I hate them. I can't stand them. I think they are gross. Even MY armpits. I can't look at them, and I don't like people looking at mine. Eww...
C'mon.... you know they are awkward.
 |
| Diane Lane & Jon Bon Jovi, 1985 |
Showing posts with label WTF?. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WTF?. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monday, April 1, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Playing with Food
About 1 year and 4 months ago…. My boss and I decided to do a little experiment. Just like many other offices in America, the lunchroom can be a temptation room of sugary indulgences. I’ll admit, I love baking so often I am the culprit… however in October of 2011, my office had a box of store-bought donuts and mini autumn inspired cupcakes.
Both of us being a bit health conscious and knowing very well that these sweet treats were filled with fats, corn syrup and preservatives… we wondered….
We set them on a plate with the day’s date, and put them in a spot where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Months went by…. Months…. And then a year….
I took a nutrition class in college and if I learned anything it was to fear preservatives. Food should expire! A little lesson here….Preservatives can be categorized into three general types: antimicrobials that inhibit growth of bacteria, yeasts, or molds; antioxidants that slow air oxidation of fats and lipids, which leads to rancidity; and a third type that blocks the natural ripening and enzymatic processes that continue to occur in foodstuffs after harvest.
I think it’s safe to say that the donut and cupcake are highly preserved. Imagine what your body goes through to process this “food”. Gross. I’m not saying I won’t eat another donut in my life (maple bars call to me)… but seriously…..WTF?
Both of us being a bit health conscious and knowing very well that these sweet treats were filled with fats, corn syrup and preservatives… we wondered….
How long would it take for them to decompose?
 |
| The cupcake looks fresh as it did on day ONE! |
They are hard as rock, and without any sign of decay whatsoever. *
I think it’s safe to say that the donut and cupcake are highly preserved. Imagine what your body goes through to process this “food”. Gross. I’m not saying I won’t eat another donut in my life (maple bars call to me)… but seriously…..WTF?
**We put an end to the experiment by seeing what would happen if we put the aged treats in the microwave. I kid you not, the donut caught on fire and the cupcake morphed into a powder.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
An Independent Woman
Last night I had a fabulous dinner with a friend. Over decadent goat cheese stuffed figs and glasses of wine, we discussed a topic I have been thinking about a lot lately: identifying as an independent woman.
You see, I have been raised this way. I have been encouraged to challenge societal norms, and raised with the mindset that I can do whatever I want with my life. This can be clearly defined as the Generation Y mentality. If you want to go to college, go to college. If you want more education, go get it. Despite my generational stereotype, many women my age face the pressures of finding Mr. Perfect, getting married, and having babies. While I want all those things (I have 1 out of three), I am on my own timeline and have other dreams to fulfill. What’s the rush? I want to travel. I want to become established in my career. I want to be financially secure. I feel all these things will make me a better person, partner, and mother.
Here’s the issue at hand:
Why are independent women viewed as scary and/or intimidating?
Friday, January 11, 2013
How it's Made: Hot Dogs
Sorry to post about food again, but this I just had to share.
Again, to answer the question of "Why don't you eat meat?".... here is another reason why:
How can this be called "food"? And... my favorite part is when the narrator says, "Corn syrup adds a dash of sweetness." I love the reframing of trying to make hot dogs sound innocently healthy. Ha. WTF?
Again, to answer the question of "Why don't you eat meat?".... here is another reason why:
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Spider Homicide
In less than a week, I have found two very large, and vicious looking spiders in my home. Normally, I have compassion for tiny creatures. Sometimes I will even go out of my way to save them. For example, I will stop to pick up a slug and save him from being smooshed into concrete. Or , I will try to catch a moth and release him into freedom outside.
My kind-hearted efforts do not apply when it comes to spiders.
I will spot you, dear spiders. Once I have spotted you, I will first cry out into a fit of terror. Then, after finding composure I will plan my attack.
What weapon should I use? Are you small enough for a paper towel? No. Too big. If I hit you with something, will you scurry away to never be found, thus forcing me to move out? Would a shoe kill you? What about a bat?
I did not hesitate when I murdered these two eight legged monsters. One by baseball bat, the other squished by boot.
No remorse, I tell ya. Even if Charlotte herself appeared in my tub...I'd kill her.
My kind-hearted efforts do not apply when it comes to spiders.
I will spot you, dear spiders. Once I have spotted you, I will first cry out into a fit of terror. Then, after finding composure I will plan my attack.
What weapon should I use? Are you small enough for a paper towel? No. Too big. If I hit you with something, will you scurry away to never be found, thus forcing me to move out? Would a shoe kill you? What about a bat?
