collection features at the Met.
   
4. Little food with toothpicks in it. Preferably colored toothpicks. More preferably, green.
   
5. Friday Hot Little Number of the Week: Ryan Dimple-icious Reynolds (mrawr)
   

Some Things I Hate:

1. Jell-O with pineapple in it. Or grapes. Or oranges. Or any fruit except for the glorious strawberry.
   
2. The cars with the blinkers that go reallyreallyreallyfast! like they're on crack.
   
3. Living in a subdivision - either give me hermitage in the country or the life-buzz of city dwelling, I'm so weary of this annoying dullness.
   
4. Thinking your period has stopped for an entire day, and then realizing suddenly the next day when you get back to work from lunch that no, it has, in fact, NOT. Then you have to go into the communal "special drawer" of storage in the bathroom and steal from someone else's stash. And it's not your brand. And you really like your brand. So the afternoon kind of sucks.
   
5. This commercial. The Husband came into the room last night to find out why I was suddenly crying with accompanying sobbing noises (I'm sorry, I was a little bit tired), and all I could tell him was to rewind the television. He watched it and said "Great, thanks. That was depressing." What can I say, we're suckers for a pouty face. And then we looked at our three and he said "...and just look how YOU GUYS don't appreciate us."
   

Some Things I Just Don't Get:

1. Why so many people love Larry the Cable Guy. (On a side note, the next person I hear say "Git 'r done!" is going to get whacked by my purse, old-bitchy-lady-style.)
   
   
2. Why everyone in the media is suddenly acting like Anna Nicole Smith was some sort of beloved American icon who we want to obsess over a month after her death. What's with the weird montages and the emotional backstories? I know it's very sad, and I know it's a trainwreck, but haven't we already seen enough? Does her life and what she did with it really warrant all of this?
   
3. People with Micky Mouse heads on top of their car antennas.
   
4. The appeal of the cold soup.
   
5. I've shown you this before (well, not this particular video, as this just literally happened two minutes ago), but I have no idea what Lucy's problem with the stairs is when she does this. As you will see, several times all she'd have to do is just OPEN HER MOUTH and take the toy off the step, but apparently that is too, oh I don't know...SCARY.
   (p.s. turn on your speakers)
   
   

Some Things Friday #61: Lucy's Edition

Lucy is very opinionated and a touch bitchy even at times (OH, DO NOT LET THE FACE FOOL YOU), but I love her. She is the only other girl in the house and we share a very special, although a bit codependent, bond. So when she told me that she wanted to do this week's Some Things list, how could I refuse her? And so...you should read the following as if Lucy had typed it, because she totally tried, but her toenails kept getting stuck in between the keys.
Some Things I Love:

1. squeaky firehose toy...hold on...ohmi--ohmigod where IS IT?!?
   
2. chewing on my feet
   
3. mommy's lap
   
4. cucumbers
   
5. flirting with my brothers ...what?

Some Things I Hate:

1. the vaccuum cleaner....i think it's trying to suck out my brain
   
2. the blowdryer...i think it's trying to melt my brain
   
3. ricky is a mommy-hog
   
4. mommy has these ridiculous little songs for each of us (me, my two stupid brothers, and that other furry thing with a long tail who poops in a box). and like, a KAMILLION nicknames that are so very embarrassing, like "Tiny Head" and "Woo Pie" and "Butt Munch". GOD.
   
5. running bathwater...i think she's trying to drown my brain

Some Things I Just Don't Get:

1. why did you stop playing with me? wait! i'm not tired yet! don't you love me anymore?
   
2. why i can't quite manage to get to that spot in my...uh...area
   
3. so what is the big deal? i tried telling you once, you wouldn't wake up, and the carpet is RIGHT HERE so...?
   
4. humans who do not think i'm prettifabulous
   
5. the swiffer sweeper...i'm not sure but i think if i get too close it's going to stuff me in a bag and shake me real hard.

"Swooshing Lucy" - My Monday Gift to You

*Fast-shutter photography put to no good use whatsoever.
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Some Things Friday # 53: If You Don't See the End You've Missed the Best Part (I'm Serious)

(Seriously, make it to the end and you'll be rewarded. Grandly.)