I did not hesitate when I murdered these two eight legged monsters. One by baseball bat, the other squished by boot.
No remorse, I tell ya. Even if Charlotte herself appeared in my tub...I'd kill her.
Monday, April 9, 2012
WTF?: Girl's Night Sickness
We finally get a girl's night planned and what happens? A terrible, icky disgusting sickness.
With plans to go out on the town, we were all dressed up but couldn't go anywhere….
Such a bummer.
So- we got in our PJ's and put on Sex and The City.
What kept us alive:
With plans to go out on the town, we were all dressed up but couldn't go anywhere….
Such a bummer.
So- we got in our PJ's and put on Sex and The City.
What kept us alive:
Special thanks to Noah who pretty much waited on us hand and foot. You're amazing.
So girls….. we have to plan another get-together. SOON.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
{Social Work: Made Up Words}
You know, it's really hard to write a paper when the majority of the words I write have that annoying squiggly line underneath it. I am not misspelling words, no no. I am using words that have been made up by the Social Work profession, and Microsoft Word has yet to catch up!
For example:
For example:
Cissexual
Allyship
Heteronormative or Heteronormativity
Antiassimilationist
Effemimania
…..To name a few.
So, can any profession just MAKE UP words??!! WTF?
Okay… back to the paper.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Body Image & Being a Woman
Adriana Lima, Victoria's Secret model, describes what it takes to attain the body you see at VS Fashion Show. The routine includes two strenuous work-outs with a personal trainer every day, a diet specifically created for her by a nutritionalist with little or no fats and carbs, consuming only egg-powder-based protein shakes for 9 days before a show, and dehydrating her body (no liquids) the day before going on stage. Her literal full-time job is keeping up her appearance... and yet the VS Fashion Show "allegedly defines what the world perceives as the hottest-sexiest-most beautiful female form."
Fuck Off.
In her honor, I'll eat a bowl of ice cream while watching the VS show. And I will love by body more with every bite.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Put down the corn dog and pick up your degree!
Besides the obvious phallic connotations - I mean, c'mon…why couldn't she have been working at a pizza place? Some commercials just make me say… WTF?
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Fries, Coleslaw or Rice Pilaf?
Even if you are a waiter for a short time, you are doomed to have waiter nightmares for the rest of your life. You go into work and your uniform is missing or you can't figure out how the tables are numbered or you've suddenly developed a limp. Your weird aunt, who was always hard to please, pops up at one table or someone who made fun of you in high school or an ax murderer is demanding their appetizer. You miss your wedding because no on will cover for you.
I was a waiter or as I like to call them, servers for almost 6 years at a restaurant in Oregon. They are "Nationally Famous" for their clam chowder. Little do the tourists know, the chowder is actually potato paste with a few cans of clams thrown in. The cooks just add a gallon of whole milk and boil the pot. They even sprinkle a bit of sand in there to make is taste a bit more authentic.
At the time, the place was run by a despot named Steve, who, when he was through screaming at us at staff meetings for our various and sundry infractions - bleach stained aprons and snide attitudes and tardiness and wastefulness and our overall failure as viable beings - he would make the startling pronouncement that the greatest achievement of our lives was that we were working for him. He usually said this to me while staring at my boobs. WTF? Without a doubt, Steve was the most loathsome person I had ever met, and if somehow someone could manage to avoid his wrath and last more than two weeks on the waitstaff, that was, indeed an accomplishment.
Everyday I put on my waiter costume and my efficient-waiter smile and I went there and tried to make people happy enough to tip me 20 percent. And between taking orders, delivering food, and avoiding Steve, who nightly could be found hitting on tourist women, I could be found out back, watching the bay and dreaming of a better way to make money. Eventually, I would have to go back in. I would apply more chapstick and prepare to kiss more ass for tips.
Here is how to be a good server, which means getting large tips: always give an opinion when asked. The fisherman's salad is better than the caesar. The cod is so-so but the halibut is delicious. People love when you tell them not to have something. It inspires trust. Shake your head conspiratorially when talking about the shrimp skewers. That's it. The rest is common sense. Be nice but not intrusive, be relaxed but let them know you are in control. Get them stinking drunk.
Although I absolutely hated running around, pretending I gave a shit about how a stranger's day was, telling them what food not to eat, and pretty much bending over while getting treated like crap, but still hoping to get paid… I look back at it and think, "I never have to do it again."
These memories alone give me motivation to get through school. Now, back to writing my paper.
I was a waiter or as I like to call them, servers for almost 6 years at a restaurant in Oregon. They are "Nationally Famous" for their clam chowder. Little do the tourists know, the chowder is actually potato paste with a few cans of clams thrown in. The cooks just add a gallon of whole milk and boil the pot. They even sprinkle a bit of sand in there to make is taste a bit more authentic.
At the time, the place was run by a despot named Steve, who, when he was through screaming at us at staff meetings for our various and sundry infractions - bleach stained aprons and snide attitudes and tardiness and wastefulness and our overall failure as viable beings - he would make the startling pronouncement that the greatest achievement of our lives was that we were working for him. He usually said this to me while staring at my boobs. WTF? Without a doubt, Steve was the most loathsome person I had ever met, and if somehow someone could manage to avoid his wrath and last more than two weeks on the waitstaff, that was, indeed an accomplishment.
Everyday I put on my waiter costume and my efficient-waiter smile and I went there and tried to make people happy enough to tip me 20 percent. And between taking orders, delivering food, and avoiding Steve, who nightly could be found hitting on tourist women, I could be found out back, watching the bay and dreaming of a better way to make money. Eventually, I would have to go back in. I would apply more chapstick and prepare to kiss more ass for tips.
Here is how to be a good server, which means getting large tips: always give an opinion when asked. The fisherman's salad is better than the caesar. The cod is so-so but the halibut is delicious. People love when you tell them not to have something. It inspires trust. Shake your head conspiratorially when talking about the shrimp skewers. That's it. The rest is common sense. Be nice but not intrusive, be relaxed but let them know you are in control. Get them stinking drunk.
Although I absolutely hated running around, pretending I gave a shit about how a stranger's day was, telling them what food not to eat, and pretty much bending over while getting treated like crap, but still hoping to get paid… I look back at it and think, "I never have to do it again."
These memories alone give me motivation to get through school. Now, back to writing my paper.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Love, Laughs and WTF?
I just want to travel now.
Love that this guy was able to rhyme something with quinoa.
WTF?
So glad Wednesday is over.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Actual Craigslist Ad
Yoga mat for sale. Used once. - $1 (Bellevue)
Date: 2011-09-13, 10:32PM PDT
Reply to: sale-cbz7z-2597736393@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
Yoga mat for sale. Used once at lunch hour class in December 2009. Usage timeline as follows:
11:45a
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.
11:55a
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date.
11:57a
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her.
11:58a
The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning.
11:59a
Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don't exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us.
12:00p
Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. My bride is notably unfazed.
12:02p
Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class.
12:10p
It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other's body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don't worry, I'll mention them later.)
12:26p
It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond.
12:33p
It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I'm in this for the long haul. My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, "for better or worse" is what we committed to so we press on.
12:40p
The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him.
12:44p
I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.
12:52p
It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see.
12:55p
This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok?
1:01p
140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don't get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat!
1:09p
150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed.
I lose consciousness.
1:15p
I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can't really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out.
1:17p
I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it's voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It's like juice and cracker time, ok?
1:20p
It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something?
1:30p
Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and 'cool down' in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up.
1:34p
My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level - probably by 15 degrees. So let's conservatively say it's 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door.
1:37p
The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day's turmoil and mental scaring.
1:47p
Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein -- effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir.
3:47p
Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the "shakes" consume my body.
4:29p
Note to self - check car for missing wet yoga towel in am.
11:45a
Register for hot yoga class. Infinite wisdom tells me to commit to 5 class package and purchase a yoga mat. I pay $89.74. Money well spent, I smugly confirm to myself.
11:55a
Open door to yoga room. A gush of hot dry air rushes through and past me. It smells of breath, sweat and hot. Take spot on floor in back of room next to cute blonde. We will date.
11:57a
I feel the need to be as near to naked as possible. This is a problem because of the hot blonde to my left and our pending courtship. She will not be pleased to learn that I need to lose 30 pounds before I propose to her.
11:58a
The shirt and sweats have to come off. I throw caution to the wind and decide to rely on my wit and conditioning to overcome any weight issues my fiancée may take issue with. This will take a lot of wit and conditioning.
11:59a
Begin small talk with my bride to be. She pretends to ignore me but I know how she can be. I allow her to concentrate and stare straight ahead and continue to pretend that I don't exist. As we finish sharing our special moment, I am suddenly aware of a sweat moustache that has formed below my nose. This must be from the all the whispering between us.
12:00p
Instructor enters the room and ascends her special podium at the front of the room. She is a slight, agitated Chinese woman. She introduces me to the class and everyone turns around to greet me just as I decide to aggressively adjust my penis and testes packed in my Under Armor. My bride is notably unfazed.