Some Things I Love:

1. French accordion music.
   
2. Rubbing my puppies' ears. They're so soft. It soothes me.
   
3. Root beer floats, baby. The foamier, the better. Did you know there's an A&W Root Beer Stand/KFC (yes, that's a "slash KFC" because someone thinks chicken and root beer mix well) near our house? By the way, if you use Barq's instead of A&W you are a freedom-hating psycho who wants the terrorists to win because all Freedom Lovers drink A&W. Barq's sucks ass. Oh no. I've tripped my "Must Have a Float" wire inside my brain. Now I'm all obsessing. Shit.
   
   
4. Switching it up and using a bar soap every once in a while in the shower. Blast the shower gels and body washes! You can't get more Old World than bar soap, my little friend.
   
5. Alan Freaking Cumming. I know. I KNOW. Say what you will. You don't have to understand it. You don't have to agree with me. (I'm not sure I understand it, either.) But I think he can be seriously hot and I can't help it. Now, just move along down the list and leave me and Alan alone.
   

Some Things I Hate:

1. Being pissy with The Husband even when I don't really want to. But it's so easy! For instance:
   Him: Okay, so I'm going to go back to work now.
   Me: Yeah. Fine.
   Him: I'll call you later, okay?
   Me: WHAT. the hell EVER.
   Huh???
   
2. Dry foggy goddam contact lenses. *squintsquint* *rubrub*
   
3. Dodo birds. Yeah, they're extinct. But they're ugly. So, BUH-BYE Dodo!
   
   
4. Coconut in chocolate. I hate the texture! It shouldn't be there!
   
5. When the puppy pukes cat shit all over the floor. Oh, I recognized the Puke Smile beforehand and rushed to pick him up. I grabbed. I ran. But I didn't make it. A trail resulted. I had a panic attack. (You do NOT understand how close I was to having a puked-up cat crap strewn about my body.) The Husband had to clean it up (naturally).

Some Things I Just Don't Get:

1. I only need to give you one today. It will satisfy all your needs. Trust me. This was just after the Ice Mountain guy dropped off our water and was driving away. Wait for it. Waaaiit for it. I don't know why he does this. If this doesn't make you laugh then YOU MUST BE DEAD. Be prepared. The cuteness and freakiness just might render you unconscious.

   
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Half-Week Haiku 39: Brought To You by the Number "4"

The Husband decided it was a good idea to take this picture of me sleeping last week on the couch when I felt like crap. (SEE my naturally down-turny mouth? GAH.) Lucy has always climbed up to me at night to get in my "Nook", as we call it. She's not happy if she's not there. Basically, I SPOON THE DOG. Except now, I have two dogs that like to cuddle (Shiloh does NOT), and only one Nook (what a goddam conundrum), which they fight over (yes, the snarly teeth come out when Ricky tries to steal Lucy's Nook), so what usually happens is that Lucy gets The Nook and Ricky sleeps between my legs. Yes. Shut up. It's more like, I make a "4" with my legs (STOP LAUGHING AT ME - it's my usual sleeping position and I AM NOT WEIRD) and he just HAS to climb in there or he acts all lost and "Where do I go?! Where do I go?!". What can I say? I'm the Fur Whisperer. Then the cat comes and sits his ass right next to my face.

Today's Haiku assignment is this: Tell me about YOUR sleeping habits. Do you snore (*cough*like my husband*cough*)? Toss and turn? Talk in your sleep? Sleep in a weird position? I'll go first.

late to bed am i but once there dead to the world burglar? earthquake? snoooooze.

Update: Oh, and look at how IMPORTANT and POPULAR I think I am sleeping with my cell right by my hand like that? Like anyone calls me except the husband, my mom, and my sister. Who do I think I am, Paris Hilton?

Half-Week Haiku 10: A Bodily Function

Oh no, I did not forget you today, loyal Haiku-sters. I delivered.

Following the lines of the recent post about strange Christmas gifts, here is a stocking stuffer we all got from my mother-in-law last year:

That is right folks, the damned thing poops chocolate balls.

Not to be outdone, my sweet little angel puppy Lucy, is scared shitless of the vacuum cleaner. I tried to tell you this before (see, "Things I am Confused About"). But perhaps you didn't quite believe me. As your bestest friend ever I feel obligated to let you know that I would never lie to you (unless of course it made me look much much cooler than I already am...) and so, here is the proof that's in the pudding...er...poop:

These were taken right after I vacuumed last.
Yes, she was ashamed and traumatized and shaking.
...Yes, I am the shittiest dog momma alive for posting these. But I scooped her up and told her I loved her after I captured it on camera. After flushing the poop down the toilet. Of course.

*Take your pick and haiku whatever inspires you. Go to it!