12:02p
Since I do have experience with Hot Yoga (4 sessions just 5 short years ago) I fully consider that I may be so outstanding and skilled that my instructor may call me out and ask me to guide the class. My wife will look on with a sparkle in her eye. We will make love after class.
12:10p
It is now up to 95 degrees in the room. We have been practicing deep breathing exercises for the last 8 minutes. This would not be a problem if we were all breathing actual, you know, oxygen. Instead, we are breathing each other's body odor, expelled carbon dioxide and other unmentionables. (Don't worry, I'll mention them later.)
12:26p
It is now 100 degrees and I take notice of the humidity, which is hovering at about 90%. I feel the familiar adorning stare of my bride and decide to look back at her. She appears to be nauseated. I then realize that I forgot to brush my teeth prior to attending this class. We bond.
12:33p
It is now 110 degrees and 95% humidity. I am now balancing on one leg with the other leg crossed over the other. My arms are intertwined and I am squatting. The last time I was in this position was 44 years ago in the womb, but I'm in this for the long haul. My wife looks slightly weathered dripping sweat and her eyeliner is streaming down her face. Well, "for better or worse" is what we committed to so we press on.
12:40p
The overweight Hispanic man two spots over has sweat running down his legs. At least I think its sweat. He is holding every position and has not had a sip of water since we walked in. He is making me look bad and I hate him.
12:44p
I consider that if anyone in this room farted that we would all certainly perish.
12:52p
It is now 140 degrees and 100% humidity. I am covered from head to toe in sweat. There is not a square millimeter on my body that is not slippery and sweaty. I am so slimy that I feel like a sea lion or a maybe sea eel. Not even a bear trap could hold me. The sweat is stinging my eyeballs and I can no longer see.
12:55p
This room stinks of asparagus, cloves, tuna and tacos. There is no food in the room. I realize that this is an amalgamation of the body odors of 30 people in a 140 degree room for the last 55 minutes. Seriously, enough with the asparagus, ok?
1:01p
140 degrees and 130% humidity. Look, bitch, I need my space here so don't get all pissy with me if I accidentally sprayed you with sweat as I flipped over. Seriously, is that where this relationship is going? Get over yourself. We need counseling and she needs to be medicated. Stat!
1:09p
150 degrees and cloudy. And hot. I can no longer move my limbs on my own. I have given up on attempting any of the commands this Chinese chick is yelling out at us. I will lay sedentary until the aid unit arrives. I will buy this building and then have it destroyed.
I lose consciousness.
1:15p
I have a headache and my wife is being a selfish bitch. I can't really breathe. All I can think about is holding a cup worth of hot sand in my mouth. I cannot remember what an ice cube is and cannot remember what snow looks like. I consider that my only escape might be a crab walk across 15 bodies and then out of the room. I am paralyzed, and may never walk again so the whole crab walk thing is pretty much out.
1:17p
I cannot move at all and cannot reach my water. Is breathing voluntary or involuntary? If it's voluntary, I am screwed. I stopped participating in the class 20 minutes ago. Hey, lady! I paid for this frickin class, ok?! You work for me! Stop yelling at everyone and just tell us a story or something. It's like juice and cracker time, ok?
1:20p
It is now 165 degrees and moisture is dripping from the ceiling. The towel that I am laying on is no longer providing any wicking or drying properties. It is actually placing additional sweat on me as I touch it. My towel reeks. I cannot identify the smell but no way can it be from me. Did someone spray some stank on my towel or something?
1:30p
Torture session is over. I wish hateful things upon the instructor. She graciously allows us to stay and 'cool down' in the room. It is 175 degrees. Who cools down in 175 degrees? A Komodo Dragon? My wife has left the room. Probably to throw up.
1:34p
My opportunity to escape has arrived. I roll over to my stomach and press up to my knees. It is warmer as I rise up from ground level - probably by 15 degrees. So let's conservatively say it's 190. I muster my final energy and slowly rise. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other. Towards the door. Towards the door.
1:37p
The temperature in the lobby is 72 degrees. Both nipples stiffen to diamond strength and my penis begins to retract into my abdomen from the 100 degree temp swing. I can once again breathe though so I am pleased. I spot my future ex wife in the lobby. We had such a good thing going but I know that no measure of counseling will be able to unravel the day's turmoil and mental scaring.
1:47p
Arrive at Emerald City Smoothie and proceed to order a 32 oz beverage. 402 calories, 0 fat and 14 grams of protein -- effectively negating any caloric burn or benefit from the last 90 minutes. I finish it in 3 minutes and spend the next 2 hours writing this memoir.
3:47p
Create Craigslist ad while burning final 2 grams of protein from Smoothie and before the "shakes" consume my body.
4:29p
Note to self - check car for missing wet yoga towel in am.
Hilarious, right? I want to meet this guy!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
I, Anonymous
Dear Girls who sat behind me on the bus ride home,
I usually use my 20-minute bus ride home to sit quietly and decompress from my day. You three girls, however, decided to ruin that.
Not only were you loud and obnoxious, but also the content of your conversation was inappropriate and at points offensive. I did not need to know the details of your dramas at work, nor did I need to know about the “retard” of a boss you have. You, the girl in the too small of a top, I don’t think your boyfriend would be happy if he knew you told all the passengers of bus 402 that “his penis isn’t that impressive.” I also didn’t ask to know how you were sent off to a “cultish” boarding school. You certainly didn’t need to continue on to say you got pregnant intentionally so they would send you home, when all they did was keep you there, make you have the baby, and have you put it up for adoption. I hope you saw the weird stares people were giving you, because you’re weird. Oh, and your use of the word “like” was far too excessive.
I am not sure if the three of you just aren’t aware of the etiquette of public transportation, or if you just don’t care. If anything, you need to gain some class.
Now, I am not saying you are terrible girls. I think we could be friends. I too have one foot that is bigger than the other, and like to keep up with the Kardashians. All I ask is that you either talk quietly among yourselves, or you wait until you get to a bar to have your conversations. Oh, and please, stop using the word ‘retard’.
Best,
Me
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Puppy Love
I love our pup, Theo. He is absolutely adorable. He is smart, loving and for the most part he is obedient.
He can sit, stay,lay down,wait,come,roll-over,shake, and I even taught him how to high-five.
With all that said, sometimes he gets a little restless and feels the need to destroy something.A few months ago, he decided it was time for me to stop learning about multicultural counseling.
Today, while I was at work, the Boy sent me a photo of the latest damage….
Awesome.
We came to the conclusion that he was obviously trying to tell us something: We need a new couch. Ha. No, he obviously has some energy he needs to release. As good pet owners, we obeyed and took him to the dog park. We hoped he wouldn't misinterpret this as a reward…
Next time, I hope he'll just ask.
He can sit, stay,lay down,wait,come,roll-over,shake, and I even taught him how to high-five.
With all that said, sometimes he gets a little restless and feels the need to destroy something.A few months ago, he decided it was time for me to stop learning about multicultural counseling.
 |
| I wanted Spring Quarter to be over too. |
Today, while I was at work, the Boy sent me a photo of the latest damage….
 |
| Yes, this is our couch cushion completely torn apart. WTF? |
We came to the conclusion that he was obviously trying to tell us something: We need a new couch. Ha. No, he obviously has some energy he needs to release. As good pet owners, we obeyed and took him to the dog park. We hoped he wouldn't misinterpret this as a reward…
 |
| Car Ride |
 |
| Obediently "waiting" for the command to run off and play |
 |
| Puget Sound - not a bad place for a dog park |
 |
| He always chooses the bigger dogs to befriend |
 |
| Play.Play.Play. |
 |
| Puppy Love. |
Next time, I hope he'll just ask.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Super Suck Sunday
SUPER
- Sandal suntans
- The feeling of something warm coming out of the dryer. I washed my favorite comforter, and wrapped it around me as it came out of the dryer. So cozy!!
- Finding a new little restaurant. A few friends of mine discovered a little wine place - it was incredible. Delicious wines, cheeses, baguettes, olives and great conversation. Fabulous way to end a day of class.
- Speaking of comforters…. I stepped into Athropologie today and fell in LOVE with THIS BEDDING SET . If anyone is wanting to get me something…at ANY time… consider this! Isn't it absolutely stunning?
SUCKS
- My cRaZy ass agenda: Work Mondays-Thursdays, Practicum Fridays, School Saturday, and …. RELAX on Sundays. Most of the time I'm on Robot mode…
- Eating a pound of Rainer Cherries in one sitting. Why does that suck you ask? The cherries were gone.
- Vacuums
- Sitting in your car at a red light… minding your own damn business… rocking out to a little Bob Dylan… and all of a sudden… through your sunroof….a birds aims perfectly enough… ands shits on your arm. double-u tee eff.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
WTF?: Dream Look Instant Eye lift
Seriously? This goes right along with Pajama Jeans and the BumpIt.
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